Robert McCammon: Last Train from Perdition

“Bu..bu…buy me a drink?” she asked, and if she had ever flinched at the sound of her own speech impediment those days were long gone; the way she held herself told Lawson she thought she was as good as anyone else here, or maybe she was just a very good actress.

“Certainly,” he answered, and she asked the bartender for—of course—champagne. Which made Lawson want to smile at the preposterousness of it, but he thought his smile might frighten her off so he did not. This girl had not approached him last night; it had been a Chinese girl who seemed to know only how to say in English “Buy drink? Buy drink?” But he had a use for this one.

The walking pumpkin flashed silver teeth at Ann and also asked for a drink. Ann shook her head. The pumpkin immediately got a look from Hell’s half-acre in her eyes. “You was in here last night,” she said, as if in reproach. “What’re you lookin’ for?”

“Peace,” Ann said.

“You a mite late,” came the answer. “Church burned down last month.” And with a flouncing of orange she turned away and strode with dignified grace into the midst of the gambling, hollering, cursing throng.

“What’s your name?” Lawson asked the girl, who was probably seventeen under all that pancake.

“What do you please to call me?”

“Blue,” he told her.

“Dandy. Then what do I ca…ca…call you? Whitey?”

“As you please. I’m also known as Trevor.”

“You got a funny accent.” Her eyes narrowed. “Not from around here?”

“From the south. I live in New Orleans.” Their drinks came. Was it champagne or colored water? Didn’t they know here that champagne should be fizzy? Lawson paid the bartender and touched his glass to Blue’s. “To your happiness,” he said.

She gave a quiet little laugh that had a twist in it, and when she sipped she watched him over the rim of the glass.

Lawson took the opportunity to let his gaze wander over the crowd of men. All he saw were hats, coats, and bearded faces, just like last night. He had Cavanaugh’s description of Eric fixed firmly in mind, but this taxed even the powers of a vampire. Blue was standing a little too close to him. Her blood smelled spicy, like pepper and cinnamon. He wafted the glass of foul whiskey under his nostrils to mask her appealing scent; it helped only a little.

“Would you like to make some money?” he asked her, just before another whoop of triumph burst forth at the roulette wheel. No matter, Lawson thought; the winnings would be back in the pocket of the house within the next few spins.

“That’s what I’m here for,” she said, with a slight lift of her half-empty glass.

“All right.” He dug into a pocket of his dark green waistcoat for a pair of silver dollars and put them before her on the bar. She glanced only casually at them, but he knew he had her. From here on, though, it was a dangerous ride. “We’re looking for someone.”

“Du…du…” She had to pause to get her tongue in working condition. “Do tell.”

“A young man by the name of Eric James. I can’t spot him in here because of all these beards. Do you know him?”

She gave Lawson a frown. “I figured you two might be the law. Openin’ for a sheriff here, if you’re interested. Last one got ta…tarred and feathered and rolled out of town in a ba…ba…barrel.”

“We’re not the law. We’re private.”

“Okey-dokey, if you sa…say so. What’s this fella done?”

“Nothing. I just want to talk to him.”

“Ha!” Blue smiled, though it was more of a sneer. “Come from New Orleans all this way to ta… talk ? You ain’t such a good liar.”

“It’s no lie. We want to talk to him. I’ll tell you that he’s in no danger from us, and in fact we’re in a position to help him. If you know him, do you also know his friends?”

Blue didn’t answer for a moment. She stared straight ahead and just over Lawson’s shoulder, and he knew she was trying to decide in quick order many things: whether to trust a stranger, whether to betray someone that she likely spoke to or had relations with on a fairly regular basis, or whether to give a damn at all.

At last she said, “His friends are a rowdy bu…bunch. He’s quieter than they are, kinda more refined.”

The vampire gunslinger’s gaze sharpened. He could easily send his Eye into her and draw out every secret, but it seemed a terrible violation. He would give her as much chance as he could. “Are any of them here?”

“They’re all here,” she answered without hesitation. She reached for the silver dollars, but Lawson’s hand was so much quicker; he covered the coins long before she could get there.

“You haven’t earned those yet.” So saying, he drew a third silver dollar from his pocket and set it down amid the others. “I want you to do this: go to Eric’s friends and touch them on the back, one after the other. Just make it casual, as you always would. Lastly, I want you to go to Eric and touch him. Tell him—as quietly as you can—to come to the bar. Speak the word ‘Omaha.’ Do you understand that? Afterward, come back here. You’ll get your money and I’ll buy you another glass of champagne.”

She snorted. “Ain’t real ch…ch…champagne.”

“I’ll buy you a glass of whatever you like, if you do what I ask.”

Blue looked from Lawson to Ann and back again. Her gaze fell to the holsters under their coats. “Is there guh…guh…” She got it out only with an effort. “Gonna be trouble?”

“I don’t know, but I will tell you again that we’re trying to help Eric. Gunplay is not what we favor.”

“Lots of gu…guns in here,” she said. “Men been shot d…d..dead for even drawin’ one.”

“I’m sure. Our intent is to leave here without anyone being hurt.”

Still she was not completely sold. “Eric’s okay,” she said. “His bunch…rougher’n six miles of ba…bad road. Wouldn’t want to cross ’em.”

“We’ll take care of that.” Lawson motioned toward the coins, which he figured was quite a payday for a girl in Blue’s position. “They’re yours, if you’ll help us…and help Eric too.”

“Help him to what ?”

“Freedom,” said Ann.

The way Ann had spoken that seemed to touch a chord in Blue. The saloon girl took a long look at Ann as if seeing her clearly for the first time. Then, abruptly, she shrugged her thin shoulders. “No sk…sk…skin off my ass,” she said, and her eyes had gone distant. “I’ll do it for two more dollars. Make it f…five.” She tapped the bartop with her fist, which had diamond shapes tattooed on the knuckles.

“My pleasure.” Lawson added the extra two silver dollars. “They’ll be waiting for you.”

Blue started to turn away and then stopped. “You ain’t g…g…gettin’ me in a damn m…mess, are you? I k…keep a clean nose.”

“No mess. A valuable service, that’s all.”

She nodded. She stared for a moment at the five silver dollars as if they were her only friends in the world. Then she made a small noise of assent that might have been a word or might just have been a little breath of air escaping her lips, and she turned away to the task at hand.

Three.

“Do you trust her?” Ann asked as they watched Blue move toward one of the Faro tables.

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Lawson took the opportunity to uncork his blood bottle and pour a little taste in to redden the bad whiskey, and he paid no mind that the bartender watched him as one might watch a dangerous and unpredictable animal.

Blue slipped through the crowd of men as the piano-player pounded the broken ivories and the cries of triumph and misery rang out. She stopped behind a man playing Faro and put a hand on his right shoulder, but he gave her no attention. Lawson and Ann saw that this man was slim and rawboned, had a mop of light brown hair and a slight darkening of beard. His brow seemed to overhang the rest of his long-jawed face and his eyebrows were dense brown thickets that met above the bridge of a hooked nose. He wore no hat but had on a red-plaid shirt and a gray jacket.