Ralph Compton - Bluff City

“We should not have come,” Clay said sourly. “Why you accepted is beyond me.”

“Don’t start that again.”

A grandfather clock in the corner chimed eight. Somewhere off in the mansion a door closed.

Clay reached under his jacket and adjusted his shoulder holster. “Whatever happens, stay close to me.”

“I keep telling you,” Melanie said. “He won’t dare touch us. Too many people know he invited us, my uncle among them.”

“You don’t know Barker like I do. He won’t let a little thing like that stop him. He thinks he can do anything and get away with it.”

“You gnaw your worries to death, don’t you?”

“Poke fun. Just remember I warned you when our host unsheathes his claws. Out of the corner of an eye Clay became aware of a figure in the doorway. Spinning, he started to slide his hand under his jacket.

It was Charles. “If you would be so good as to follow me?” he requested with a polite smile.

The dining room was spacious enough to feed fifty. There was a door at each end as well as the one they came through in the middle of the room. A long mahogany table lined by mahogany chairs glistened with fresh polish. Sterling silverware gleamed under the light of a chandelier. Several servants stood around waiting to serve.

Charles escorted them to two places near the head of the table and pulled the chairs out for them.

Clay smoothed his jacket so the bulge did not show. “Where is our host?”

“Mr. Barker will be here presently, sir,” Charles said. “In the meantime, what would you and Miss Stanley like in the way of refreshments? You may have any drink you like.”

“Is there any chance I can get a Cherry Do or a Peach Do?” Melanie asked. “They are weaknesses of mine.”

“You may have either. Which do you prefer?”

Melanie giggled. “How about a Cherry Do to start? When I finish it, I’ll have a Peach Do.”

“As you wish. And you, sir?”

“Water.”

“That’s all, sir? We can make over a hundred mixed drinks. Or you can have straight whiskey. I seem to recall you drank that at the Emporium.”

Clay was tempted, but he wanted to keep his head clear and his reflexes sharp. “Just water.”

“Very well.” Charles bowed and departed.

Melanie ran a hand over the tablecloth. “You should indulge yourself. A treat like this doesn’t come along often.”

“A gilded cage is still a cage,” Clay reminded her.

“Oh, posh. I refuse to let you spoil my mood. Harve Barker is many things, not all of them praiseworthy, but he is not and has never been a fool.”

“I’ll remember you said that when the wolf shows just how rabid it can be,” Clay responded.

A pretty young woman in a short purple dress brought the Cherry Do and the water.

“Delicious,” Melanie said after taking a sip. “I can tell I am going to enjoy myself immensely.”

A door at the other end of the dining room opened and in strolled the man of the manor. He wore a tailored jacket, vest and pantaloons, all his favorite color, a striking purple shade, and gray pumps. By the time he reached the chair at the head of the table, Charles was there to hold it out for him. Barker sat with a flourish and bestowed a warm smile on Melanie. The smile evaporated when he looked at Clay. “Greetings to you both. I am glad you accepted. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”

“Not at all,” Melanie said.

“Mind telling me why I’m here?” Clay bluntly demanded.

Harve Barker fiddled with the hem of his sleeve for a moment. “Direct and to the point. I like that. You are here, Mr. Adams, so that we might clear the air, as it were. But that can wait, can it not, until after we have eaten? I am sure Miss Stanley would rather we hold our personal business until the end.”

“That I would,” Melanie said. “And since when do you call me Miss Stanley? My first name has always been good enough.”

“It has,” Barker conceded, “but that was before a certain entanglement presented itself.” He cast a pointed glance at Clay.

“Please, Harve,” Melanie said. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I am being as gracious as I know how,” Barker said. “You can’t hold a slight bitterness against me. I had high hopes regarding you at one time, if you will recall.”

“We can still be friends,” Melanie said. “And before we go any further, I should make it clear to you that is all Clay and I are. Good friends.”

“Is that so?” Barker said. “I should think you would be more by now, given how much time the two of you spend together.”

“Why, Harve, have you been spying on us?” Melanie asked with a grin.

Barker did not answer. He clapped his hands and servants scurried to their tasks. China plates were set out. Neatly folded napkins were placed at their elbows.

“Your servants are marvelously efficient,” Melanie complimented them.

“They better be,” Barker said. He clapped again and tray after tray of food was brought in. Platters of beef, pork and venison. Two kinds of soup. The vegetables included corn, string beans and peas. Fried, sliced potatoes were offered, as were corn bread and pudding. A tray of cheeses contributed to the elegance.

“All this for us!” Melanie exclaimed.

“You should know by now,” Barker said, “I spare no expense in anything I do. When I want something, I do whatever it takes to acquire it.”

Clay did not take part in the idle talk that followed. He picked at some venison, nibbled on a slice of Swiss cheese, and ate a little corn and pudding. Whenever servants came near the table he placed his right hand in his lap, his fingers under his jacket.

Melanie and Barker chatted and laughed. Barker seemed to have forgotten Clay was there. Not once in the entire meal did Barker look at him.

Over an hour was consumed. Then the servants cleared the trays and plates, and Charles produced a cigar that Barker snipped and lit, saying out the side of his mouth to Melanie as he did, “I trust you won’t mind? You have indulged me in the past.”

“My father and my uncle both smoke pipes, so I am accustomed to the smoke,” Melanie said.

Barker motioned at his manservant. “That will be all, Charles. See that the staff goes to their quarters and stays there until I send word they may come out. Then tell Mr. Train I will see him.”

“Very well, sir.”

“Train?” Melanie said. “Is he another guest?”

“No, someone I have hired. A very special individual. One of the few who pursue his line of work.”

“How mysterious.”

“A lot of what I do is not for public scrutiny,” Barker informed her.

Clay stayed silent no longer. “Would Marshal Vale be interested in any of your doings?”

“Don’t start,” Melanie chided. “You will spoil the evening.”

“That’s all right,” Barker told her. He turned toward Clay. “Interesting that you mentioned our good town marshal. He came to see me about you. It seems he had heard you and I were at odds, and that you and some of the men who work for me were in a few scrapes. Vale wanted to impress on me that he would not take it kindly if anything were to happen to you.”

“He did?” Clay was genuinely surprised.

“Ah. Then you didn’t put him up to it?” Barker pursed his lips. “Not that his wishes matter in the least. I do what I think best for me. I always have. I always will.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of crowing about yourself?” Clay fired a verbal salvo.

“I wasn’t boasting, Mr. Adams. I was stating fact.” Barker inhaled on his cigar and leisurely blew a smoke ring. “Now then. Suppose we get to why I asked you here. I would imagine you are both quite curious.”

“I was hoping it was to mend fences,” Melanie said.