Gilley I said hello.”
Metzger lifted his thumb from the handle of his pistol, preparatory to pulling back the hammer, but his thumb never reached the hammer. Hawke drew and fired. His bullet crashed into Metzger’s forehead, then burst out through the back of his head. A little spray of blood glowed pink in the light of the overhead lanterns.
Metzger fell back onto a nearby table, breaking it and winding up at the bottom of the V that was formed by the two pieces. He was dead before he ever realized he was in danger.
“My God! How’d you do that?” Jake asked.
“How did I do what?” Hawke replied.
“How’d you kill him, when he already had the drop on you?”
“Simple,” Hawke said. “While Metzger was thinking, I was acting.”
“What do you mean he had his gun in his hand when Hawke shot him?” Dancer asked.
“’Cause I was there and I seen it,” Booker Landers said.
“Nobody is that fast,” Dancer said. “Nobody.”
“This here fella is,” Landers said. “I was lookin’ right at him, and I tell you the truth, I didn’t even see him draw. I mean, one second he was standin’ there by the piano, and the next thing you know the gun was in his hand and he was already shootin’ it. I don’t know how he got it out so fast.”
“Do you think he is faster than you, Mr. Dancer?” Bailey asked.
“No!” Dancer answered, slamming his fist on the counter in the office. “He’s not faster than I am.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” Dancer said. “Don’t worry about it. When the time comes, I will take care of him.”
“Yes, I have every confidence that you will,” Bailey said.
Chapter 22
AT ALMOST THE SAME TIME THE WATER STARTED flowing again, the cowboys who had left the range to try their hand at searching for gold began returning. At first they came back in ones and twos, then small groups, then in droves. Within two weeks South Pass City, which had for a short time been the third largest settlement in Wyoming, was all but deserted, the tents struck and its occupants moved out. Now all that remained was a half- built saloon and the magnificent structure that was once the Golden Cage.
The overnight businesses that had sprung up in Green River—the outfitters, the Gold Nugget Haulers, and others—closed their doors. Now, three passenger carriages and six freight wagons were lined up down at the depot, waiting for flat cars to transport them to someplace more productive.
A buckboard, driven by Hawke, came into town by way of White Mountain Road. Pamela was riding in it, and they followed the road to Railroad Avenue, stopping in front of Blum’s Mercantile.
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” Pamela said as she climbed down.
“No hurry,” Hawke replied.
“Why, Mr. Hawke, we meet again,” a woman’s voice called from the boardwalk in front of the mercantile.
Looking toward the voice, Hawke saw Libby St. Cyr. He touched the brim of his hat. “Miss St. Cyr,” he said.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your lady friend?” Libby asked.
Hawke hesitated for a second, then decided that Pamela was the kind of person who probably would not take offense.
“Miss Dorchester, this is Miss St. Cyr,” Hawke said. Then, to Libby, he added, “Miss Dorchester is the daughter of the owner of Northumbria.”
“Oh, yes, I know all about the great ranch called Northumbria,” Libby said. “I must say, it is an honor to meet you, Miss Dorchester.”
“Are you just visiting?” Hawke asked. “I thought you, Jay, and the others, were up at South Pass.”
Libby chuckled. “There is no South Pass anymore. Not since word got around that there is no gold and there never was. Everyone left, so we had no choice but to leave as well.”
“I can see how that would be bad for your business.”
“Her business?” Pamela asked. “What is her business?”
“She, uh…that is…” Hawke started to say.
“I’m a whore, Miss Dorchester,” Libby said easily. “A very high-class whore, but a whore all the same.”
“Oh my,” Libby said. “You eschew the use of euphemisms, I see.”
“You mean like, soiled dove?” Libby replied. She chuckled. “Yes, that is the colorful and perhaps even genteel way of referring to the profession. But it is also dissembling. No, Miss Dorchester, I take full responsibility for what I am.”
“Well, I must say that I admire your candidness.”
“Listen, how would you two like to have lunch with us?” Libby asked. “Jay can get the private dining room at the hotel.”
“Oh, I—” Hawke started to say, but was interrupted by Pamela.
“Would love to,” Pamela said.
“Great!” Libby replied. “Say, one o’clock at the hotel?”
“We’ll be there.”
Excusing herself, Libby walked on down the sidewalk with all the flounces in her dress fluttering in the morning breeze.
“I hope you don’t mind my accepting the invitation,” Pamela said after Libby was out of hearing.
“No, I don’t mind,” Hawke said. “Although I’m a little surprised that you did.”
“Why are you surprised?”
“Well, because Libby…uh, that is I mean Miss St. Cyr, is…”
“Yes, I know, she is a whore. She was quite candid on that point, I believe.”
Hawke smiled and nodded. “Yes, she was that, all right.”
“Mr. Hawke, are you not aware of the fact that every woman has a burning curiosity about such things?”
“No, I guess I didn’t know that,” Hawke replied.
“I’m very much looking forward to our lunch.”
The private dining room of the hotel was well-appointed, and a large table was set for six with gleaming china, sparkling crystal, and shining silver. Jay Dupree was a gracious host, and he paid particular attention to Pamela, hurrying over to hold the chair for her before anyone else could.
The conversation during the meal was animated.
“You never did come up to South Pass to play the piano for us,” Libby said.
“That would have been hard for him to do, my dear,” Jay said. “Since we didn’t have a piano.”
Libby laughed. “Now that you mention it, we didn’t, did we?”
“I had plans to bring one up there, but we didn’t stay long enough. As soon as everyone found out there wasn’t any gold, they left.”
“That’s for sure,” Sue said. “Why, that place emptied like a theater after a play.”
“Here’s what I still don’t understand,” Libby said. “Why did they go to all that trouble to make people think there was gold up there? I mean, nobody was selling claims or anything like that. It doesn’t seem to make sense.”
“Oh, it makes sense all right,” Pamela said. “If you understand the real reason.”
“What is the real reason?”
“Yes, I’d be interested in that as well,” Jay added.
“It was all a means of getting land,” Pamela said. “Bailey McPherson convinced Addison Ford that she would be building a railroad from Green River to South Pass, and Ford, acting for the federal government, began taking land away from the valley ranchers and giving it to her.”
“How can he do that?” Jay asked.
Pamela explained about the Railroad Land Grant Act of 1862.
