Payton's Woman (27 page)

White muslin curtains
hung across a window. She opened it and looked out. Night approached, but it
was still dusk. The twilight provided enough illumination to see the alleyway
below. Her room set two floors up. Jumping from the window wouldn’t be an option.
She stuck her head farther out the opening and looked at the side of the
building. The brick structure didn’t have a ledge to crawl on. Even if she
could get a toe hold in the mortared joints, she didn’t possess Payton’s skill
of climbing.

Figuring out how to
escape this room presented half the task. Having the ability to follow through would
be equally important. Her seasickness had subsided. Food and drink would
revitalize her, but she needed time to recover.

After closing the window,
she took a seat in the only chair in the room. She would devise a plan while
she waited for her strength to return.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Payton hoped his
patience would soon be rewarded. He leaned against the side of the stone
building, his body hidden in the deep shadows so he wouldn’t be detected. His
black clothing helped him blend in with the night.

Across the street set
the California Telegraph Company. A moment ago he’d spotted a man go inside. His
height and build matched that of Dunbar, but he didn’t display a noticeable
limp when he walked. Before Payton made his move, he needed to be certain of the
man’s identity.

City Hall, which housed
the police department, stood nearby. He considered getting an officer, or two,
to help in apprehending him but decided against it. If Dunbar saw anyone who
resembled a lawman, he’d bolt. If cornered, there’d be gunplay. Payton would go
it alone and wait for the right time to take him down.

Gas streetlights
illuminated this part of town. When the man emerged from the telegraph office,
his face shone in the light. Lawrence Dunbar stood beneath the street lamp, a piece
of paper in his hand. After a moment, he scrunched it up in his fist and tossed
it toward the gutter. He made his way down the walk, his pace slow, his
movement labored.

Payton let him get about
half a block away before he crossed the street. He picked up the crumpled paper
and smoothed it out. Moving closer to the streetlight, he held the paper so he
could see. In clear, crisp handwriting the contents read:

Gone to San Francisco
stop

Pay Ritter stop

Return next week stop

Payton didn’t know who sent
the telegram, but the person didn’t waste money with extra words.

From the scowl on Dunbar’s
face when he stood under the lamp, the information in the telegram didn’t
please him.

Payton followed him. The
farther they walked, the more Dunbar limped. The direction they traveled took them
through the middle of the Barbary Coast. Crowds of people swarmed up and down
the boarded walks unconcerned with the dangers lurking around them.

For this part of town, the
evening was early. Farm hands straight from the fields and miners down from
their digs laughed and searched about for a good time. Later, when they were
good and drunk, many of them would be lured into the gambling halls, or
deadfalls to be stripped of their money. A few unlucky men might wake up in the
morning to find they’d been Shanghaied—pressed into service aboard a ship bound
for a destination half way around the world.

When Dunbar went into a
tavern, Payton waited outside. Through the window, he watched him indicate with
his hands the height and build of a man. He knew by the gestures Dunbar searched
for Ritter, but that knowledge didn’t concern him. He knew where Ritter hid. He
also knew his whereabouts at this moment. They were supposed to meet about now
in a tavern at the far end of the Barbary Coast. Dunbar had a lot of walking to
do if he intended to find Ritter tonight.

Half a dozen taverns
later, Dunbar evidently found the information he sought. He left the tavern at
a quick and awkward pace, and headed up the street. He didn’t stop until he
reached the lodging house where Ritter spent his nights.

After Dunbar went
inside, Payton walked to the opposite side of the street. He found a place in
an alleyway where he wouldn’t be seen. Empty wooden crates littered the alley.
He pushed one against the side of the building and took a seat. With a long
wait ahead, he might as well be comfortable.

The fog hadn’t rolled in
yet, and he had a clear view of the street as well as the entrance to the
lodging house and could observe the coming and going of everyone on the entire block.
The way he figured it, Dunbar would hide in Ritter’s room and wait for his
return. Then he would end their partnership in the way the man had feared. A
twinge of guilt tugged at his conscious; he should probably warn Ritter that
Dunbar waited inside.

He thought about going into
the lodging house to get Dunbar before Ritter showed up, but that would be a
big mistake—at least for Payton. Dunbar would be on his guard for someone entering
the room. The first man in would be at a disadvantage.

Payton would wait until
Ritter went to his room. If he followed after him quickly, he might prevent him
from being killed. When the two men were together in the room, a fight would undoubtedly
break out. In the confusion, Payton could take them both.

****

As Julia paced over the hardwood
floor, her legs grew stronger and the throbbing in her head subsided. The small
meal she’d consumed earlier settled her nausea, but nerves knotted her stomach.
She had to get away from here before the night got any later. She didn’t know
how long Betsy would wait before she proceeded with her plan to use her as bait
to lure Payton into danger.

Once she managed to
escape from the Crystal Palace, she could make her way to Union Square. But she
didn’t know where to find Payton. And she didn’t know how to contact him so she
could warn him about Betsy.

The bottle green outfit
she’d worn lay strewn across the bed along with the crinoline she’d worn beneath
it. She had changed into a simple dark blue cotton gown with only one petticoat
fastened beneath. Fashion might dictate three, but she needed to travel quickly.
She didn’t want multiple layers of material tangling around her legs.

The clothing Betsy brought
for her to wear were packed in trunks and stowed elsewhere. Julia’s carpet covered
bag with her personal items sat on the foot of the bed. Her bag contained
nothing that couldn’t be replaced. Her nightgown, hair brush, and lotion for
her skin would be left behind. She’d have to travel light and didn’t want
anything bulky slowing her down.

She removed the extra
money she’d hidden inside the carpetbag and dropped it into her reticule. After
pulling the drawstrings closed, she slipped it onto her wrist. Her cloak draped
around her shoulders. She fastened the button at her throat to secure it in
place.

Carefully, she opened the
bedroom door. Music and laughter drifted up from the floor below. Two women
stood in the hallway taking with each other. Their faces were painted and
powdered. All they wore were undergarments beneath colorful robes that were
untied in the front. They each wore a corset over a chemise that was cinched up
tight, forcing their bosoms to spill over the top edges.

They gave her a curious
glance but didn’t question her appearance at the bedroom door. She continued
with her exit to the stairway. As she descended the steps, she heard voices,
but none sounded like Betsy’s.

Her pace slowed when she
reached the door at the foot of the staircase. The guard would be on the other
side. She wanted to appear nonchalant when she stepped into the entryway, as if
she had every right to walk out the front door.

A few men dressed in
evening attire milled around the double doors and distracted the guard. She
almost made it to the front entrance when he stepped into her path and blocked
her escape.

“Mrs. Dunbar said you
might be down.” He grabbed her arm. “She wants to see you.”

The guard’s grip on her
arm bordered on painful. He pulled her with him through the side door and along
the corridor that went past the staircase. He knocked on the door at the rear
of the building.

Betsy’s voice bid them
enter.

“She was trying to leave
just like you said she would.”

“Sit down.” She motioned
to a chair by the desk.

Julia complied. Her
strength had returned, but she couldn’t fight them both.

Betsy nodded her head, indicating
the guard to leave. Her gaze returned to Julia.

“Were you going
somewhere?” she asked in a sneering tone.

“I don’t want to be
here.” She tried to soften her reply so her tone didn’t sound like a demand and
pressed what she hoped was an innocent expression on her face. “It’s not proper
for me to be here. I should go to a hotel.”

“A hotel, my ass. You’re
not going anywhere.” She picked up the silver case that contained rolled
cigarettes. “I have plans for you.”

“What kind of plans?” she
asked although she already suspected.

“You’ll find out.”

Without speaking, Julia
glanced around the room. This appeared to be an office. Betsy sat behind a large
oak desk. A few wooden chairs, which looked purely functional, were scattered about.
A cabinet set against the wall. Liquor bottles and glasses littered the top. The
single window in the room was opened partway to let in fresh air. This room set
on the ground floor, and the window looked big enough to easily crawl through.

Her mind envisioned a simple
escape. She’d let Betsy think she’d become compliant. Once she put the woman’s
mind at ease, she’d pretend her nausea had returned. She’d open the window, but
instead of throwing up, she’d jump out the window and leave.

With Betsy’s injured
knee, it would take a few moments for her to summon the guard and send him
after her.

She prepared to put her
plan into action, but the guard’s tap at the door stopped her. Without waiting
for a reply, he stuck his head through the open doorway, although he didn’t
enter the room. “He’s here.”

Her breath caught in her
throat. Had Payton been summoned here already? Was Betsy about to execute her
threat of putting a bullet in his brain? He had to be warned. Her fingertips
pressed against her temples while she thought. Whatever happened, she couldn’t sit
idly by and watch him be murdered.

“Show him in.”

“Will you need any help?”
the guard asked.

“No, I’ll deal with him
myself.” Betsy snuffed out the cigarette in a small dish. “Do you have a gun I
can use?”

“Sure do. Center drawer.”
He nodded his head toward the desk just before he closed the door.

Julia leaped from the
chair. Wildly, her gaze darted around the room for a weapon of her own. If
Payton walked in and saw her, she would be the distraction Betsy needed. Then she
could reach into the center drawer. He wouldn’t notice the gun in her hand
until too late. Payton would be dead, and it would be her fault.

The door opened without
the guard’s announcement. He shoved a man into the room and pulled the door closed
behind him. A besotted looking little man stood alone in front of the desk
where Betsy sat.

When she saw he wasn’t
Payton, she released her held breath. Her frayed nerves shuddered with relief. Her
body hovered on the verge of collapse. She grabbed the back of a chair for
support.

“Are you Ritter?”

“Do you have my money?”

“Your money? I though
the money was for Larry.”

“It is.” His quick answer
indicated he lied.

“Where is he?” Betsy
asked

“I can’t tell you. He
doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“You can’t tell me? His
own mother?”

Her voice carried an
innocent tone, but Julia knew how deceptive she could be.

“He thinks you’re being
watched,” Ritter said. “He’s afraid you’ll be followed if you come to him. That’s
why he wants me to take the money to him.”

“Why would I be
followed? No one knows Larry is in town except for you.”

Neither spoke for a moment.
Finally, Ritter seemed to get up his nerve. “Give me the money,” he demanded.

“First I want to know
how my son is,” she demanded back. Her voice changed. She reverted to her
innocent tone. “Is he well?”

“Well enough.”

“Oh?” she sounded
surprised. “Is he under the weather?”

“Didn’t you know he was
shot?”

“Where was he shot?”

“In Mexico when he tried
to take over a ship.”

“I mean,” she said in an
aggravated tone, “what part of his body?”

“His leg.”

“Which leg?”

Ritter put both hands to
his thighs. He paused for a moment as though to think. “This one. His left leg.”

“At least you know that
much.”

“I know plenty. Now give
me the money.”

Her head cocked to one
side. “And just what do you think you know?”

“The whole scheme is
coming undone.”

“What scheme?”

“You know what I’m talking
about. I’m not going to hang for this. I’m shipping out tonight right after I
get my things.”

“What about Larry?”

“He’ll have to look to himself.
If he shows his face in San Francisco, Tyler will have him.”

“What?” She came out of her
chair. “Do you mean Payton Tyler?”

He nodded. “I ran into
him the other night. I didn’t know who he was at first, but the next day I remembered.
He’s on the hunt for Dunbar. He’s bound and determined to get him.”

“What does Tyler want
with Larry?” she shouted.

“My guess would be his
body swinging from a yardarm. It was Tyler’s ship we boarded. And Tyler’s the
one who shot him.”

A string of profanities
spewed from her mouth. “I’ll kill the bastard.”

“Not if he kills us first.
I’m getting the hell out of here.”