Demon's Pass (17 page)

“I tell you what
I'm
going to do,” Pecorino said. “First thing I'm going to do is get me a good, sit-down meal. Then, after I've had myself a good meal, and maybe a little whiskey, I figure on gettin' me a woman.”

“How are you going to do that?” Parker asked.

“Well, hell, I'm just going to go into a restaurant and order it,” Pecorino replied.

“No, I don't mean the meal. How are you going to get a woman? We're only going to be here for a couple of days. How are you going to meet one that fast?”

Pecorino, Tobin, and Jason stopped walking and looked at Parker for a moment as if not sure he wasn't putting them on. Then they burst out laughing.

“What is it? What's so funny?”

“I didn't say nothin' 'bout
meetin'
a woman,” Pecorino said. “I said I was goin' to
get
me a woman. There's a difference.”

When, by his expression, Parker showed that he still didn't understand what Pecorino was saying, Jason interpreted for him.

“He's talkin' about a whore,” Jason explained.

“Oh,” Parker replied. And, with his understanding, came embarrassment over his earlier naïveté. He blushed.

“You know what we ought to do,” Tobin said as they resumed walking. “We ought to break ole Parker in.”

“Break me in how?”

“You ever had a woman, Parker?”

“Well . . . uh . . . no, I haven't,” Parker admitted.

“I didn't think so,” Tobin said. He looked at Jason. “What about you, boy? You ever had your ashes hauled?”

“Sure, lots of times,” Jason replied.

“Then that just leaves you, Parker. How about it? You going to get yourself a woman tonight?”

“I don't know,” Parker said.

“What's there not to know? Clay did tell you to go into town and have a good time, didn't he? I believe he even said it would be good for you. Haven't you ever even thought about it?”

Parker couldn't say that he had never thought about it, because he had thought about it, many times. And, he noticed, such thoughts seemed to creep into his mind with more frequency of late. But he had never actually considered contracting the services of a prostitute.

On the other hand, he certainly knew that it was something men did. And, it was a surefire way to accomplish that objective. He recalled the two women who had accosted him back in Independence. What is it they asked him about wanting to “see the varmint?”

Parker smiled.

“All right,” he said. “I'll go see the varmint.”

“Now you're talkin'!” Jason said enthusiastically.

“What kind of woman do you like, Parker?” Tobin asked.

“I don't know, I never stopped to think about it. I mean, a woman is a woman, isn't she?”

“No, a woman ain't just a woman,” Tobin said. “There's all different kinds. I don't know, maybe you ought to let me pick out this first one for you. I mean, seein' as you ain't never done it before, you're liable to make a mistake your first time in the saddle. And somethin' like that could mess you up good from now on. They say that's what makes some men not do too good with women. So, how about it? You want me to pick one out for you?”

“No, thank you. I'll pick out my own. If I'm going to make a mistake, it'll be my own.”

“All right, all right, have it your own way,” Tobin said, holding up his hand in surrender. “I was just tryin' to be of some help, is all.”

“Hey, let's ask that fella over there where we can find a whorehouse,” Jason suggested, pointing to a man standing on the corner. The man was wearing a three-piece suit, and a gold watch chain stretched across his vest. When all four approached him, he looked at them with some apprehension.

“Is there something I can do for you gentlemen?” he asked a little nervously.

“Yes,” Jason asked. “Where at's the whorehouse in this town?”

“I beg your pardon?” the man responded, a shocked look on his face.

“The whorehouse. Where's it at?”

“I assure you, gentlemen, if there is such an establishment, I am not a habitué,” the man replied. Drawing his jacket together indignantly, he walked away quickly to put some distance between himself and the four men.

“Well, hell, mister, you don't have to get into a piss soup about it,” Jason called after him.

The others laughed loudly.

“Jason, I have to hand it to you,” Pecorino said. “You've got a real way with strangers.”

“What the hell is a habitué?” Jason asked.

“Damned if I know,” Pecorino said.

“Yeah, well, if that fella ain't one, whatever it is, it's probably somethin' I'd like to be,” Jason said.

“Why don't we find us a saloon?” Tobin suggested. “We could maybe get us a drink or two, then find out where's the best place to eat. And I'm sure the folks at the saloon will know where the whorehouse is at.”

“Good idea,” Pecorino agreed.

When they came across a tavern a short while later, they paused out front to give it a quiet assessment. Then they pushed through the bat-wing doors and strode up to the bar, catching the bartender's eye.

“Parker, I don't want to embarrass you or anything in here, so, what'll it be? Beer or sarsaparilla?” Tobin asked.

Parker thought for a moment. He had tried beer before, and he didn't particularly like the taste, whereas he did like the taste of sarsaparilla. On the other hand, if he actually was going to go through this thing tonight, then beer seemed to be a more apt choice.

“I'll have a beer,” he said.

“Good man,” Tobin said.

After ordering beers for each of them, Tobin asked the bartender where they might find a whorehouse.

“Ain't nothin' exactly like that in Pueblo,” the bartender replied. He pointed toward the stairs. “But we got a top floor here with private rooms and beds, and half a dozen whores that look as good as any you're goin' to find in one of them fancy places. I'm sure you will find them most satisfactory.”

“All right, we'll give 'em a try. After we've had a good supper. Know any good places to eat?” Tobin asked.

“Sure—the City Café, just down the street,” the bartender answered. As he spoke, he saw Parker take a sip of his beer, then make a face. He looked at Parker and then at Jason as if just noticing them for the first time.

“Have we suddenly turned green?” Jason asked the bartender. “What are you looking at?”

The bartender didn't answer Jason, but spoke instead to Tobin. “These here boys is just pups,” he said, indicating Jason and Parker. “They're kinda young to be runnin' with you two, ain't they?”

Jason's eyes narrowed. “Mister, you got somethin' to say about me or my friend, you say it to us directly.”

“All right, I'm tellin' you, I think you boys are still a little too wet behind the ears to be in here.”

Jason took another swallow of his beer before he answered. “You know, I heard there was lots of young fellas no older'n my friend and me, killin' and dyin' in the late war. If it was to come down to that again, do you think we would be old enough to die? Or, let me put it this way.” He leaned across the bar and said, in a cold, menacing voice, “Do you think we're old enough to kill?”

“Yes, I suppose you are,” the bartender replied, unexpectedly intimidated by Jason's demeanor.

“Then, how old do we have to be to get a drink and a woman?” Jason asked.

“You're old enough, I reckon,” the bartender mumbled.

“I'm glad you see it our way,” Jason said, easing back onto his stool.

“Listen,” Tobin said. “Me an' my friends is goin' out to get somethin' to eat now. Then we're goin' to come back for some serious drinking, and to make a run on them whores. Don't you let them get away.”

“Oh, don't worry none about that. They're goin' to be here all night.”

“So are we, mister. So are we,” Tobin said.

The four left the saloon and strode a few doors down to the City Café. Their orders came quickly, but while Pecorino, Tobin, and Jason wolfed down their meals, Parker merely picked at his food.

“You plannin' on eatin' the rest of them taters?” Tobin asked Parker. When Parker shook his head no, Tobin took Parker's plate and shoveled the uneaten potatoes onto his own. Tobin had spent the whole meal instructing Parker on the proper techniques of “whoring,” as he called it. He was now telling him, “You're probably figuring you should have yourself a real young whore, maybe someone about your own age. But if you was to do that, you'd be makin' a big mistake.”

“Why would that be a mistake?” Parker asked.

“Because if she's that young, she wouldn't be knowin' a whole lot more about it than you,” Tobin explained. “What you need is to find yourself the oldest one in the place. See, that way, there ain' no kind of way she ain' never been rode, an' no kind of man she ain't never throwed. Besides which, the older the whores get, the younger they like their men. An old whore would be a real good one for breakin' you in.”

Pecorino laughed. “Tobin, you're as full of shit as a Christmas goose, you know that? Don't go listening to him, Parker. He's just tryin' to make sure he gets the youngest and prettiest one for himself. By the way, you goin' to eat the rest of your steak?”

Without answering, Parker forked the rest of his steak off his plate and onto Pecorino's.

“You're wrong, Frank. I for sure don't want the prettiest one,” Tobin said. “You see, that's another thing about whores. The prettiest ones, now, they think their good looks is all they need. What you want to do is get you one that's just a little bit ugly. Most of them that's ugly know they're ugly, so they'll kind of go out of their way to treat you right.” Tobin cut off a piece of his steak and chewed it thoughtfully for a moment before he continued with his lecture. “Of course, every now and again you're likely to get you one who's ugly, but she don't
know
she's ugly. Now, them's the worst kind, 'cause they figure they're pretty enough for looks to get them by, and they don't try none at all. An ugly woman that thinks she's pretty and don't try . . . well, you sure don't want that kind of whore if you can help it.”

“Tobin, it's too bad you can't write,” Pecorino teased. “Hell, I'll bet there ain't nobody in the country knows as much about chasin' whores as you do. You could do a fine book on the subject.”

“Well, now, I could write a book on it, an' that's a fact,” Tobin said. “If I could write,” he added.

Parker laughed, then put the uneaten portion of his apple pie on Jason's plate.

“Damn, boy, what's wrong with you?” Tobin asked. “You give me all your taters, Frank your steak, and Jason your pie. You feelin' all right?”

“Sure, I feel fine. I guess I'm just not hungry, is all,” Parker said.

Though he wouldn't tell the others, he had butterflies in his stomach, nervous just from thinking about being with a woman for the first time.

 

When they returned to the saloon after their meal, all the whores were working the tables for drinks, as the bartender told them that none of the women could go upstairs before eight.

“Well, then, we'll just sit over at that table there and have us a few drinks while we're waitin',” Pecorino said.

The bartender chuckled. “Yes,” he said. “That's the whole idea.”

As they waited, Parker watched the women work the customers and made up his mind which one of them he wanted. In fact, he made up his mind that if he didn't get her, he wasn't going to go upstairs at all.

Though none of them looked under thirty, the one he picked out seemed to have a softer smile and a gentler disposition than the others. Somehow she seemed less threatening to him. He had heard one of the men call her Penny.

“I want Penny,” he said to the others. It was the first comment he had made in several minutes.

“Penny?” Tobin replied. He twisted around in his chair and looked at the women. “Which one's Penny?”

At that moment, Penny was sitting in the lap of a big, bearded man, twisting the hair of his beard around her fingers. When Parker pointed her out, Tobin nodded. “She looks like she might be a good one for you. Which one do you want, Jason?”

“The one in the green dress,” Jason answered.

Tobin looked at the girl Jason pointed out, then back at him. “You sure? Damn, look how skinny she is. Doin' her would be like pokin' it through a knothole in a board.”

“Maybe so, but that's the one I want,” Jason insisted.

“You got one picked out, Frank?”

“That's the one I want.” Pecorino pointed to an exotic-looking, dark-haired, Mexican girl.

“Yeah, she's a pretty one, all right. But I want the one in blue. You know, if a fella was to fall down the front of her dress he'd like as not smother before he could get hisself excavated.”

At eight o'clock, the woman in blue came over to the table where the four men had been sitting patiently for just over an hour. Putting a hand on her hip and thrusting it out provocatively, she leaned over the table. “Roy says you fellas want some company tonight.”

“You said it, honey,” Tobin replied.

The woman straightened up. “First, we must get the unpleasant business of money out of the way. Our company will cost you gentlemen a dollar and a half, each, or three dollars apiece for the whole night.”