Irish Mike McCarthy were still pissed. He were used to gettin' things his way. Plain n simple. No questions askt. He'd broke more than a few rules to get where he were.
He stole neer two thousand in gold coin from the bank he worked at for three years, framin' his friend n mentor George Stevens in the process. The several fresh minted gold coins found in George's pockets when his body finally washed up pretty much convicted the man. The twice married accountant 'peared to be livin' beyond his means...
Irish Mike had bided his time fer almost a year 'fore headin' west with his new bride, Elizabeth Marshall, with a job offer penned by his own self. Liz was a young, comely girl with flamin' scarlet hair, willowy slender n a tight little bottom n cheery smile. After violatin' most every norm with the young gal as they traveled, he sold the wagon n most everything else (includin' Elizabeth) to a man on the run from the law.
Mike had convinced him 'a man travelin' with a wife would be beyond mosts scrutinee. The final tally after the sale and Elizabeth's willingness to do anything to escape her vile husband n his evile ways were near three thousand in gold. Irish Mike boarded a steamboat, gambled some, n then settled in Independence for a bit 'fore meetin' Judge Horace Pickett. A deviant gambler, the two shared many a night drinkin' and sharin' an occasional whore. It were Pickett that sent him to Winding Creek with the tale of a hotel, saloon n eatery that mite be had cheap: with the right approach of course. Pickett had given the Irishman enough background on the current owner that the sale was made quickly n the seller quietly left Winding Creek.
It were at the newly named Rusty Nail that Irish Mike met n friended Jack Seasons. Mike, seein' an openin' that could maybe help 'im, steert Mathew Billings to Jacks sister, Gretchen. The romance was short n the weddin' a pretty big shebang. Between the three new friends n with Judge Pickett, Bill Nelson n Al Stewart who owned the mill, things were set in motion to take the town in a 'new' die-rection.
There weren't a whole lot standin' twixt the newly formed group of conspirators n control of the town. Jist some old, neer worn out mountain man and a dozen er so other business owners. Most those others were beholdin' to J.D. in some way or another, includin' Bill Nelson. That is til he fell in love with one of the whores Mike had brought to Winding Creek. A whores promise kept Bill sniffin' around while the group figured n schemed.
Jack Seasons pretty much opened the door when he sweet talked J.D.'s oldest daughter Tiffany into marriage. The old man wasn't much of a threat after that, takin' to the jug a bit to often n his wife tendin' to his business. Who gave a rat's ass 'bout some woman n her high falutin' ways.
They had Jist Bob keepin' a close eye on the old timer n 'is ranch while he workt there, sometimes lettin' a favored mustang find its way to Jack's n then to Independence. Jist Bob would sometimes imply that fer the right price, ol' J.D. could have an accident or otherwise disappear. Pickett figured it was all jist talk knowin' Bob were a drifter when he got to Winding Creek n most of what he had were given to 'im or stole from ol' J.D.. After all, who'd trust a man like that any ways.
Then the beat all of all beat all's happened when Jack got lucky at the Rusty Nail's dice table. He'd run up neer four thousand in winnin's: first on a long odds bet of twenty dollars gold and then when he started rollin' the dice his self. Mike had to sell him twenty percent of hotel n bar to keep the saloon open. Gamblin' needed cash n Jack had all of Irish Mikes. Didn't matter much at the time. Seasons were a loud-mouthed fool n braggert. Mike jist never got around to buyin' it back, lettin' Jack drink fer free n givin' him first shot at the new whores n such.
Then Lucas Blake showed up n killt Jack not twenty feet away from where he were sittin'. Billing's n Sheriff Rivers failed at the attempt to kill the young man neer a week later: Billings paying for the mistake with his life. Sheriff Rivers were found dead not to long after that, cut up pretty good n scalped. His killer were never found. Irish had thoughts of who but kept it 'em to his self since Pickett put all their plans on hold after Mathew's dyin' the way he did.
But Irish Mike McCarthy were plottin' on his own now. Things would pick up where they'd left off after Lucas Blake were dead n planted next to his adopted daddy, J.D..
Irish Mike struggled with his famous temper when the stranger passt him that'd shunned his attempt at bein' friendly earlier in the day. He'd kept a careful eye on 'im as he walkt from the hotel, thru the Rusty Nail n then into his adjoinin' eatery.
He looked at the man sittin' at the end of the balcony that run along the whores' rooms 'bove the hotels double door entry. Motionin' with his eyes towards the stranger, Buck Michaels sittin' at the end of that balcony with his long gun, nodded in response. Buck was added after Lucas killt Jack. Mike figured that if anyone else was to do any killin' in the Rusty Nail, it were to be him or his that done it.
The new arrival were cleaned up now. Red shirt n dark gray britches fresh boiled n his vest polished clean: no hat, both his face n head fresh shaved. His holstered pistol were still set different than most; high on his hips, barrel pointed more left than down.
It were the way he carried that gun n his own self that held Mike's attention... n kept his temper in check. It'd take a sight more effort to kill Lucas Blake then havin' it done by a skilled gunman. Since holstered pistols were quick growin' in use, havin' one n the ability to use it weren't always one n the same.
Havin' shook off his slow growin' anger, Mike figured maybe he miten't take offense that the man didn't take 'is hand n then payin' his own self fer the offered drink. He'd checked the register at his hotel shortly after the man signed in n left. A small x was all it offered. Damn fool was ignorant as well as rude.
But then ag'in, maybe not. Man like that mite not want to be known. He were damn well sure of his self. Ma'be a man like Mike his self: Leavin' the past behind, startin' a new life. The gold rush had sent many men west. Some very dangerous men at that. Ma'be he'd try to make his acquaintances once more after the man had 'is supper...
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Lucas Blake rollt onto his side when 'is wife Linda Jean set to slow untangle herself from 'im to leave their bed. She'd babbled him to sleep the night before, askin' new questions 'fore he'd answert the one she jist askt before. She were as sure happy as he'd seen 'er in... How long?
He lay quiet as she slipped away n were almost asleep agin 'fore hearin' Tiffany Ann, Luna n Linda Jean carryin' on in the kitchen. Layin' flat on 'is back he could hear mummers n some hushed gigglin. There'd be no sense in tryin' to sleep with the three rattlin' on as quiet as they could n the smell of fresh coffee slow fillin' the air.
Lucas knowed at least some of was bein' said and the speculatin' that went with the announcin' of his n Tiffany Ann's early mornin' ride.
Linda Jean had gotten her way. He were still annoyed, but figured if it were to be it were goin' to be. Their momma had blesst it in her no uncertain way. She'd lived it with J.D. n Luis Tee: Though not long in the same house. The only unsettlin' words she had were to 'never put Tiffany ahead of Linda Jean'. Damn the very idea... Weren't his thinkin' that put 'em in this tangle.
He were pretty much settled 'bout the how; especially after Debra Ann had said J.D. always planned it be him n Tiff married, not him n Linda Jean. He thought about J.D. n then Charles Taylor. Bigamy were never much heard or spoke of til the Mormon war when Lucas dismisst it out of hand...
*
Linda Jean Blake wet the small towels end before wipin' the to much rouge from high on her sister's cheeks.
"Lucas likes plain Tiff, you know that. I swear, as pretty as you are."...
Tiffany had been up long before the sun that mornin', feelin' her way to the creek. The half-moon light peekin' from behind the scattered clouds above her allowed some light, but not much. She'd shed her moccasin's when she'd got there n after findin' the right spot in the fast movin' water, slipped off her nightshirt n tossed it back on the cold waters edge.
There'd ben little sleep that night, tossing and turning and trying to think of the ways it mite happen. Would Lucas be kind like he was with her sister? Would she feel the different ways her sister spoke of quietly with her with bright smilin' eyes and a flush in her cheeks? Was Lucas as different as she'd imagined? Hoped? Or were all men truly alike.
After all, Linda Jean only had been with Lucas. The same as Tiffany til her husband Jack gifted her to Mathew n then was shared with Jist Bob. The biggest difference between the three was the way they smelled and the size of their pecker.
Jack were most always quick and when he couldn't, expected her to help him finish with her hand or mouth. The most pleasures she ever got from him was when he'd use his mouth and then only twice that made her feel the sinful, whorish way Mathew did.
Least Mathew could finish what he started.
She shuddered at the remembrance of Mathew taking her several times that horrible day, then sharing her with Jist Bob. He'd made her serve the two men near naked the dinner she'd cooked. The two men took liberties in the slow coming dark, slapping at her bottom or groping her free swaying breasts n tugging at her sore, tender nipples. After their dinner, they used her in so many different ways together before each sodomizing her before they finally fell asleep. Bob was mostly quick but Mathew were slow n deliberate after their meal.
Then the long, tortious walk in the cold night with baby Jack swaddled n held tight in her arms. That walk to her parents' home, looking back over her shoulder in fear, was the longest she'd ever remembered...
She was damned now. A sodomite. A whore with a dead husband and child...
She picked her way back to the edge of the creek, easing onto the dew-covered grass. Slipping on her moccasins, she took note of the slow rising light way off in the east. A hint of red and gold coloring the slow lightin' sky. Slippin' her night shirt back on, she wondered again about her sister. How she swore Lucas would take care of them both; Just like he always had since coming into their lives. He'd make sure as the comin' up sun no one would ever hurt her again... Help her be the woman she mostly was before that day...
*
Luke stayed clear of the kitchen n the whisperin' women inside it. He even waited til he were on the porch to climb into his boots. Smoke were already perched near the closest end of the corral, his long gun settin' close by. His sharp whistle brought Quick through the open sliding door of the barn leadin' Patch n his own red speckled Cherry.
Lucas was more n pleased in Quicks choice fer Miss Tiffany. A man most never offered his own mount. Luke knew what that mustang meant to the younger man.
"Mornin' Quick."
"Good mornin' Sir."
"Why Cherry?"
"You said the gentlest Sir. Cherry is that n more. Even Miss Linda said she's a fine horse."
"Miss Linda?"
"When she's out n about Mr. Blake."
Lucas nodded then lookt hard at 'im.
"You like it here Quick."
The young man felt the color in his face decidin' if it should come red with pride or pale to white.
