Cold-Blooded, page 9
“Kurt Koenig will kill you,” Hoard said.
Dunn’s anger flared. “Stop saying that! I hate it when you say that. You’ve no idea how it irritates me. Makes me want to kill somebody.”
Wisely, Hoard decided to keep his mouth shut.
A few moments later Danvers stepped into the office with a pretty blond girl. She looked around and smiled uncertainly, but the presence of her boss in the room seemed to reassure her. Her reassurance quickly evaporated, though, when Danvers forced her arms behind her back and shoved her into a straight-backed chair. Dunn quickly gagged the girl with a bright red bandanna and then stripped her chemise from her shoulders and breasts.
“Very pretty,” Dunn said. “What a pity to ruin such a pair.” The girl’s blue eyes were wide open, terrified. The man placed the blade of his knife at the top of the girl’s chest and said, “Take your pick, Mr. Hoard. Left or right?”
“Leave the girl alone, you sorry piece of trash,” Hoard said.
He attempted to rise from his chair but Danvers shook his head and said, “I wouldn’t do that. Mr. Dunn might decide to go for the throat.”
Dunn smiled and said, “No preference? Then I’ll choose for you.” He stood back and rubbed his chin and he studied the girl’s breasts. “The right one, I think. It’s so pretty.”
Dunn placed the blade at the top of the girl’s breast and drew blood. Her struggles against Danvers’s hold were futile and she whimpered deep in her throat.
“Wait!” Hoard yelled. “Thirty percent! I agree to thirty percent.”
“I thought you might,” Dunn said. His voice was silken, like the purr of a contented cat, but his eyes were demonic. “Mind you, Mr. Hoard, I would very much have enjoyed the cutting.” He looked at Danvers and said, “Take off the gag and let her go.” And then to the girl, “If you tell anyone about this . . . ah . . . demonstration, I’ll come back here looking for you.” He held up the knife and let gaslight ripple on its blade. “And I’ll bring my little friend with me.”
“I won’t tell anybody,” the girl said. “I swear I won’t.”
“There speaks a wise young lady,” Dunn said. “But just remember, my dear, I’m a creature of the dark and I bring death with me.”
The girl fled in horror and Dunn said to Hoard, “Now, let’s take a look at the books, shall we?”
* * *
“A fair night’s work, I’d say. Three hundred dollars on a slow evening is not to be sneezed at,” Jasper Dunn said. “And we’re only getting started.”
Cole Danvers nodded. “When we’re making thousands a night we’ll look back on our three hundred and laugh.”
“There’s no doubt about that,” Dunn said.
“Would you really have cut the whore?” Danvers said.
“Of course. She came very close. As I told Hoard, I was rather looking forward to it.” Dunn’s eyes shifted. “You, Mr. Talon, please step over here.”
The stifling warehouse basement at Houston and 11th was crowded with men and smelled of sweat, gun oil and leather. Most of the cons were now well dressed and armed and had lost Huntsville’s lean and hungry look. Talon had shed his coat and wore only his shirt and pants. He had a Colt holstered butt-forward at his waist.
“Obviously Herb Coffin didn’t kill you, Mr. Talon,” Dunn said.
“He tried,” Talon said.
“Ah, then I won’t trouble you for the details, but I assume Mr. Coffin is no longer with us.”
“No, he’s not,” Talon said.
Dunn said, “I hated that man. Sooner or later I would have killed him myself.” He studied Talon’s face for a moment, then said, “Where have you been since then?”
“Around,” Talon said.
“You look like you’re prospering,” Dunn said.
Talon forced a smile. “Prospering on the money I took from Coffin’s pocket. But it’s running out and that’s why I’m here. I heard you’re looking for men.”
“I’m looking for gunmen, Mr. Talon. Do you qualify?”
“I can skin iron with the best of them,” Talon said.
“Hmm . . . I wonder.” Dunn snapped his fingers and smiled. “I know. Here’s a jolly lark.” He waved a hand at a couple of men standing close to the table where he sat. “Bring the black and stand him against the wall over yonder.”
A few moments later a badly beaten black man was dragged from a corner and shoved against the far basement wall. Unlike the others he still wore rags and he was unarmed. Like the girl at the cathouse, he was terrified.
“This creature’s name is Paris Berry and he undercut my authority,” Dunn said. “Without my permission he rolled a drunk on Main Street, it doesn’t matter where, and then put the knife to him. He spent the money on whiskey and then had the audacity to return here and boast of it. Naturally his was an act of defiance and a danger to all of us and I sentenced him to death.”
This drew a roar of approval from two score throats, and Jasper Dunn smiled and waved a dismissive hand as though he did not deserve such an accolade. “Silas Topper, Mr. Topper, are you there?” he said.
“Right here, boss.” This from a small, lean man with wicked eyes who packed one of Bruno Cavanni’s engraved Colts in an ornate gun belt and holster. Ford Talon recalled seeing the little man around Huntsville but knew nothing of his background. Jasper Dunn set him straight.
“Mr. Talon, or should I say Major Talon, may I present Mr. Silas Topper, probably the fastest man with a gun in the great state of Texas.”
Talon nodded to the man but made no attempt to shake hands.
But Topper didn’t seem to notice. “There ain’t no probably, boss,” he said. “I am the fastest gun in Texas and everywhere else.”
“Huzzah!” Dunn said, clapping his hands. “Your skills didn’t deteriorate while you were in Huntsville, did they?”
“Sure didn’t,” Topper said. “I’m faster now nor I was ten years ago.”
“Excellent,” Dunn said. “Now gather around, everybody and listen up. Major Talon—yes, he was a major in the war—wishes to join our merry band of thieves. But ere I grant him that favor he must prove that he is worthy. I told him that I need a man of courage—which he undoubtedly is—but who is good with a gun. Now he must demonstrate his shooting skill that we may judge.”
This brought a cheer, and Jasper Dunn got to his feet. “Follow me, gentlemen,” he said. When he stood opposite the black man, he said, “Now one of you men step off fifteen paces between us and the condemned.”
When that was accomplished Dunn said, “Here’s how it will work. On my command, Mr. Topper and Mr. Talon will each draw and fire one shot at Paris Berry. Of course, Mr. Topper, a shootist of renown—”
“Seventeen kills,” Topper said, grinning.
“Yes, yes, quite,” Dunn said. “As I was about to say, Mr. Talon’s quickness on the draw and shoot will be measured against Mr. Topper’s skill and accuracy. If Mr. Talon comes close, he will be invited to become one of us.”
“Suppose he’s as slow as molasses and misses?” Topper said.
“Why, then you will kill him, Mr. Topper,” Dunn said.
Talon looked at Berry. Tears ran down the man’s cheeks but he stood where he was against the wall and made no plea for mercy. He knew his death was inevitable and he’d be appealing to merciless men.
This would be cold-blooded murder but Berry was already a dead man. Talon knew that he had to go through with the killing or his usefulness as a spy would be over before it even began. He took comfort in the fact that the black was a killer and had knifed a man after taking his wallet. But it didn’t help much.
“Are we ready, gentlemen?” Dunn said. “You will wait on my command to fire . . . Fire!”
Two shots sounded as one.
* * *
Jasper Dunn ripped the dead man’s shirt apart and studied his wounds. After a moment he whooped then yelled, “Two bullets to the chest not two inches apart. Crackerjack!”
“Let me see that, boss,” Silas Topper said. He peered closely at the wounds and said, “Yeah. I can only get two fingers between them. But I was faster.”
“Yes, but not by much,” Dunn said. He rose to his feet. “Take a look-see at your handiwork, Mr. Talon. Superb shooting!”
Ford Talon forced himself to look at the dead man. He decided to play the tough guy. “I hurried the shot, pulled a little to the left.”
“You done good,” Topper said. “Almost as good as me.”
Now Talon changed roles, going from tough to humble. “I’ll never be as good as you, Silas.” Topper grinned and slapped him on the back and Talon knew he’d been accepted into Dunn’s den of thieves and killers.
“Let’s celebrate,” Dunn said. “Cole, break out the whiskey.”
Everybody cheered but Talon remained silent. He felt sick to his stomach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
As soon as Jess Casey saw Kurt Koenig’s face he knew he bore bad news. The sight of the stern professor James Carnes, his assistant and what looked like a lawyer walking behind him confirmed that impression.
Koenig tossed a telegraph wire on the desk. “Read it and weep,” he said. “It came in this morning.”
“No need to read it, Sheriff,” Carnes said. “It’s an order from Senator Jennings to release your prisoners immediately.”
Jess ignored the professor and picked up the wire. It confirmed what the man had said. “Those men are charged with the attempted rape of a fourteen-year-old girl,” Jess said. “I’m keeping them locked up until they stand trial.”
“It appears that attempted rape is not the case,” the lawyerly-looking man said. He laid a card on the desk. “My name is Jethro Tull, attorney-at-law.”
Jess stared at the lawyer and made no answer, and Tull said, “We have two witnesses who will swear that they heard the girl try to sell sexual favors to the three men you have in custody. When you arrived, Sheriff, and laid about you with a vicious club, the girl became frightened and changed her story.”
“Who are these men you claim as witnesses?” Jess said.
Professor Carnes answered that question. “Like the men in your cell, they are former Huntsville prisoners who are trying to make an honest living and tread a straight path.”
“Who are they?” Jess said, his anger growing.
“At this stage their names should not matter, but I will give them to you anyway,” Tull said. “They are Mr. Deke O’Conner and Mr. Jasper Dunn. At the moment both gentlemen perform odd jobs but are actively seeking gainful, full-time employment. Mr. Dunn is seriously considering becoming a member of the clergy and is already studying to that end.”
“Sheriff Casey, did anyone beside yourself witness the alleged assault on the girl?” Tull said.
Jess felt the walls closing in. “No.”
“Mr. O’Connor and Mr. Dunn will swear that the female—one Joselita Juarez, a Mexican of no fixed abode—was laughing and giggling as she led the men into McKenna’s Close and Mr. Dunn will say with one hundred percent certainty that he heard the girl repeatedly mention the sum of two dollars.”
Carnes said, “Sheriff, your harassment of the Huntsville prisoners must stop instanter. Senator Jennings is most anxious that this experiment succeed, as am I and attorney-at-law Tull.”
Tull said, “You will release the accused into the professor’s custody now, and I will arrange for a federal judge to conduct a trial, probably in Houston. And may I ask you to curb your victimization of men who are desperately trying to turn their lives around? Professor Carnes says they know that they’ve been given a unique opportunity and are grasping it with both hands.”
Jess looked at Koenig and said, “Do you believe this rubbish?”
“No, I don’t. But we haven’t got a choice, Jess,” he said. “An order from a senator bears weight and he has the support of the governor.”
“You mean I have to hand them over?”
“That’s exactly what the marshal means,” Tull said. His voice took on an authoritarian tone. “Sheriff Jess Casey, you are required and commanded to release the following prisoners into the custody of Professor James Carnes: William Looper, aged twenty-six.”
“You mean Loco Looper,” Jess said. “Thirty years for rape and murder.”
“Adam Gavin, aged thirty.”
“They call him Gorilla Gavin,” Jess said. “Thirty years for rape and murder.”
Tull was irritated, but he pressed on. “James Turner, aged twenty-eight.”
“Otherwise known as Dark Alley Jim,” Jess said. “Twenty-three years for the knife murder of a parson.”
Tull gritted his teeth in rage. “Do your duty, Sheriff. Release those men immediately.”
Jess rose to his feet. “You know you gentlemen are signing your own death warrants, don’t you?” he said.
“That sir, is an impertinence,” Carnes said. “Now obey Mr. Tull’s order and do your duty.”
* * *
“If I was you I’d watch my back, Jess,” Kurt Koenig said. “Those three boys didn’t look like the kind to forgive and forget.”
“Can you believe what just happened?” Jess said.
“Of course I can believe it. Senator Jennings released dangerous criminals into an established community, if you want to call the Acre that. Don’t you think the government is interested and so are prison authorities up and down the country? If this works, other states will follow Texas’s lead and release long-term convicts that have become a burden on their nickel-squeezing budgets.”
“And since Jennings was the first to do it, he’ll become a big man in Washington,” Jess said.
“He has an election coming up,” Koenig said. “He’s got to make this harebrained scheme of his work, or at least be seen to work.”
“And Carnes and Tull?” Jess said.
“The way I figure is that Carnes is a do-gooder who wants to be famous and Jethro Tull, well, he’s a lawyer and he’ll work for anyone who’ll pay him. I suspect the money is coming through Carnes from Jennings and there’s probably a pile of it.”
“I feel like I’m butting my head against a brick wall,” Jess said.
“Get used to it,” Koenig said. “This is Hell’s Half Acre, normal law doesn’t apply here. And don’t expect any help from our esteemed Mayor Stout. Harry isn’t about to butt heads with a United States senator.”
* * *
“I will not butt heads with a United States senator,” Mayor Harry Stout said. “Sheriff Casey, I’m surprised you’d even ask. Besides, Professor Carnes said the convicts are settling down nicely and fast becoming model citizens of our fair city.”
“Does that include the three who tried to rape Joselita Juarez?” Jess said.
Stout sat back in his chair and waved a ringed hand. “Boys will be boys, Sheriff. No harm was done.”
Jess said, “Why don’t you ask Joselita Juarez that?”
Stout sighed. “Sheriff Casey, I have never doubted your dedication to duty but by times you can be a most tiresome man. Did you read the newspaper this morning?”
“No, not yet,” Jess said.
“Look.” He held up the paper and the headlines read:
Mex Jezebel Tempts Three to Their Doom
WHITE MEN FACE THE NOOSE
“Is there no justice in this town?”
The GAZETTEER Demands the Release of the McKenna’s Close Three.
“Hardly an unbiased account,” Jess said. “And the would-be rapists have already been released.”
“White men languishing in a jail over the accusations of a Mexican whore makes better copy,” Stout said. “And the Gazetteer’s publisher needs a new printing press. It’s just a matter of business.”
“Joselita Juarez is a child,” Jess said. “She is by no stretch of the imagination a whore.”
Stout raised his hands and wailed, “Sheriff, what do you want me to do?”
“For starters, give me the authorization to hire six deputies at seventy dollars a month and I’ll clamp down on both convicts and the opium trade.”
Stout was appalled. “I will do no such thing. Fort Worth can’t afford six deputies and I will not butt heads with a senator, I told you that already. And in addition I’ve fallen in line with the rest of the country and the sale of opium is now perfectly legal in this town. I just yesterday signed the new law into effect. I thought you knew that.”
“I didn’t until now. The new law was at the urging of Kurt Koenig and Luke Short, no doubt.”
“At the urging of two prominent, taxpaying citizens of this town. I can say no more than that.” He smiled. “Dare I tell the fair sex that they can no longer purchase laudanum for their female problems and to soothe fussy children? I think not.”
“I need those deputies, Harry.”
“Very well, I will consider the matter and then take it to committee.”
“When will that be?”
“Soon, Sheriff Casey. No later than Christmas or shortly afterward.”
“But this is only July,” Jess said.
“I know it is and that reminds me that I have work to do. My, how time flies,” Stout said. He smiled. “You’re doing a crackerjack job, Sheriff Casey. Keep up the good work.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I think the place is shaping up nicely,” Kurt Koenig said. “What do you think, Luke?”
“Looks good to me,” Luke said. “Maybe we could add an extra tier of bunks. Three high should be manageable for the attendants.”
“I’ll mention that to the builder tomorrow,” Koenig said. The unfinished interior of the Green Buddha was lit by only one oil lamp and Koenig pointed through the shifting gloom to a curtained area at the rear.
“That’s what I call the ‘top hat and tails’ section, reserved for the high rollers. No bunks, just cushions, and I plan to staff it with the prettiest Chinese girls I can find,” he said.
Luke Short nodded. “And a couple of guns.”
“I’ve taken care of that. Cole Danvers, one of my Panther City Boys, will be a full-time guard, him and a friend of his, a draw fighter out of Tennessee by the name of Silas Topper.”
Dunn’s anger flared. “Stop saying that! I hate it when you say that. You’ve no idea how it irritates me. Makes me want to kill somebody.”
Wisely, Hoard decided to keep his mouth shut.
A few moments later Danvers stepped into the office with a pretty blond girl. She looked around and smiled uncertainly, but the presence of her boss in the room seemed to reassure her. Her reassurance quickly evaporated, though, when Danvers forced her arms behind her back and shoved her into a straight-backed chair. Dunn quickly gagged the girl with a bright red bandanna and then stripped her chemise from her shoulders and breasts.
“Very pretty,” Dunn said. “What a pity to ruin such a pair.” The girl’s blue eyes were wide open, terrified. The man placed the blade of his knife at the top of the girl’s chest and said, “Take your pick, Mr. Hoard. Left or right?”
“Leave the girl alone, you sorry piece of trash,” Hoard said.
He attempted to rise from his chair but Danvers shook his head and said, “I wouldn’t do that. Mr. Dunn might decide to go for the throat.”
Dunn smiled and said, “No preference? Then I’ll choose for you.” He stood back and rubbed his chin and he studied the girl’s breasts. “The right one, I think. It’s so pretty.”
Dunn placed the blade at the top of the girl’s breast and drew blood. Her struggles against Danvers’s hold were futile and she whimpered deep in her throat.
“Wait!” Hoard yelled. “Thirty percent! I agree to thirty percent.”
“I thought you might,” Dunn said. His voice was silken, like the purr of a contented cat, but his eyes were demonic. “Mind you, Mr. Hoard, I would very much have enjoyed the cutting.” He looked at Danvers and said, “Take off the gag and let her go.” And then to the girl, “If you tell anyone about this . . . ah . . . demonstration, I’ll come back here looking for you.” He held up the knife and let gaslight ripple on its blade. “And I’ll bring my little friend with me.”
“I won’t tell anybody,” the girl said. “I swear I won’t.”
“There speaks a wise young lady,” Dunn said. “But just remember, my dear, I’m a creature of the dark and I bring death with me.”
The girl fled in horror and Dunn said to Hoard, “Now, let’s take a look at the books, shall we?”
* * *
“A fair night’s work, I’d say. Three hundred dollars on a slow evening is not to be sneezed at,” Jasper Dunn said. “And we’re only getting started.”
Cole Danvers nodded. “When we’re making thousands a night we’ll look back on our three hundred and laugh.”
“There’s no doubt about that,” Dunn said.
“Would you really have cut the whore?” Danvers said.
“Of course. She came very close. As I told Hoard, I was rather looking forward to it.” Dunn’s eyes shifted. “You, Mr. Talon, please step over here.”
The stifling warehouse basement at Houston and 11th was crowded with men and smelled of sweat, gun oil and leather. Most of the cons were now well dressed and armed and had lost Huntsville’s lean and hungry look. Talon had shed his coat and wore only his shirt and pants. He had a Colt holstered butt-forward at his waist.
“Obviously Herb Coffin didn’t kill you, Mr. Talon,” Dunn said.
“He tried,” Talon said.
“Ah, then I won’t trouble you for the details, but I assume Mr. Coffin is no longer with us.”
“No, he’s not,” Talon said.
Dunn said, “I hated that man. Sooner or later I would have killed him myself.” He studied Talon’s face for a moment, then said, “Where have you been since then?”
“Around,” Talon said.
“You look like you’re prospering,” Dunn said.
Talon forced a smile. “Prospering on the money I took from Coffin’s pocket. But it’s running out and that’s why I’m here. I heard you’re looking for men.”
“I’m looking for gunmen, Mr. Talon. Do you qualify?”
“I can skin iron with the best of them,” Talon said.
“Hmm . . . I wonder.” Dunn snapped his fingers and smiled. “I know. Here’s a jolly lark.” He waved a hand at a couple of men standing close to the table where he sat. “Bring the black and stand him against the wall over yonder.”
A few moments later a badly beaten black man was dragged from a corner and shoved against the far basement wall. Unlike the others he still wore rags and he was unarmed. Like the girl at the cathouse, he was terrified.
“This creature’s name is Paris Berry and he undercut my authority,” Dunn said. “Without my permission he rolled a drunk on Main Street, it doesn’t matter where, and then put the knife to him. He spent the money on whiskey and then had the audacity to return here and boast of it. Naturally his was an act of defiance and a danger to all of us and I sentenced him to death.”
This drew a roar of approval from two score throats, and Jasper Dunn smiled and waved a dismissive hand as though he did not deserve such an accolade. “Silas Topper, Mr. Topper, are you there?” he said.
“Right here, boss.” This from a small, lean man with wicked eyes who packed one of Bruno Cavanni’s engraved Colts in an ornate gun belt and holster. Ford Talon recalled seeing the little man around Huntsville but knew nothing of his background. Jasper Dunn set him straight.
“Mr. Talon, or should I say Major Talon, may I present Mr. Silas Topper, probably the fastest man with a gun in the great state of Texas.”
Talon nodded to the man but made no attempt to shake hands.
But Topper didn’t seem to notice. “There ain’t no probably, boss,” he said. “I am the fastest gun in Texas and everywhere else.”
“Huzzah!” Dunn said, clapping his hands. “Your skills didn’t deteriorate while you were in Huntsville, did they?”
“Sure didn’t,” Topper said. “I’m faster now nor I was ten years ago.”
“Excellent,” Dunn said. “Now gather around, everybody and listen up. Major Talon—yes, he was a major in the war—wishes to join our merry band of thieves. But ere I grant him that favor he must prove that he is worthy. I told him that I need a man of courage—which he undoubtedly is—but who is good with a gun. Now he must demonstrate his shooting skill that we may judge.”
This brought a cheer, and Jasper Dunn got to his feet. “Follow me, gentlemen,” he said. When he stood opposite the black man, he said, “Now one of you men step off fifteen paces between us and the condemned.”
When that was accomplished Dunn said, “Here’s how it will work. On my command, Mr. Topper and Mr. Talon will each draw and fire one shot at Paris Berry. Of course, Mr. Topper, a shootist of renown—”
“Seventeen kills,” Topper said, grinning.
“Yes, yes, quite,” Dunn said. “As I was about to say, Mr. Talon’s quickness on the draw and shoot will be measured against Mr. Topper’s skill and accuracy. If Mr. Talon comes close, he will be invited to become one of us.”
“Suppose he’s as slow as molasses and misses?” Topper said.
“Why, then you will kill him, Mr. Topper,” Dunn said.
Talon looked at Berry. Tears ran down the man’s cheeks but he stood where he was against the wall and made no plea for mercy. He knew his death was inevitable and he’d be appealing to merciless men.
This would be cold-blooded murder but Berry was already a dead man. Talon knew that he had to go through with the killing or his usefulness as a spy would be over before it even began. He took comfort in the fact that the black was a killer and had knifed a man after taking his wallet. But it didn’t help much.
“Are we ready, gentlemen?” Dunn said. “You will wait on my command to fire . . . Fire!”
Two shots sounded as one.
* * *
Jasper Dunn ripped the dead man’s shirt apart and studied his wounds. After a moment he whooped then yelled, “Two bullets to the chest not two inches apart. Crackerjack!”
“Let me see that, boss,” Silas Topper said. He peered closely at the wounds and said, “Yeah. I can only get two fingers between them. But I was faster.”
“Yes, but not by much,” Dunn said. He rose to his feet. “Take a look-see at your handiwork, Mr. Talon. Superb shooting!”
Ford Talon forced himself to look at the dead man. He decided to play the tough guy. “I hurried the shot, pulled a little to the left.”
“You done good,” Topper said. “Almost as good as me.”
Now Talon changed roles, going from tough to humble. “I’ll never be as good as you, Silas.” Topper grinned and slapped him on the back and Talon knew he’d been accepted into Dunn’s den of thieves and killers.
“Let’s celebrate,” Dunn said. “Cole, break out the whiskey.”
Everybody cheered but Talon remained silent. He felt sick to his stomach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
As soon as Jess Casey saw Kurt Koenig’s face he knew he bore bad news. The sight of the stern professor James Carnes, his assistant and what looked like a lawyer walking behind him confirmed that impression.
Koenig tossed a telegraph wire on the desk. “Read it and weep,” he said. “It came in this morning.”
“No need to read it, Sheriff,” Carnes said. “It’s an order from Senator Jennings to release your prisoners immediately.”
Jess ignored the professor and picked up the wire. It confirmed what the man had said. “Those men are charged with the attempted rape of a fourteen-year-old girl,” Jess said. “I’m keeping them locked up until they stand trial.”
“It appears that attempted rape is not the case,” the lawyerly-looking man said. He laid a card on the desk. “My name is Jethro Tull, attorney-at-law.”
Jess stared at the lawyer and made no answer, and Tull said, “We have two witnesses who will swear that they heard the girl try to sell sexual favors to the three men you have in custody. When you arrived, Sheriff, and laid about you with a vicious club, the girl became frightened and changed her story.”
“Who are these men you claim as witnesses?” Jess said.
Professor Carnes answered that question. “Like the men in your cell, they are former Huntsville prisoners who are trying to make an honest living and tread a straight path.”
“Who are they?” Jess said, his anger growing.
“At this stage their names should not matter, but I will give them to you anyway,” Tull said. “They are Mr. Deke O’Conner and Mr. Jasper Dunn. At the moment both gentlemen perform odd jobs but are actively seeking gainful, full-time employment. Mr. Dunn is seriously considering becoming a member of the clergy and is already studying to that end.”
“Sheriff Casey, did anyone beside yourself witness the alleged assault on the girl?” Tull said.
Jess felt the walls closing in. “No.”
“Mr. O’Connor and Mr. Dunn will swear that the female—one Joselita Juarez, a Mexican of no fixed abode—was laughing and giggling as she led the men into McKenna’s Close and Mr. Dunn will say with one hundred percent certainty that he heard the girl repeatedly mention the sum of two dollars.”
Carnes said, “Sheriff, your harassment of the Huntsville prisoners must stop instanter. Senator Jennings is most anxious that this experiment succeed, as am I and attorney-at-law Tull.”
Tull said, “You will release the accused into the professor’s custody now, and I will arrange for a federal judge to conduct a trial, probably in Houston. And may I ask you to curb your victimization of men who are desperately trying to turn their lives around? Professor Carnes says they know that they’ve been given a unique opportunity and are grasping it with both hands.”
Jess looked at Koenig and said, “Do you believe this rubbish?”
“No, I don’t. But we haven’t got a choice, Jess,” he said. “An order from a senator bears weight and he has the support of the governor.”
“You mean I have to hand them over?”
“That’s exactly what the marshal means,” Tull said. His voice took on an authoritarian tone. “Sheriff Jess Casey, you are required and commanded to release the following prisoners into the custody of Professor James Carnes: William Looper, aged twenty-six.”
“You mean Loco Looper,” Jess said. “Thirty years for rape and murder.”
“Adam Gavin, aged thirty.”
“They call him Gorilla Gavin,” Jess said. “Thirty years for rape and murder.”
Tull was irritated, but he pressed on. “James Turner, aged twenty-eight.”
“Otherwise known as Dark Alley Jim,” Jess said. “Twenty-three years for the knife murder of a parson.”
Tull gritted his teeth in rage. “Do your duty, Sheriff. Release those men immediately.”
Jess rose to his feet. “You know you gentlemen are signing your own death warrants, don’t you?” he said.
“That sir, is an impertinence,” Carnes said. “Now obey Mr. Tull’s order and do your duty.”
* * *
“If I was you I’d watch my back, Jess,” Kurt Koenig said. “Those three boys didn’t look like the kind to forgive and forget.”
“Can you believe what just happened?” Jess said.
“Of course I can believe it. Senator Jennings released dangerous criminals into an established community, if you want to call the Acre that. Don’t you think the government is interested and so are prison authorities up and down the country? If this works, other states will follow Texas’s lead and release long-term convicts that have become a burden on their nickel-squeezing budgets.”
“And since Jennings was the first to do it, he’ll become a big man in Washington,” Jess said.
“He has an election coming up,” Koenig said. “He’s got to make this harebrained scheme of his work, or at least be seen to work.”
“And Carnes and Tull?” Jess said.
“The way I figure is that Carnes is a do-gooder who wants to be famous and Jethro Tull, well, he’s a lawyer and he’ll work for anyone who’ll pay him. I suspect the money is coming through Carnes from Jennings and there’s probably a pile of it.”
“I feel like I’m butting my head against a brick wall,” Jess said.
“Get used to it,” Koenig said. “This is Hell’s Half Acre, normal law doesn’t apply here. And don’t expect any help from our esteemed Mayor Stout. Harry isn’t about to butt heads with a United States senator.”
* * *
“I will not butt heads with a United States senator,” Mayor Harry Stout said. “Sheriff Casey, I’m surprised you’d even ask. Besides, Professor Carnes said the convicts are settling down nicely and fast becoming model citizens of our fair city.”
“Does that include the three who tried to rape Joselita Juarez?” Jess said.
Stout sat back in his chair and waved a ringed hand. “Boys will be boys, Sheriff. No harm was done.”
Jess said, “Why don’t you ask Joselita Juarez that?”
Stout sighed. “Sheriff Casey, I have never doubted your dedication to duty but by times you can be a most tiresome man. Did you read the newspaper this morning?”
“No, not yet,” Jess said.
“Look.” He held up the paper and the headlines read:
Mex Jezebel Tempts Three to Their Doom
WHITE MEN FACE THE NOOSE
“Is there no justice in this town?”
The GAZETTEER Demands the Release of the McKenna’s Close Three.
“Hardly an unbiased account,” Jess said. “And the would-be rapists have already been released.”
“White men languishing in a jail over the accusations of a Mexican whore makes better copy,” Stout said. “And the Gazetteer’s publisher needs a new printing press. It’s just a matter of business.”
“Joselita Juarez is a child,” Jess said. “She is by no stretch of the imagination a whore.”
Stout raised his hands and wailed, “Sheriff, what do you want me to do?”
“For starters, give me the authorization to hire six deputies at seventy dollars a month and I’ll clamp down on both convicts and the opium trade.”
Stout was appalled. “I will do no such thing. Fort Worth can’t afford six deputies and I will not butt heads with a senator, I told you that already. And in addition I’ve fallen in line with the rest of the country and the sale of opium is now perfectly legal in this town. I just yesterday signed the new law into effect. I thought you knew that.”
“I didn’t until now. The new law was at the urging of Kurt Koenig and Luke Short, no doubt.”
“At the urging of two prominent, taxpaying citizens of this town. I can say no more than that.” He smiled. “Dare I tell the fair sex that they can no longer purchase laudanum for their female problems and to soothe fussy children? I think not.”
“I need those deputies, Harry.”
“Very well, I will consider the matter and then take it to committee.”
“When will that be?”
“Soon, Sheriff Casey. No later than Christmas or shortly afterward.”
“But this is only July,” Jess said.
“I know it is and that reminds me that I have work to do. My, how time flies,” Stout said. He smiled. “You’re doing a crackerjack job, Sheriff Casey. Keep up the good work.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“I think the place is shaping up nicely,” Kurt Koenig said. “What do you think, Luke?”
“Looks good to me,” Luke said. “Maybe we could add an extra tier of bunks. Three high should be manageable for the attendants.”
“I’ll mention that to the builder tomorrow,” Koenig said. The unfinished interior of the Green Buddha was lit by only one oil lamp and Koenig pointed through the shifting gloom to a curtained area at the rear.
“That’s what I call the ‘top hat and tails’ section, reserved for the high rollers. No bunks, just cushions, and I plan to staff it with the prettiest Chinese girls I can find,” he said.
Luke Short nodded. “And a couple of guns.”
“I’ve taken care of that. Cole Danvers, one of my Panther City Boys, will be a full-time guard, him and a friend of his, a draw fighter out of Tennessee by the name of Silas Topper.”
