Strong Suspicions (Emmett Strong Westerns Book 2) Page 2

  The middle-aged woman on the stairs scowled. “But—”

  “I said throw her out!” Taft barked. “And then back away from the doors. We’ll give these folks the chance to prove they didn’t come for blood.” He glared at Emmett from across the room.

  Miss Lindsey half shoved, half walked Geneve down the stairs.

  “How ’bout a dress for her?” Emmett said.

  Without replying, the madam tromped Geneve to the exit and gave her a rough heave that sent her stumbling through the batwing doors and out onto the boardwalk.

  “Now, we’ve done our part,” Taft said. “Time for you sons-a-bitches to clear out peaceful-like.”

  “Come on down, Sikes,” Emmett called. “Geneve, you wait right there. We’re coming out.”

  “You boys, holster those smoke wagons,” Taft said. “A sign of good intentions.”

  The lookout fellow sneered and gave a tug to pull his shotgun from Emmett’s grasp.

  Emmett shoved the shotgun fully upright again and gave the lookout a glower that said, Believe me, you don’t want to point this thing at me. Aloud he said, “My Colt goes back into the holster once my compañeros and I are safely out the door.”

  The madam held her ground not far from the exit.

  Sikes hobbled down the stairway, gave Emmett a glance, and continued on out to the boardwalk.

  “I’ll borrow this for just a minute.” Emmett yanked on the lookout’s shotgun.

  “Like hell.” The lookout tightened his grip.

  Maintaining his own hold on the twelve-gauge, Emmett slipped the barrel of his revolver to the lookout man’s trigger finger. “You ever wanna shoot again, you’ll let go of the scattergun.”

  The lookout scowled.

  “Let go. I’ll leave it at the front door for you.” Emmett waited a beat, then nodded.

  As the lookout’s grip eased, Emmett relieved him of the weapon. On cue, with six-guns still leveled at the Wild Hog’s owner and staff, Emmett and Juanito backed themselves to the doorway.

  Taft pointed. “I see either of you two in my saloon again—any of the four of you, for that matter—I shoot.” He glanced at his lookout and bartender. “Mackey, Willie, you do the same, you hear? Don’t even have to ask me.”

  “Don’t worry,” Emmett said. “Wouldn’t wanna dirty my boots again, not with the sawdust from this saloon’s floor.”

  “See you around, Strong,” the lookout man said with a smirk that Emmett didn’t like.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Geneve huddled up close to the outside wall of the saloon, crying. Shivering, too, despite the afternoon heat.

  Sikes pulled off his vest and hung it around her shoulders. “Tossing a woman outside in her underclothes…What kind of people?”

  “Let’s get her over to the hotel quick as we can,” Emmett said, taking note of the prying looks of passersby.

  One mother, clearly incensed, guided her children to the far side of the street.

  The three men tried to shield Geneve from leering eyes as they hurried for the hotel. She clung tight to Sikes, who walked with his arm around her shoulders. Emmett walked in front of her, and Juanito followed close behind.

  “I suppose we’ve worn out our welcome in El Paso,” Sikes said.

  “We’ve done what we came here for,” Emmett said. “No reason to stay.”

  “You need to stay at least an hour or so,” Juanito said.

  Emmett glanced back. “Why’s that? Besides for getting Miss Geneve some clothes.”

  “How could you forget what I told you when I came to get you? I found a justice of the peace, hermano. Says he’ll marry you and Li. Legal, too.”

  “He knows she’s Chinese?”

  “Sí. Says he’s wedded Mexicans and whites, Indians and whites, even a black man and his Indian woman.”

  “And how’s he get around the antimiscegen—What was it again? Oh, yeah—the antimiscegenation laws?”

  “He changes the Indian name or the Spanish name to an Anglo name on the marriage certificate.”

  They were approaching the front steps of the Hotel Rio Grande.

  “They might not let me in the hotel, Mr. Sikes,” Geneve said, sniffling.

  “Oh, they will.” Sikes patted her shoulder.

  She stopped in the street. “I don’t wanna cause you gents any more trouble.”

  Emmett faced her and spoke softly. “You didn’t cause us any trouble at all, Miss Geneve. We’re going to take you upstairs. You’ll meet the lovely Miss Li Xu, and then Li and I will run out and buy you the prettiest dress you’ve ever owned. No arguing, now. OK?”

  She nodded and put her fingertips to her mouth. Her blue eyes were rimmed with tears.

  Thirty minutes later, Li and Emmett walked side by side toward a dress shop they’d passed earlier in the day. Juanito had gone to find the justice of the peace, and Sikes and Geneve had stayed behind in the Englishman’s hotel room.

  “Geneve seems nice,” Li said, looking up at Emmett with eyes that still melted his insides. “And what you and Juanito and Sikes did just proves to me again—I chose the right man.”

  Emmett smiled. “It was nothing any other man worth his salt wouldn’t have done.”

  She tilted her head. “I beg to disagree.”

  As they approached the dress shop, Emmett took Li’s arm and gently pulled her to a stop. “Li, what do you think about this justice of the peace Juanito’s gone to fetch—the way he goes about hitching couples that the law says shouldn’t be hitched?”

  She pursed her lips and shook her head. “As long as we’re legally married, Emmett…”

  With his finger he stroked the flawless skin of her cheek. “But do you find it demeaning, having to come up with an English name instead of using your real name—your Chinese name?”

  Again Li shook her head. “Not if it will somehow protect us from problems with the law or with our neighbors—the kinds of problems Judge Wilcox seemed to think we’re destined for. Anyway, in our home, I’ll still be Li Xu—Li Strong, that is.” Her smile was radiant.

  “So you don’t think it’s dishonest?”

  “Do you?”

  He glanced up and down the quiet street. “I don’t know.”

  She took his hands in hers and squeezed. “What did my father call me? When he was being affectionate?”

  Emmett pictured Yong Xu, smiling affably, back in the restaurant he owned in Virginia City’s Chinatown. “He called you Li-Li.”

  “Yes,” she said, “so on the wedding certificate the only thing I’ll change is the spelling. Li-Li will become L-i-l-l-y. And Xu will become S-h-u-e. Li-Li Xu, Lilly Shue—sounds a little different, but same person, same name.”

  Emmett grinned. “Mind if I just call you Li—like always?”

  She squeezed his hands again. “Let’s go get that dress for Geneve so we can hurry back and get married.”

  His stomach turned a flip. He was going to get married—to this wonderful, lively, strong, talented, and singularly captivating girl. To the stunningly beautiful Li Xu.

  “If you’ll just sign right here, Mr. Sikes…” The justice of the peace—a brittle stick of a man with a wiry, graying beard—tapped the marriage certificate on a line with the word witness printed below it.

  Sikes bent over the dressing table and scrawled his name on the document, smiling as he did so. “To think, you once tried to talk your bride out of this, Strong.” He chuckled.

  “Why don’t you just shut it for a while, Sikes?” Emmett frowned.

  Li gave Emmett a playful punch.

  “And you, Miss Geneve, I believe it was…” The justice turned to Geneve and pointed to the other line designated witness. “If you’ll be so kind.”

  Looking like a woman reborn, gussied up in a brand-new, store-bought blue satin dress, she gave Emme
tt and Li a tearful smile and then signed just below Sikes’s name.

  Emmett pulled Li close. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

  Throughout the ceremony—if that’s what one could call the humble legal formality—Juanito had stood at the window, peering through the lace curtains, keeping watch over the street below.

  Mighty glad he’s doing that, Emmett thought. I know he’s as anxious as I am to leave El Paso behind us for a while. For just an instant, he wondered whether his marriage to a woman other than Juanito’s sister would change his relationship with his brother-in-law and closest friend. No, he decided, Juanito has been pushing me to marry Li since the night we first laid eyes on her.

  Sikes cleared his throat, pulling Emmett out of his musings.

  The British Army veteran turned to Geneve, his round face slightly flushed. He ran a palm over his close-cropped hair and said to her, “I don’t know whether you’ve ever considered this at all…” He cleared his throat again and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “But, Geneve, as long as we’ve got a justice of the peace right here on hand, I’ve been wondering whether you might do me the honor…that is, whether you might allow me to be your husband.”

  Geneve’s eyes widened. She was one of those girls whose fair coloration betrayed her every time she blushed. “Why, Mr. Sikes—”

  “Granville,” he said. “Granville Sikes is my full name.”

  She shook her head and touched the base of her neck. “I don’t know what to say, Granville. This is all too sudden.”

  “Please don’t turn me down. I’ll make you happy. I’ll care for you.”

  Juanito turned from the window for a moment and wiggled his eyebrows. “Or he’ll die trying.” He grinned.

  Geneve looked down. “It’s just that—twice, as a matter of fact—other men have asked me to marry them…and then left me waiting for them to return. But they never did return. I simply—”

  “The difference is,” Sikes said, “I’m right here, with a justice of the peace right here as well. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to wait for me to return.”

  Geneve looked from person to person around the small hotel room. Her hand quivered ever so slightly. “You’ve all been so kind to me. I can never repay you.” Her gaze returned to Sikes. “But, Granville, I simply can’t do this—at least not right now.”

  Sikes nodded. His gaze dropped. “I apologize. How thoughtless of me to bring up such an important matter so shortly after your ordeal with Franklin Taft.”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “I’m so very sorry.”

  Emmett swallowed hard, a bit embarrassed for Sikes.

  The Englishman chuckled. “What was I thinking? I don’t even know your family name—”

  “It’s Lambert,” the disheveled justice of the peace said with a clueless grin. “Says so right here.” He held up Emmett and Li’s marriage certificate, pointing to where she’d signed as a witness.

  Sikes acknowledged the signature and looked again at Geneve. “And I don’t even know where you’re from. You needn’t feel badly. I got way ahead of myself.”

  “Perhaps a little.” She met his gaze. “Please understand—I’m not giving you an absolute no. I’m just saying that I don’t know.” She glanced briefly at Juanito. “I don’t know yet.”

  After drawing a deep breath, Sikes gave an awkward grin and said, “Well, we’ve already got one wedding to celebrate today, anyway. What do you all say we go downstairs and enjoy a nice dinner together—my treat?”

  Emmett cast a glance at Juanito, then at Li. “After our little confrontation over at the saloon this afternoon, I don’t feel real comfortable dallying long here in El Paso.”

  Sikes frowned. “You want to ride out tonight?”

  Emmett held up a hand and then turned to the justice of the peace. “Mrs. Strong and I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us, Mr. Harper.” He grasped the justice’s hand and gave it a hearty shake, and in so doing, slipped a double eagle coin to the man for his services.

  “My pleasure, Mr. Strong.” He nodded to Emmett, then to Li. “Mrs. Strong.”

  Li smiled, a sparkle in her eyes.

  The justice of the peace stood where he was, as though he was waiting for something more.

  Emmett picked up the man’s hat from the dressing table and handed it to him.

  Harper still hesitated, looking from face to face, blinking repeatedly.

  “The marriage certificate, if you please, Mr. Harper?” Emmett said.

  “Oh. Yes. Here you go.” Harper handed over the parchment.

  Emmett then guided the fellow by the shoulder to the door. “Thanks, once again,” he said as he nudged him into the hallway.

  After closing the door on the justice of the peace, Emmett turned back to Sikes. “Yes, I’d like to ride tonight. But only as far as San Elizario—the next town where we can catch a train heading east. I don’t want to leave room for trouble to spoil my wedding day.” His gaze returned to Li.

  “Well, all right, then,” Sikes said. He turned to Geneve. “So, my dear, will you ride with us? I promise to say no more of marriage.”

  She clutched onto his arm. “Most assuredly, Mr. Sikes. I’m ready whenever these other fine folks are.”

  “OK, then, ladies and gents,” Emmett said, “gather your belongings, and we’ll see you in the lobby in fifteen minutes. Then we’ll be off to the livery…”

  The door was barely closed behind Sikes, Geneve, and Juanito when Emmett took Li into his arms and kissed her like there was no tomorrow.

  He thought his heart might just pound its way right on out of his chest. “I’m sorry we can’t stay and celebrate and…”

  Placing both hands on his face, she smiled mischievously. “Don’t worry. When the time comes, it will be a celebration to remember for a long, long time.”

  Dang. The things he wanted to do now. Staring into her eyes, he felt all a-flush. We need to get to San Elizario. And fast.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  At precisely five minutes before nine the next morning, the back door of the Wild Hog Saloon opened, and Franklin Taft’s lookout man, Clive Mackey, stepped out into the alley, twelve-gauge at the ready. He peered up and down the alleyway, took a few guarded steps to the right to peer around the corner of the dry goods store that backed up to the saloon, then returned to the door and motioned Taft out.

  The saloon owner was carrying a strongbox containing every penny the place had earned him during the month since he’d taken ownership, plus a bit of his own poker winnings. As he and Mackey began to trudge down the alleyway, Taft said, “Might’ve left a minute or so too soon. Don’t want to be standing around on the boardwalk in front of the bank with all this cash if old Sydney Crouch is late opening up.”

  “He always opens a couple minutes early,” Mackey said. “You know that, sir.”

  “No, I don’t know that.”

  “Hmm, thought you did. Anyways…how much cash is in the box?”

  “Why don’t you just keep your mouth shut and your eyes open, Mackey? You ought to know better than to be yammering about such things out in public.”

  Mackey stopped and pivoted in a complete circle. “I don’t see no public, Mr. Taft. Besides, I was just makin’ conversation.”

  “Yes, well, it’s not welcome. Now get a wiggle on.”

  “If you say so.” Mackey resumed walking, taking long strides until he approached an intersecting alleyway, at which point he slowed and looked cautiously, side to side, before proceeding.

  The two traveled perhaps three blocks farther with the lookout man slowing to warily check each of the narrow paths that separated buildings along the way. With the back wall of a barbershop on one side and a presently out-of-business bath and laundry establishment on the other, Mackey slowed once again to peer around the next corner. As soon as he did
, there was a smart thwack.

  Taft caught just a glimpse of a rifle stock rebounding from Mackey’s head as the lookout man staggered backward.

  Clutching the cashbox, the saloon owner gasped and spun to make a run for it. Midturn, something brutally unyielding dealt an unforgiving blow to his own noggin. His stomach pitched, and bile began to rise. All of a sudden, the world faded to black.

  When he came to, the sun was glaring brightly in his face. His head hurt something fierce. The words the people hovering over him were saying were a muddle. He blinked several times, trying to clear the strange haze from his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

  “They jumped us, Mr. Taft.” It was Mackey’s voice.

  With great effort, Taft managed to focus on his lookout man, whose forehead bore a substantial goose egg that hadn’t been there before. It took a few more seconds for the words to register. Then it came to him—where he was and what he’d been doing when the lights went out. “Who jumped us, Mackey?”

  “It was—”

  Taft felt a sudden knot in his belly. “The box! Did they get the box?”

  “Yes, sir, I’m afraid they did.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Same damn bunch that came in and took Geneve yesterday. I got a peek at that Strong fella’s face just before he whacked me ’cross the head with his Winchester.”

  “Son of a…wasn’t enough they stole my prettiest dove? Had to come back for all my hard-earned cash, besides?”

  “I seen ’em too, Mr. Taft.”

  Taft pushed himself up onto one elbow and shaded his eyes with his hand. “Who’s that?”

  “It’s me—Russ Johnson.” The crusty cowhand type squatted beside him. He drew on his cigarette and exhaled. “I’s in your saloon yesterday when them no-goods came in and took what plainly belonged to you. Sure ’nough, like Mackey said, it was them three that bushwhacked you. Seen ’em with my own two eyes—running for their horses with that strongbox in hand.”