Hell's Belle (28 page)

So he really didn't
care that Twila's husband had reclaimed the horse he'd left hitched out front.
Or that the Mitchells were going home to Wadsworth without him. He'd be
returning in a day or two, far better off than when he left there. Fletcher
Bell would sit up and take notice of his son's talents then, by God.

The man seated directly
across from Lucius folded. The fellow to that one's right decided to raise.
Lucius grinned and was anticipating how much higher he'd hike the stakes when
the front door opened to admit Plague and Pestilence, the two Englishmen who'd
been dogging Lucius. It couldn't be pure coincidence that they' turned up first
in Wadsworth, and now in Sacramento. They'd obviously followed him…Dammit!

He was mentally
scrambling to figure out how to elude them when the madam intervened, her plump
figure blocking the view the newcomers would have of Lucius' poker table. It
was enough, just barely enough, to allow him to slink down in his chair and
play out his hand, winning the pot once again.

"You're doing
terribly well for yourself tonight," one of the losers grumbled.

"Well, I'd
been losing all last week. I'm afraid I'll have to wish the rest of you good
fortune and be on my way, though," Lucius replied, scooping up folded
notes along with gold and silver coins. He slipped away from the gaming area
toward the back exit, and was just exhaling the breath he'd been holding when
the madam's burly "assistant" seized the back of his collar.

"Hey! Front
door's thataway. You wouldn't be trying to sneak out without paying for your
drinks, now would ya?"

"I paid for
the rum I had earlier. And I was actually enjoying a bit of luck with the
cards, but Miss Adeline has just taken up with a pair of no-accounts I
recognize from…a previous association. I'd rather not get into another
political debate with them…if you take my meaning."

This seemed to
flummox the big man. He chewed his cigar from one corner of his mouth across to
the other. "You don't want to trade insults. That it?"

Lucius nodded.
"They'll start trouble if they catch sight of me."

"Hmph. Still,
Addy don't like men sneaking out the back. You'll need to go out the front
entrance once they take seats at a table or go upstairs with some of the girls.
Course now…" More cigar chewing and repositioning. Lucius wished the brute
would hurry and reach whatever brilliant conclusion was coming. His collar was
already half frayed.

The big man's face
split into an ugly grin. Considering that most of his teeth matched the coloration
of the cigar, it could fairly be termed a ghastly grin. "Why don't you
give me some of that money you won, and I'll make sure they goes upstairs with
some girls?"

Lucius would pay
for those bounders to have some sport? Not very reasonable. But then he had his
own flash of brilliance. He remembered the harlot back at home who'd showed him
a few interesting variations to basic coitus. She'd described several others.
Rather appalling activities. Which might indeed be worth paying for…He fished
into his trouser pocket, grabbed some cash and shoved it at the big fellow.

"Their names
are Cookson and Marquardt. They're English blokes, with tastes that run to the,
er…
eccentric
."

The big man
released Lucius' shirt collar as he began counting out the money. "We
don't got that here. Candles and gas lights."

"Not
electric
,"
Lucius clarified. Why had they ever left Omaha? "I meant strange."

This brought no
glimmer of recognition. Lucius took a deep breath. "You know, peculiar.
The sort of things maybe not all the girls might be willing to do. Smothering,
domination, discipline. Tools and accessories beyond a mattress."

Now the brute
grunted, nodding. "We got a couple gals who specialize in weird. Big
busted thing, for the man who likes his pulse pounding and air cut off. A
little slip of a gal who's got a whip up in her room, some wrist restraints.
That's what they'd be after?"

"My treat and
a peaceable exit. They can enjoy themselves. I'll be on my way." Lucius
dug in another pocket, pulled out a couple of ten-dollar gold pieces.
"Here are two eagles, besides what I gave you there. Get them upstairs and
occupied. Give me the high sign when the coast is clear, and I'll waltz out the
front, pretty as the madam pleases."

* * *

"Cecil, isn't
that the Bell imbecile over there?" Marquardt tried to nudge his friend,
but it was difficult with the voluptuous proprietress sandwiched between them.
"In the back hallway yonder. That him?"

The woman heard and
squinted, peering through the smoky gloom. "That's my man over there,
Knutsen."

"No, the other—that's
odd."

"What
is?" Now Cookson seemed to realize a bit of nonsense was taking place. He
strained to look over the madam's powdered white shoulder.

"I thought I
saw that young bounder with the large fellow. Perhaps he's gone to the privy
round back, and—"

"Addy! Listen
to this!" At that very second, the large man she'd called Knutsen rushed
over and began whispering excitedly in her ear.

"I say,"
Cookson said. "Maybe we should just have a look about." He tried to
pull free of the woman's restraining hand on his arm, but the madam would have
none of it.

She beamed at them
both. "Oh, my! You gents are having a time of it at Miss Adeline's
tonight! Your young friend has purchased an evening of decadent delight for you
both. Now come along! We can't dawdle. It's all I can do to keep Melissandra
and Tweak free for a couple of hours. They're that much in demand. But luck for
you it's early."

"Who are—wait
a moment! I say, we're not—Cookson, do something!"

But protesting was
a complete waste of time, as the burly house employee began pushing them toward
the staircase even as the madam began caterwauling at the top of her
substantial lungs for a pair of harlots from abovestairs. Before Marquardt or
Cookson could do anything to prevent it, they found themselves ushered to the
long hallway at the top of the staircase. Another muscular fellow joined the
throng bustling them away from the ground floor gaming area.

Melissandra turned
out to be a most substantial woman, who quickly drew Cookson into her boudoir,
slamming the door behind them. Marquardt tried to protest again to his
benefactor that this kind of amusement truly was unnecessary, that they'd only
come in for a couple of drinks. But the two men grabbed his arms and took him to
the end of the hall. To the last little room, occupied by the girl they called
Tweak.

Once she'd had the
men strip him and chain his wrists to the dangling manacles suspended from her
ceiling, he found out how she'd earned her nickname. He howled and flinched and
pleaded that there had been a terrible misunderstanding. She assured him that
if anyone could "straighten things out,"
she
could.

Marquardt's nose
burned, verifying his suspicions. Young Lucius Bell was responsible for this.And
he had means…clearly enough means to pay for this ridiculous misadventure and
then some. When they got out of here—several other parts of Marquardt's anatomy
began stinging and burning, too. As though he were being flayed alive. He
howled and Tweak just smiled and plied her little whip again, to a new spot.

Damn that insolent
snot, Bell! He'd regret his jolly jest. Oh, indeed he would! They'd find him
again and make him pay. Dearly.

* * *

Twila roused and
glanced around. Night was fast approaching. Del slowed the buggy and veered off
the main roadway. "Where are you going?" she asked with a slight
yawn.

"Be dark soon.
There's a logging camp up this path. Sold the men some horses couple years ago.
We can probably borrow a tent or cabin for the night. Feeling any better?"

Thank goodness it
was already gloomy out and her face was obscured by the shadows of the buggy's
top. Twila had never been much good at prevaricating. Especially with Del, the
man who could look right through her.

"I'm all
right," she replied without gazing at him. He grunted and leaned forward
as the trail narrowed.

Twila hadn't spoken
but a few sentences the entire time they'd been traveling that afternoon. She'd
let poor Hilde serve as a buffer at the Vogel house, never argued when Del
abruptly stated he'd come to fetch his wife and they were setting out for home,
even though it was already well into the afternoon. Manus Vogel tried to
protest about the lateness of the hour, but Del was implacable. Even Hilde's
worry that Twila might not be well enough to make a long carriage ride fell on
deaf ears.

Twila knew she
wasn't physically unwell so much as she was plain heartsick. But putting off
their return to the ranch and the reckoning that was sure to follow wouldn't
serve much purpose. Del was a straightforward, direct sort of man. Sooner or
later they would have to face reality. She didn't feel comfortable imposing on
the Vogels any longer—particularly if she and Del were to have a serious
discussion about their future and that of their child.

Somehow Twila hadn't
been able to make herself broach the subject once they'd set off with Del's
palomino tied behind the rig. Just the two of them, bouncing along with no one
around to overhear…it should have provided the perfect opportunity to tell him
she'd seen him with that other woman. The one who clearly was still in love
with him. The one he'd truly wanted to wed. Twila should have found the
gumption to at least mention the encounter and see how he reacted.

But she knew how
she'd
react if he told her he harbored misgivings about their future together, if he
realized he might have made a mistake.

Even though she
mentally wagered he'd never do that. Not now, with Twila expecting his child.
Maybe once she held the babe in her arms and he'd figured out some kind of settlement.
Del would never outright abandon Twila and a child. Not technically, at any
rate. But emotionally? She wasn't so certain.

Tears threatened as
she considered what emotional abandonment would mean. She remembered only too
well the profound change in him when Jordan died. She'd seen him withdraw into
himself, into a hollow shell. Become somber and taciturn. She didn't know if she
could live like that.

No more warm
evenings of silence and smiles by the fire. No more coming together as man and
wife in his bed. He'd probably take to sleeping in the front room on the settee
until he could add another room onto the house. No one would think it the least
odd. After all, they were soon to be a family. The hands would all assume the
new bedroom would be for Del's son or daughter.

Twila caught a sob
and choked it back.

"Twilagleam,
what is it, honey?" Del nudged her chin up with his hand and searched her
eyes. "You don't look so hot. Good thing that's the camp just ahead there.
Hang on, sweetheart."

He jammed on the
brake and swung down from the buggy, nodding to the first man Twila spotted
nearby. He pointed off through the trees, and Del disappeared. Twila had just
begun to feel edgy and nervous when he came back, his taut features more
relaxed now as he held out a hand to help her down.

"Come on.
They've got a little cabin we can borrow for the night. Anderson's going to
take care of the horses. I'm going to get you inside and get a fire going. Then
we'll see about some vittles. Think you can eat anything now? You probably
shouldn't go without supper. How's your stomach doing?"

Twila stared at him
in confusion. Suddenly he'd become a magpie. After miles of stony silence.
"I'm a little hungry. Mostly stiff from riding so long."

"Me too, but
we'll be able to stretch and warm ourselves. There you are."

He guided her to a
small porch and through the door into a one-room shack. The place was at least
swept clean, if somewhat dingy and depressing. But Twila realized that
impression came mostly from the fact that night dropped like a big gray stone
in the mountains. One minute there was a hint of long shadows and fading
sunlight. The next, it was dark. No lingering dusk in between.

And the chill came
on just as quickly. She shivered involuntarily.

"Never you
mind, Mrs. Mitchell," Del chuckled. He plunked her down on the edge of a
surprisingly sturdy wooden cot, then knelt to begin stacking thin logs on the
cold grate. "I'll get this place warmed up. Want some hot milk, maybe some
stew or biscuits? I'm fearful hungry myself, all of a sudden."

Somehow she endured
his cheerfulness as he got the fire blazing and went to the door to accept a
tray of food and drink. "Those must be some fine horses you sold
them," she remarked. "Everyone here's very friendly and accommodating
toward you."

"Yeah,"
he nodded, finally taking off his hat and ruffling his hair with one hand even
as the other began tugging at his left boot. "I've sold them work horses
and riding mounts. Couple of times over the years. Good business to keep your
supplier happy when he comes by."