California Woman (Daughters of the Whirlwind Book 1) (41 page)

"I don't see…"

"I have a plan. If I were here, in
your establishment, for one hour, one night, you could arrange for him to be
with me, could you not?"

"I suppose I could," Arabella
mused, weighing the proposal. "Don't see why not."

"That is the favor I spoke of. I
wish to be with him. Once. To satisfy this thing that leaves me sleepless
nights on end."

"I know what you mean, dearie. I've
had cravings for someone like that myself."

"Mr. Cora?"

"Yeah. I can't get enough of him.
He's no good. But I love the rotter. I'm crazy about him, and the thought of
him gettin' himself killed makes me even crazier."

"Then you do know the torment I'm
going through."

"Yeah. I don't know if once is gonna
cure it…"

"It will have to. It must. If you
will arrange it, I'll pay you five thousand dollars. Enough to cover the rest
of your Mr. Cora's gambling debts."

"When do you?—wait a minute. There's
a problem. Luther's gone."

 "Gone?" Esther felt her heart
sink into a suddenly hollowed-out stomach.

"Yeah. He's up to Sacramento. Lawyer
by trade. Used to be a marshal. But he's got political notions. Went up to
Sacramento to put his head together with Senator Gwin, the Southerner."

Esther let out a sigh of relief. "He
won't be gone long, then?"

"No. Just a couple weeks, I'd guess.
Maybe less. Said he'd be back in time to celebrate New Year's with us. Wanted
me to think up somethin' special."

 "You'll arrange it, then?"

 "Soon's he gets back. How'll I
reach you?"

"You won't have to. I'll know when
he is back. And I'll contact you."

"Shouldn't be any problem. He comes
in everyday when he's in town."

"I know," Esther said.
"You will receive half of the money the night it takes place. Ahead of
time. Half afterward, delivered the following day in an envelope."

"You sure play it careful."

"I must. I have to be sure he never knows
who
i
am, cannot possibly cause
me problems with my husband after it's done."

"But he'll see you in the room here.
He'll be able to recognize you after."

"No. I plan to wear my hat and veil.
And my gloves. Do you think he'll object?"

Arabella thought for a moment, then
smiled. "He'll love it! He goes for the unusual, a little mystery. Fact,
I'll use it when I tell him it's the somethin' really special I dreamed up for
him."

Esther's mind raced. "Tell him I
will not wear the hat and veil the second time we are together." Arabella
Ryan laughed knowingly. "You're a devil, you are. Planned all along to see
him again, didn't you?"

"Yes. But only here. So he will
think I'm a… prostitute. And I will make sure you are taken care of generously
for continuing to keep my secret."

She was lying on the brass bed—naked
except for the new deep-lavender hat, veil, and long silk gloves she had
purchased before—when Mosby entered the room. He was smoking a cigar. She
trembled when he sat down next to her on the bed, touched at the pale birthmark
between her breasts, and smirked. She thought she could actually hear the rapid
beating of her heart. She pictured the pistol hidden under the two pillows
beneath her head and suppressed an urge to claw at Mosby's face.

"Old Arabella wasn't lyin' when she
said she got up somethin' special for me. You new here?"

"Yes." Trying to look relaxed,
she folded her hands behind her neck and calculated how long it would take to
pull the pistol, shoot him, put on her clothes, and get down the back stairs.

"And you like bein' a little
mysterious, do you?"

"Yes," she said, forcing
herself to reach out and put one hand on his thigh.

"And you don't like to talk
much."

"No."

She started to slip her other hand under
the pillow when he glanced away for a moment, but then he turned back.

"Well, the less talk from you, the
better, and I like the mystery. What I can't see's made up for by what I
can."

"Thank you."
Oh, God, how I
hate you.

"You any good?"

"You will soon see."

"That I will."

He stood up and unbuttoned his jacket.
She could see the derringer he wore under one arm. She decided to wait.

"You mind if I finish this cigar
before I get undressed?" he said, walking over to a partially open window.
"Just lookin' at you is gettin' me ready."

"I can see that." You
animal
.

"Goddamn, I never seen such a
body!" He took a drag on the cigar and smiled. "Well, if this is as
good as the rest of the day has been, I might as well've slept in horseshit
last night."

"You've had good fortune
today?"

"The best. Can't go into all the
details, but what it amounts to is a shoo-in for a really fine legal position
in about six months."

If you are still alive
,
she thought.
Which you won't be.
"What sort of legal
position?"

He flicked a glowing cylinder of ash out
through the window. For a moment he turned away from her and watched the wind
scatter it across an attached shed-roof. His gaze was on her again before there
was time for her to make a move. "Funny. I wouldn't tell this to anyone I
know. And you got to promise you'll keep it…" He laughed. "Under your
hat."

"It's always easier to reveal things
to a stranger… I won't tell a soul. Not even Arabella."

"She knows, so she's all
right." He waved a finger. "But no one else, you hear?" He drew
on the cigar again between clenched teeth as he took off his jacket and laid it
on a chair.

 When he has the gun off
,
Esther thought, her heart beginning to race,
then I will do it
.

"You're right, you know. I've told
more secrets to whores than you can shake a stick at. Anyways, I'm a lawyer.
And some friends of mine in Sacramento are fixin' it so's I become a judge
later this year."

"That's wonderful," she said,
attempting to look happy for him, trying to will her heart from pounding so
rapidly.

"Yeah, ain't it? Bought me a bar
examination in Galveston, and now I'm gonna buy me a seat on the California
Circuit Court. Ain't that a bitch?" Absently, he tossed the cigar butt,
still lit, out through the window, walked back, and sat down next to her on the
bed. "Give me a kiss."

"But you will see me and the mystery
will be gone."

He grabbed her painfully by one wrist,
jerked her up to a sitting position, and locked an arm around her waist.
"No, it won't. I'll close my eyes. Lift that fuckin' veil up now, and kiss
me like you mean it."

Full of revulsion, she kissed him,
remembering how the Chinese girl had plunged her tongue into the banker's
mouth. She reached back with her free hand toward the pillows. They were out of
reach.

"That's good. Now let the veil back
down and I'll open my eyes again."

He got up and slipped off his low-cut
boots.

"Take all your clothes off,"
she said. "Please. I want to see you without anything on."
You
beast…. you filthy, rotten…

"At your service, ma'am." He
slipped off the shoulder holster and hung it over the chair, still staring at
her breasts. "Git down by the end of the bed, by the brass railing. Bend
over and spread your legs so I can see your bumhole."

Esther saw the long, snaking scar on his
left arm before she reluctantly moved and exposed herself. The thought of what
he had done to Murietta, to Mwamwaash, to Miwokan, to her son and herself
steeled her as she heard him remove the rest of his clothing and pad over to
the bed.

"All right, turn around now."

She gasped when she saw the size of him again.
For a moment, vague recollections of that night with him in the mountains
almost made her cry out and smash at him with her fists. Breathing hard, she
fought to control her rage. She was aware of the derringer hanging over the arm
of the chair, and of the distance to the pillows.
Not yet
, she thought.
Not
until he is on the bed.

"You like that, do you? Like the old
boy's
pego?
Ever
seen the likes of it?"

"No."

"Well, what are you waiting
for?"

"Aren't you going to get into bed
with me?"

"I like to have it sucked standin'
up for a while. Makes it bigger. And I can feel what you're doin' on the
bottoms of my feet." He laughed.

She eased over to the edge of the bed and
sat, feet on the floor, in front of him. She looked at the scar and the notched
leather brace encircling his left elbow, became aware of how limply his left
arm hung, then closed her eyes for a moment, knowing he could not see her face.
Let me have the strength
, she thought.
Let me have the skill.
She
opened her eyes and reached out, gripping his penis firmly and squeezing it in
successive, tightening, and releasing holds.

"Goddamn, that feels good."

She watched it rise a fraction more as
she worked her dry mouth and finally produced some saliva. She spilled it
carefully onto her gloved right fingers and began working him.

"Jesus, you know what it's all
about, don't you?"

She lifted her veil slightly and took
him, almost gagging, unable to do nearly as much as the Chinese girl had done
to the banker. Improvising, she caressed him with the sides and roof of her
mouth. She pointed her tongue and probed, then worked alternately with her
mouth and the moistened gloved hand.

"Lie on the bed," she said.
"Please."

He lay down with his head on the pillows.

"Not that way. Across the bed."

"Fuck that. I want to be
comfortable… Now do what you were doing some more."

She worked and fondled him, finally
pulling herself up and slowly easing down onto it. She began moving up and down
slowly, hurting, fighting rage and disgust, and digging her gloved fingers into
his arms as she tried to shut the thought and feeling of what she was doing
from her mind. She glanced at his face as she flexed her genital muscles, rose,
relaxed, eased down, rotated, leaned slightly backward, then flexed again,
increasing the tension and friction he was feeling. His eyes were closed. She
leaned forward and lay on his chest, still moving. Slowly, she slid one hand up
toward the pillow.

He opened his eyes. "I love those
fuckin' gloves and that hat," he said as the veil brushed against his
chin. "Turn over."

She was shocked for a moment, dreading
the thought of him in her anus. But then he lifted her bodily and rolled over
on top of her stomach.

"Wrap
your legs around me, you wild little bitch!" He shoved into her hard, and
she almost screamed from the pain. Lying there, she tried to focus on the
sounds of a piano and loud singing in the parlor downstairs.

In the alley next to the shed beneath the
windows, Luther Mosby's cigar butt ignited a dry, wind-scattered half-bale of
straw that had fallen from a wagon earlier that day. Spreading quickly, the
flames hit the fences on either side of the narrow passage. Blown by gusting
wind, sparks landed on the curtains hanging in Arabella Ryan's vacant
first-floor office. They burned rapidly, almost matching the speed of the
flames beginning to devour the empty carriage stable next door.

A portion of one of the curtains fell,
still burning, and wafted onto Arabella's desk. It set a newspaper and several
letters ablaze. In minutes the desk itself was burning. Then the kerosene lamp
exploded onto the carpet, and the room was suddenly an inferno. Outside,
shingles caught fire rapidly, and the flames lapped up and along the side of
the building.

Next door, the roof was ablaze now,
sending windblown sparks onto the bordello's overhanging eaves.

Just
outside Arabella's office, flame broke through the base of a thin wall and
raced up and forward through the decorative flocking along the hallway. Before
anyone in the parlor or the rooms upstairs knew what was happening, the fire
had taken hold over half of the first floor. Fed by a draft from raised
windows, it leaped a half foot, then a foot at a time, up the carpeting and
railings of the front and rear staircases.

Holding Esther's arms down, Mosby drove
into her again and again. She couldn't move. Each time he rammed home she
thought something would tear open.
I never meant for it to be this way
,
she thought, appalled and ashamed that around the rim of her disgust, the pain,
her hatred, she was experiencing the beginnings of a delicious sensation. She
fought it off, waiting for the moment he released her arms and she could reach
under the pillow for the gun.

She remembered how her emotions had
overruled her, almost brought her down in the gambling tent on Portsmouth
Square. She tried not to think of Mosby inside her, about to release his seed
in her again. I must let it happen.
I must give him his complete pleasure.
When he is done and lying beside me with his eyes closed, perhaps even dozing
,
then
I will do it… and I will succeed… and be gone before anyone realizes
what has happened.

She felt Mosby suddenly grow limp in her
and saw him gaping in disbelief at the window.

"
Jesus Christ!
” he shouted.
"Will you look at that!"

She turned and saw the flames leaping up
past the window, covering it in a matter of seconds. Tendrils of smoke filtered
around the sash and began extending into the room. She thought it strange that
she felt no fear.

"
The whole
fuckin'
place is on fire!
"
Mosby shouted, leaping up and pulling on his pants.

Almost in a state of shock from the sight
of the flames and what had taken place on the bed, Esther reached under the
pillow and searched for the gun. Distracted, she inadvertently pushed the
weapon out under the backs of the pillows and heard a faint thud as it fell to
the carpeted floor. She froze.

Mosby pulled on his boots. "Get the
fuck up and get dressed, less you want to roast right here!" He left his
shirt and jacket on the chair. The belt and holster hanging from his bare
shoulder, he rushed to the door and opened it.

Esther saw a naked man run past and
topple down into the stairwell as a blazing hallway railing gave way. A giant
hand seemed to hold her rigid in its grip. She willed herself to move, turned
over, reached down, and groped for the gun. She could not find it.

Mosby turned and saw her lying face down
on the bed. "Are you fuckin'
crazy
?" He came back and jerked
her up off the bed. "Where are your clothes? In that closet?" Without
waiting for an answer, he charged to the closet door, opened it and recoiled as
smoke billowed out and around him. An instant later, flames surged up through
the floor of the closet as he grabbed Esther's dress and threw it at her.

She was on her hands and knees now,
trying to reach the gun on the floor under the bed. He pulled her to her feet
and slapped her face. Pointing to her high-buttoned shoes beneath the skirt of
the mattress cover, he snapped: "You're on your own now. I got my own hide
to think of."

Numbly, Esther sat down, pulled on the
shoes, and put on the dress after he raced out through the door of the room.
She was standing, immobilized again by shock, terror, and frustration when he
came back. The curtains in the room were ablaze, and the wallpaper had begun to
peel and roll up around the window. There was a wild look in Mosby's eyes.

"There's no fuckin' way out!"
He glanced out the window and shook his head. The shed-roof along the side of
the house was afire. "Those bastards! They could have shouted, let us
know…!"