Deloras Scott - The Devil's Kiss

“Oh, but I have, Mr. Smyth.” Beth leaned forward, excitement shining in her eyes. “I am looking for a man who can show me the real West, and who better to do that than a real outlaw?” She leaned back in her chair. “I’m disappointed that since my trip from Boston began, I have yet to see a man wearing a weapon on his hip.”

“I can assure you the people hereabouts are just as civilized as they are in Boston. And, contrary to the picture you apparently have in mind, wanted men do not go about sporting hardware on their hips, nor do they make themselves available. They would be hauled off to jail.” Why would a woman of obvious quality even consider such a thing? Smyth wondered. It certainly couldn’t be for the money. Well, it wasn’t any of his concern. When she left Independence, he’d be finished with her.

“If you are unable to get what I want,” Beth said calmly, “I will locate someone better qualified to handle the matter.”

John frowned. “There is a jail, but I wouldn’t recommend—”

Beth stood. “Good. I knew you would come up with something. We’ll leave immediately. I want to get everything settled as quickly as possible so I can be on my way.”

John pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead. It had been a tedious day. “Instead, why don’t I look into the matter and report back? I’m certain you would rather rest after your long journey.”

“May I remind you that I stepped off the paddle wheel two days ago? Besides, I can rest after I die.” Beth anointed him with a radiant smile. “Well, are we going?”

“Y-yes, of course, but I doubt we’ll be immediately successful in our quest,” John hedged. “However, given proper time, I’m certain I can find the type of man you are looking for.”

“Well, we won’t know until we try. Shall we be on our way?”

The gentleman stood. He had tried to dissuade Mrs. Alexander from going to the jail. Now he could only hope Wagner had had enough time to get there from Texas. As they walked down the hotel stairs he thought about how shocked the lovely Mrs. Alexander would be should she discover she was about to be used by the government to track down a band of outlaws. When they entered his coach Smyth swallowed a chuckle. And wouldn’t the widow really blow off steam if she knew he wasn’t the real John Smyth? He was simply there to set up everything.

When the carriage pulled to a halt, Beth was surprised to see the size of the jail. She hadn’t expected the Tower of London, but neither had she expected such a small brick building. Could prisoners actually breathe in such a place?

The deputy inside was snoring so loudly he didn’t hear the visitors enter—until Smyth shoved the man’s feet off the scarred desk.

Deputy Carson jumped to his feet. Startled at seeing the well-dressed lady, he sputtered, “Ah...ma’am, I think you’ve come to the wrong place. This here’s a jail.”

“Obviously,” Beth stated tartly.

“Mrs. Alexander is looking to buy an outlaw,” John announced.

The statement caused the deputy to choke on his tobacco juice. After a coughing fit and several gasps, he finally managed to catch his breath. “Whoever heard of such a thing? ’Sides, all I got is a couple of men sleeping off a drunk.” Easterners sure can come up with some of the damnedest things, he thought.

“Mrs. Alexander is willing to pay you handsomely for the right outlaw.” John winked at the deputy trying to indicate that money could be made from this deal.

“Of course, he must be good at what he does. And a gentleman,” Beth added.

Carson was beginning to get Smyth’s message. “It just so happens I do have such a man.” He certainly wasn’t above making money off a drunk.

“And he must know how to shoot and talk to Indians,” John added. The only problem with this entire setup was not letting the deputy in on the deal. But orders had been to let no one else know what was really going on. Even he didn’t know all the facts.

“Oh, he does,” Carson assured Beth. “Yes, sirree. Why, he’s even robbed a bank or three,” he threw in for good measure. He glanced at John to be sure he was saying the right things. Just how much money was this woman willing to pay?

John nodded his encouragement.

“There’s a reward for him,” Carson added as an afterthought.

“How big of a reward?” Beth asked.

“A... five hundred?”

Beth clapped her hands. “Wonderful. I’ll buy him.” She looked at John. “See how easy that was?”

Carson couldn’t believe his good fortune. He should probably feel guilty about taking advantage of the lady, but he didn’t. “Plus what he owes for tearing up the Gun Runner Saloon last night.”

“Who shall I pay?” Beth inquired.

“Me. You can pay me.” Carson said.

“I want to take a look at the man first,” John insisted.

The deputy opened the door leading to the two cells. John stepped into the narrow walkway.

“And how much do I owe the saloon?” Beth asked the deputy.

As soon as John saw the big man lying on the bare straw mattress, he released his breath. He should have known Wagner would be there as arranged. This had to be an important assignment for President Grant to send his best man. He was also the most cold-blooded son of a bitch John had ever worked with—but that was neither here nor there. The man always seemed to get the job done.

“What is your name?” John asked, loud enough for the others to hear.

“Who the hell wants to know?”

“I do. I might have a job for you.”

“Just call me Sir Outlaw.” The big man laughed at his own joke.

“I have a lady who is willing to pay a good wage for a man who can show her the West. Would you be interested in such a proposition?”

“Hell, yes. Beats staying in this confounded place. I’d make a good guide.”

John walked back out just in time to block Beth from entering. He closed the door behind him.

“Perhaps I should take a look. I don’t want to spend money unnecessarily.”

“He needs to be cleaned up before being presented to a lady.”

“Well, what do you think?” Beth asked.

“He seems to be just the man you’re looking for.”

The deputy tried not to stare as the lady reached into her reticule for the money, but he was having an awfully hard time believing his good luck. “The prisoner’s name is Cole Wagner, ma’am,” he stated. He couldn’t believe the amount of coin that was being placed in his hands.

“Thank you,” Beth said sweetly. “I will send two men to take him away. Even so, it might be wise to have him manacled.”

Inside the cell, Cole Wagner scratched his bearded chin, grinned, then returned to his smelly mattress. So far everything had gone as planned. But for now, he needed all the rest he could get. His trip from Texas had been long.

The rhythm of rain splattering on the tin roof soon had him sleeping as soundly as a newborn babe.

That afternoon Deputy Carson and his handcuffed prisoner stood just inside the doorway of the jail, staring at two brawny men who were climbing out of a coach. Cole could tell by their hesitant smiles that they weren’t too sure how they were supposed to handle him.

Since the good deputy had already repeated his conversation with the woman, Cole saw no reason to delay his departure. He nodded at the men, ducked his face from the rain, then ran to the coach. In truth, he needed to get away from the jail as quickly as possible. At any time the deputy could have recognized his picture, if the Wanted posters had already been distributed. Too many explanations would have had to have been made, and under the circumstances he couldn’t afford that to happen. But that was exactly why Smyth had selected this particular jail. The deputy was new and gave no inkling of ambition. It was doubtful he even looked at the Wanted posters.