Read Mobley's Law, A Mobley Meadows Novel Online
Authors: Gerald Lane Summers
“Well, Mr.
Smith
, perhaps I should just start showing you what we have.” Mary Sue turned back towards a rack full of lacy looking lingerie. “If you have time, you can look at everything.”
“Oh, I have time.” Edson recognized the subtle hungry look in Mary Sue’s eyes. He’d been so embarrassed, he’d not quickly grasped the woman might have something on her mind. He looked her up and down. She was a head shorter than he, tall for a woman. Her light yellowish hair was nicely taken up in a bun, as befit a woman working in a ladies’ boutique. The shapely, though slightly plump body reminded him of a painting he’d once seen over a bar in Dallas. The painting showed a smiling woman lying nude on a large table surrounded by grapes and other fruit, which were being fed to her by a pair of little children with wings on their backs.
“Where should we begin?”
“Over here, I think.” Mary Sue reached into the rack of lingerie. “These items are nightdresses, but we will need to know the lady’s size. Do you know it?”
Edson shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Uh … no, I don’t.”
Mary Sue placed her hands on her hips. “Well, how tall is she?”
“Uhmm,—let’s see, I’d say she was about to your chin in height, but a little bit—smaller about the waist.”
Even as he said it, Edson knew he’d made a mistake. One simply does not imply a woman is less than petite. He was surprised at the woman’s response.
Mary Sue chuckled. “A little wisp of a thing, then? Your friend will have to be careful not to hurt the poor child on their wedding night.”
Mary Sue moved closer and casually rubbed up against Edson’s side. She walked her fingers slowly up his arm. “Some of these itty-bitty girls just can’t handle a real man.”
Turning back toward the rack, she picked out a lacy lavender article and handed it to him. “Here, this should fit. It’s just her size, but maybe you’d like for me to model it for you first?”
Edson’s mouth fell open. “Wha—what?”
“I’d be happy to do it for you. It’ll only take a minute. Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll be right out.”
Mary Sue casually locked the front door, closed the curtains, and then turned to go into a room behind the counter.
“I don’t really—” Edson stammered in a half-hearted attempt to slow things down. But it was too late. She was gone, so he sat down on one of the frilly little white ironwork chairs provided for the comfort of customers and twiddled his thumbs.
After a few minutes, Mary Sue swished slowly back into the room. She wore the nightdress, a full size too small for her, and nothing else. The flimsy, transparent thing barely covered her breasts. She bounced jauntily as she approached.
“There. What do think? Is the color right?”
Her voice was husky, dripping with lust. “I think it might be a little long.” She lifted the hem, inch by inch, to expose her thighs. Edson looked up, then back down to her thighs. He cleared his throat. “Actually, I think the length is about right.”
Mary Sue laughed, grabbed Edson by the arm and led him into the back room, up the stairway to the second floor.
* * *
Dixie Lee Potts entered the boutique with her own key. She looked around to see if there were any other customers about. Seeing none, she latched the door and proceeded into the back room. She was confused. There had always been someone here when she came in. Now the place looked empty.
Walking up the back stairs to Mary Sue’s room, Dixie paused to look around. The large mirror on the hallway wall reflected her image, which caught her attention as it always did. Although her glossy black hair was perfectly coifed, she nevertheless tickled a hair or two in place. She admired herself, batted her light brown eyes in mock seduction. Her lips were unusually full and accented perfectly straight, white teeth. Today, her lip rouge was a soft pink, designed to match the pink of her dress. Her cheeks were lightly powdered, but not overly so. Dixie Lee Potts needed little make up. She was one of the most naturally beautiful women in Austin.
Turning from the mirror, she again scanned the hallway. Assuming Mary Sue had stepped out for a few minutes; she casually opened the door and walked in.
Mary Sue was at that moment unable to talk. Spasms of pleasure coursed through her body so powerfully she’d thought for a moment even her legs would cramp. She kept her position, riding Edson and looking up at the ceiling as the spasms diminished.
Edson turned his head, his eyes meeting the gaze of the beautiful woman at the door, but he was unable to respond. The woman’s face became flushed—with passion or anger he could not tell—but she did not leave. She stared, her breasts heaving.
Finally, breathless and exhausted, the two lovers disengaged themselves and turned to face the door. The woman still stood, saying nothing, but Edson could see now, the look was of desire.
Mary Sue saw it too. She slowly swung her legs to the floor. Dixie did not move as Mary Sue walked to her, took her hand, and led her back to the bed.
The rest of the day was incredible. Edson had never experienced anything like it in his life. Dixie Lee Potts proved herself to be every bit as passionate as Mary Sue. The two of them did things to him he had never before experienced. Most incredible of all, as she’d walked out the door, Dixie handed Edson a hundred dollar bill. Edson was dumbfounded. He held the bill in his hand, turned and looked back at Mary Sue as she lay on the bed.
Mary Sue smiled. “Keep it. You’ve earned every penny. Don’t try to figure Dixie Lee Potts. She does crazy things sometimes. I think it makes her feel good. Anyway, its good spendable money. If you want to earn more, you just keep on coming back on Fridays. We’re always here, but you’d better not tell. If Ferdie found out, you’d be in big trouble.”
Edson’s head snapped around. “Ferdie? Who’s Ferdie?”
“Ferdie Lance is who. He’s probably the most dangerous man in these parts, not counting Kinch West.”
Edson’s heart began to pound.
Mary Sue smiled at him, shifted to lean on one elbow. “Not to worry, handsome. Ferdie won’t find out. He comes here every now and then, but he won’t be back for several days. I never know when he’ll come, but it’s always at night, never in the daytime. And, by the way, you haven’t told me your real name. It certainly isn’t Smith.”
Edson balked. He’d learned over the years it was not a good idea to give his real name when fooling around with a strange woman. Now that he knew Mary Sue was connected to Ferdie Lance, he had an even more compelling reason to keep his identity secret.
“I’m not sure I should. If you don’t know it, you can’t rat me out to old Ferdie now, can you?”
Mary Sue’s face suggested mild disappointment, pique maybe. “Well, I guess not. But you should at least tell me your real first name, because I want to see more of you, and I’ve got to be able to identify you in my mind.”
“If you insist, but first I want you to tell me more about this Ferdie fellow. If I’m in any danger, I want to know what I’m up against.” Edson sat down on the bed next to Mary Sue and began to nibble her left ear. Her hand began to explore him again.
“Come on, beautiful lady, tell me a secret. Tell me a secret and I will guarantee you a fine time, anytime, all the time.”
He maneuvered her back onto the pillows, nibbled his way to her navel, kissed his way down to her thighs. He knew what to do to make her crazy. He’d just been taught by Dixie Lee Potts, who had insisted on everything being done exactly right.
The story Mary Sue told was incredible. She seemed compelled, as if anxious to rid herself of terrible knowledge. She confirmed everything they knew of Ferdie Lance—and more. He worked for Governor Davis. The plot to kill Mobley was still in effect. Ferdie would come here when he needed sleep or a place to hole up.
Edson pulled up his pants, straightened himself and turned to leave. He turned, looked at Mary Sue sprawled on the bed. “The name’s Red,—Red
Jones
.”
Jack took his time getting dressed. He admired the look of the man staring back at him from the dresser mirror. For the first time in his life he looked like a gentleman, a man of means. He wore a starched high collared white shirt with mother of pearl buttons to the neck, a crisply pressed, perfectly tailored black frock coat suit with pants hemmed straight to the break of his polished, knee high, soft leather boots.
He picked up his new .45 Colt’s cartridge pistol and shoved it into his belt, admiring the heft and balance of the weapon as he did so. The barrel was not as long as his old cap and ball, but whatever disadvantage that posed in accuracy, if any, was easily made up by the ease with which the new pistol could be reloaded. He adjusted it to fit loosely for comfort, and then slowly turned around, looking back over his shoulder.
Juan Antonio Lopez Smythe, you’ve come a long way from the deserts of Mexico.
Turning back in the opposite direction and lifting his chin slightly, he admired the way the coat camouflaged the pistol.
Are you a handsome devil or what?
Jack smiled, held his lips back and ran his finger over his teeth. He was about to adjust his new broad brimmed black felt hat when the hotel room door crashed open. He whipped the pistol out and dropped into a crouch, prepared to fire. Edson stood at the door, wide eyed.
“Dang you, Edson. Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Jack’s heart pounded in his ears. He’d almost shot a good friend by accident. He walked over to the bed and sat down hard, fumbling the pistol in his hands as if not knowing what to do with it.
Edson stared back and slowly let out the breath he’d been holding. “Jeez, Jack. I’m sorry, I won’t do that again, that’s for sure—but have I got a story to tell. You’re just not going to believe it—no way, no how.”
“Well then, don’t tell me,” Jack said sarcastically as he shoved the pistol back into his belt.
“But it has to do with Ferdie Lance.”
Jack’s head came up. “What? You saw Ferdie Lance? Where?”
“No, I didn’t see him. But I know where he sleeps when he’s in town. It’s over to that woman’s clothing store across from the gunsmith shop. You know, across the street from where we bought these new pistols? He gambles and recruits men at the Iron Front Saloon.”
“Wait a minute, Edson. Why don’t you start from the beginning and tell me everything.”
Edson hesitated, contemplated a way to avoid telling the whole truth, but decided against it. Jack would see through him. Edson had never been a good liar, but he was not interested in having his morals judged, even by Jack.
“Well, I’ll tell you everything, but if you start pokin’ at me about what I’ve been doing, I’ll just have to whup on you.”
Jack stared at Edson. Whatever was bothering him, he was dead serious about it. Jack nodded. He would refrain from judgment, at least until after he’d heard the whole story. “All right, then. No poking.”
Edson began slowly, hesitating. Then gushed the remainder of the tale, including the part about Dixie Lee Potts, how she was the wife of the governor’s chief of staff and how Mary Sue Doss had informed him of Ferdie’s involvement in the train attack.
Jack was stunned. Not about Ferdie and his evil doings, but of the actions of the two women. He tried to visualize two women working on Edson and themselves at the same time, but could not. “I had no idea women were capable of such things.”
Edson smiled. “Well, it shouldn’t be surprising. Women have the same needs as men, least ways far as I can tell. They just keep them under control a whole lot better. Security of family and respect in society normally mean more to them than foolin’ around, but if those concerns are removed, you can expect them to behave with just as much passion as a man. Not as often, maybe, and not in the same way. Then, there are those women like Dixie Potts who love danger and will take more chances than others. I seem to run into that type with regularity.
Anyway, I have no intention of letting their cat out of the bag. A lot of people would be hurt, so you’d better promise me you won’t tell.”
“You have my word. But what were you doing fooling around with this
Doss
woman in the first place? You were supposed to be buying a present for Lydia.”
“Now, dang it all, Jack
. You said you wouldn’t poke on me. I’m going to hold you to it. Besides, it weren’t my fault. The woman just jumped me. What was I supposed to do, walk away with her holdin’ on to my pump handle? Dang, Jack. It’s a curse with me. Everywhere I go, women beat a path to my door. I figure as long as I’m still single, I’ve got to help ‘em out. It ain’t right to walk off and leave ‘em like that.”
Jack began to choke. His laughter had taken his breath away and brought on a bout of hiccups. He was now pounding his fists into the bed pillow in an effort to stem the spasms wracking his body. “Ha, ha, ha - hic, hic –“
Edson began to stiffen, and then pout. But laughter is contagious and he finally began to crack a smile. “I guess it is funny … a little.”
The more frantic Jack became, the more Edson came to appreciate how incredible the entire episode seemed. He felt a smile coming over his own face, but was not about to give Jack any more satisfaction.
“Jack, you can lie around here all day laughin’ and hickin’ till you chuck up your breakfast, but I’m going see if Mobley’s awake. He needs to know what we’ve found out. Then I’m going out to check at the Iron Front Saloon. Ferdie comes in there now and again, according to Mary Sue, and I could use a drink anyway. It’s a rough place, they say. I won’t hold it against you if you decide it’s too dangerous a place for a poor little old Mexican bandit.”
Jack was holding on to his stomach, still cramping from laughter, but it was clear he would follow along. He nodded and got up off the bed. He occasionally snickered and snorted a hic as Edson led the way out of the bedroom and into the living room where Mobley’s bed had been placed.
Gertrude Sweetgrass sat on the side of the bed spooning hot soup into Mobley’s mouth. He was awake, but his eyes still looked hollow and weak. Gertrude turned and glared. Edson immediately stiffened, felt guilty, as if they had interrupted something of great importance.
“
Be quiet
,” she said sharply. Her little eyebrows were pinched together, blue green eyes serious. “Mister Mobley needs to eat and get his rest. My mom will be mad if you upset him.”
Mobley smiled weakly. “Better do as she says, boys.
She’s got a tall temper, just like Lydia’s. But come on in. We’ll be finished here soon, and then you can fill me in.”
Edson glanced at Jack, who shrugged and moved toward the small sofa. Edson sat astraddle a dining table chair and watched as Gertrude continued her ministrations. He’d seen many five year old girls in his life, but none with the quick, natural intelligence, wit and maturity he’d seen in Gertrude Sweetgrass. The way she’d taken over to help her mother with Mobley’s care had impressed everyone, but Edson sensed there was more to the child than any of them knew. He believed her to be possessed of an ancient spirit, a traveler who refused to move on to the next level, preferring to remain in human form from one life to the next. He knew not all spirits had this ability, for most had no choice but to move on. A few special ones, chosen by the Great Sun, could return in perpetuity, choosing their own form and destiny. One day, when the time was right, he would consult with Bowl on the matter. At some point, she must be made aware of her power, learn how to use and control it. But only one person would be able to do it, a person special to her.
Gertrude spooned the last drop of soup for Mobley, and then gently wiped his mouth with a napkin. “There, all better?”
Mobley smiled again, reached out and gave Gertrude a hug. “Thank you, young lady. I don’t know what I would do without you. When I finally get well, I’m going to get you a special present.”
Gertrude’s eyes lit up. “A present?”
“Yes. But you may have to wait a long time. There’s no telling how long it might be before your mother decides to let me up.”
“Oh, it won’t be too long. Momma told me you’re doing real well, and should be up and about in a week or two at most.”
“She did? Well, that’s good news. When she wakes up, you tell her how great that makes me feel. Now, I need to talk to Jack and Edson in private. Why don’t you go get that new book your mother gave you, the one about
Cinderella
. I’ll read it to you after they go out. I’m afraid if I sleep much more, I won’t ever be able to get out of this bed.”
“Oh, that’ll be fun.” Gertrude picked up the serving tray, balanced it precariously in one hand and skipped out of the room. Edson held his breath, thinking she would drop the whole thing on the floor, but she didn’t.
* * *
They made quite a sight in their new outfits. Jack walked straight-backed, trying to match the swagger his father had used when in public trying to impress the masses. People nodded greetings as they walked to catch a ride on Austin’s new horse drawn trolley.
Austin had become a substantial city, a bustling capitol filled with legislators and businessmen of all types, but Edson was struck most by the number of black soldiers stationed at various locations around the town. He’d heard Governor Davis had recruited freed slaves into his state police and was allowed the use of a company of the 10th U.S. Cavalry, an all black unit, for guard duty in and about the city, but the sight of them strolling calmly about in this thoroughly southern city was very strange.
“Looks like the war ain’t over in Austin. I haven’t seen so many soldiers since the Battle of Chickamauga.”
“Chickamauga? What battle was that?” Jack knew little or nothing about the battles of the Civil War. At the time, he’d been living from hand to mouth in the Sonoran desert and could have cared less.
Lowering his head sadly, Edson wished he had not mentioned it. “It was in Tennessee—1863. The Rebs were trying to retake Chattanooga, right down near the border with Alabama in East Tennessee. They fought real hard and kicked the Union troops off the field. If it hadn’t been for General Thomas holding the Union left, it would have been a total disaster. Even so, it was a skedaddle for the Union.
They call Thomas the
Rock of Chickamauga
now, and he deserves the respect. Captain Marsten and I fought in that battle and several others in Tennessee before we were moved further west. We were lucky that day, lucky not to have been killed. The death toll was horrible. Over eleven thousand Union troops died. They say even more Rebs were killed … as many as seventeen thousand. You could smell death for over fifty miles if the wind was right.”
Jack said nothing. He could see the memory was painful for Edson, but even as he watched he could tell the man was shaking it off and trying to think about something else. By the time they reached the trolley station and climbed aboard the garishly appointed one horse carriage, Edson was in good spirit. Jack sat near the rear side bench between two black soldiers. Edson nodded greetings to the two men and sat down opposite them.
Jack began to relax. He thought to ask the teamster how far it was to the Iron Front Saloon, but held his tongue as he saw Edson’s eyes widen. In a blur, Edson jumped up and drew his pistol.
BOOM!
Edson fired between Jack and the soldier on his left. The soldier fell to the floor, screaming. Jack ducked, eyes stinging from the pungent smoke. His ears rang and thrummed from the sudden explosion and the pounding of his heart. He turned. A skinny man in a black suit stood on the sidewalk pointing a pistol. All Jack could see of it was the huge hole of the muzzle. It was aimed directly between his eyes.
The second soldier yelled, turned and tried to bring his long rifle to bear. Other passengers dove for the floorboards. Jack shifted to his side and came up with his own pistol. Edson continued to fire.
The skinny man was obviously startled by Edson’s reaction. Edson’s first bullet nicked the man’s left bicep and impacted the brick wall behind him. The man’s own shot missed Jack and smacked into the shoulder of the second soldier, causing him to drop his rifle and curse. Pandemonium broke out.
The horse screamed, jerked forward in a wild-eyed panic, dragging the heavy carriage forward. Passengers spilled into a pile at the rear. By the time Jack could untangle himself and help Edson up, the skinny assassin was nowhere to be seen.
“Should we go after him?” Edson yelled.
“Why not? You’re supposed to be able to track a cockroach through a wall. Show me your stuff.”
“Well, I ain’t never tried to track a man in a city with paved streets and sidewalks, but what the heck, there’s always a first time. I don’t think all these alleys are paved, so he’s bound to leave a mark or two. Let’s go look.”
As they exited the trolley, climbing over and around several passengers as they did so, Jack issued a command to the conductor. “I am United States Deputy Marshal Jack Anthony Lopes. Get these people to a doctor as fast as you can and report this attempted murder to the City Marshal. We’re going after the miserable back shooting swine that did this.”