Deed to Damnation

Inconvenient Truths

Henry Delarue sat in an upscale saloon in Black Rock, a tumbler of whiskey and the stack of letters he had recently received on the table in front of him. He was alone and waiting on his contact to explain in more detail about what was in those letters. Leaving Ireland back in Solstice had been a difficult decision. He wondered if maybe she would run since he had loosened the supervision on her a bit.
She had done well in her first week as mistress, making the deposits exactly as he had instructed and Ernie Chambers oversaw the ledgers to make sure they matched his. As far as the patrons were concerned, she had broken up a fight between two sots with her charm and diplomacy, offering a round of free drinks and employing Missy to sweet talk them both as Ireland herself poured them. And he had watched her, smiling with her painted lips and teasing glances. For a woman who had no experience in the ways of dealing with men, she certainly learned quickly. But he supposed it was an innate capability that all of the feminine persuasion shared and there were always suckers to fall hard for it. She had made easy work of them and they had settled down, even managing a handshake afterwards. He had been proud of her but he didn't like the ease in the way she flirted and the men's reaction to it had made him agitated. He wasn't too happy with himself for feeling that way either. But he also knew that was exactly what a house mistress was supposed to do. Maybe he was just a hair away from being one of those suckers he had just thought of. He grimaced at the idea and slammed back a hefty shot.
"Good day, Henry."
It was Andrew Christel, his go to contact and information collector. He removed his bowler hat and tossed it on the table before pulling out his chair and taking a seat. Mr. Christel was a disbarred attorney from New York but no amount of corruption had soured any of his relationships with powerful people and he had a way of finding things out that impressed Henry. If he needed someone tracked, it was Andrew he called on and usually he got an answer within weeks. So when he decided he wanted even more information on the Devereaux family, he wired Andrew to dig it up. But when his inquiry was answered, there was more in the response than his wife's history and the news wasn't good.
"Before we get to business..."
Henry didn't wait for Andrew to finish. He knew what he was going to say and reached in his pocket for the fee they both agreed upon. Christel was no fool and dangerous in his own right although by looking at him, no one would guess. This short, portly, bespectacled man didn't need to do his own dirty work. He had hunter killers for that and Henry himself had been one of those a half a dozen times in the past. Besides, he didn't mind doling out cash to him because the job always got done.
"Pleasure doing business, Henry." He said, opening his briefcase and slipping the money in. "So what do you want to talk about first?"
"The hills, Andrew." Henry said gruffly. "Your letters were rather cryptic,"
"Of course they were." He replied. "I assumed you wanted your little venture to be kept quiet and I didn't want any information leaked if they fell into the wrong hands. It wouldn't do either of us any good, would it?"
"Just get to it, Andy." Henry answered impatiently.
Andrew ordered a red wine from the barmaid and waited until she was out of earshot before he began.
"It seems the government has made a bit of an error and your stake on the property you just acquired is in jeopardy. They'll be coming for it and any Indian tribe that's standing in their way. They're realizing they made a mistake designating that area as a reservation." He explained quietly. "I'm sure at first they thought it would be the easiest route since the Sioux and Cheyenne dug in their heels over that land and refused to relocate to Colorado like the others. The rumor of gold is spreading."
Leave it to the United States government to backpedal, Henry thought bitterly. They were willing to corral the threat until they realized they were about to build that corral on a piece of land that was suddenly very valuable.
"It's the worst kept secret among the elite." Andrew continued. "Look around you, Henry. Do you think these wealthy codgers drinking in this room with us are here because Black Rock is a swanky hangout?"
Henry surveyed the surroundings. There certainly were a lot of tweed suits and gold timepieces to be seen with their finely dressed women on their arms. Solstice had seen them as they passed through, undoubtedly eyeing up the little town as a temporary asset.
"How long?" He asked.
"The land buying conventions have already begun." Andrew answered. "Black Rock is just one town holding them. I don't know how long before the military is set to move in."
Henry scowled. Once that happened there would be a rush on the area. The wealthy would be buying up parcels of land and even if he fought for his piece, it would mean population and competition, not to mention taxes and rules. Those ramifications represented everything he hated most. They were the main reasons he found his way out here.
"Are you saying the tribes and the government have been negotiating?" Henry inquired.
"Just recently from what I understand. I have it on good authority they were on the brink of a deal." Andrew replied. "I imagine the natives aren't going to be too happy."
"They're not going to tell them." Henry murmured, more to himself than his cohort.
If Henry knew anything, he knew governmental and military procedure.
"So you could do one of two things." Andrew pointed out. "You could fortify the natives even more than you already have and tell them of the inevitable and hope for the best. Or, you could go in, take what you're able to pan and get out before the shit goes down. The last place you and yours want to be is in the middle of a slaughter."
Christel was right. Without the heads up, the Sioux and the Cheyenne would get slaughtered. The natives were mostly honorable and Howling Star was a noble and fair leader above and beyond. He would accept a deal that he considered equitable on a simple handshake or the toke of a peace pipe. Things like that meant something to the chief. Unfortunately for him, the government wouldn't blink an eye at breaking those bonds whenever it suited them.
"Do you know who they assigned to lead the attack?" He asked.
Andrew just shook his head in response and not just because he didn't have that information. He knew by the question that Henry had no plans to give up what he had started. And in Andy's opinion, it was reckless but he wasn't surprised. He just sat back and slapped his knees in frustrated worry.
"I'll see what I can do about more gun runners, Henry. But it's going to cost you. There's been heat on weapons smuggling as of late. There's a heavy bounty on runners." He warned.
"Any extra help in this matter is appreciated." Henry responded. "I'm guessing they'll make their move after winter. It wouldn't be wise having men freezing in the harsh season, especially in the Dakotas. In my experience, they could but I doubt they will."
Finally, the barmaid returned with Andrew's drink and she shot an inviting smile at Henry.
"Would you like another bourbon?" She offered.
Henry didn't hide his appraisal of the woman as she stood there, dressed in a ruby red cabaret costume trimmed in black lace. Her large brimmed, plumed hat sat on a pile of auburn ringlets that grazed her bare shoulders.
"Yes." He accepted. "Will you be taking the stage tonight?"
She giggled.
"You should stick around and find out, mister."
The barmaid left to retrieve his order, swaying her hips and giving both of the men a good long look at what she had to offer.
"I think she likes you." Andrew commented, admiring her curvaceous form. "And you're a married man now according to your letters. Strictly for convenience, you said."
Henry grimaced.
" I did come here to discuss my wife but not in that regard." He growled.
"Yes." Andrew replied, reopening his briefcase and retrieving a notepad. "It took me a while but I was able to drag up some limited information. I have to tell you, it is quite scandalous."
The last time Henry had met with Andrew it was to learn more about Shawn Devereaux and his illicit dealings and whether he owned any other property that could be claimed. There was no property or bank accounts, just a long list of unpaid debts and broken promises. And while Henry had once told Ireland his assumptions on why her father had dragged her west, he had only been half right. There was no doubt he did it to get her away from the city wolves waiting to devour his flowering daughter but there was more to it than that. Apparently, he was running away from more than debt collectors and the wealthy New Yorkers he scammed.
"Your wife's mother's name was Amberlyn O'Malley and she was a high priced courtesan." Andrew informed him.
Henry had always been able to reign in his reactions, especially his facial expressions. It had served him well in tense moments and it kept foes guessing right up until the time he unloaded a bullet in their face. This time though, his eyes widened momentarily and his shoulders stiffened. It was the last thing he thought he would hear. Ireland's mother had been a whore? An expensive one but it was still shocking as hell. All the while he had pictured her like Ireland, pious and naive, taking things at face value without digging deeper. Apparently, that was the farthest from the truth.
Andrew reached into his attaché again and produced a photograph, sliding it across the table so Henry could see her image and even though there were others in the picture, he picked her out right away.
It looked as if it had been taken in a well appointed banquet hall or perhaps a rich man's ballroom. The woman was striking, dressed in a form fitting ball gown and her hair braided and tied away from face. Henry saw Ireland in her although he could not tell whether or not she shared his wife's copper tresses. She had the same mouth with full lips and a defined Cupid's bow and the same type of stature, somewhat tall and full breasted. She had light eyes, appearing white on the film, maybe the same pale green as her daughter's? But Amberlyn's features were softer, her cheeks rounder with a dimple and a button nose. Ireland's features were sharper. He had found her face almost feline, with slightly upturned eyes and high cheekbones.
"That was obviously before she crossed paths with Shawn Devereaux." Andrew stated.
"How so?" Henry asked, not taking his eyes from the photo.
"Because she's alive." Was the short response.
The barmaid brought drinks but this time Henry paid her no mind. Andrew Christel's investigation results were far too enthralling and true to the description, they were scandalous.
He learned that Amberlyn O'Malley was born in New York although there was no information on her parents. She was a well known courtesan that worked in the Tenderloin district, an area designated for the wealthy to find upscale prostitutes that would quench their desires. It was a place well known among the elite but never talked about. Of course the law turned a blind eye to that district because he who makes the money, makes the rules and there were plenty of kickbacks to the ones in high office to do so.
Andrew wasn't sure how Shawn Devereaux was introduced to her but it was likely through the circles he traveled in. He was not an elite like the Astors or the Vanderbilts but was a successful enough conman to worm his way into society, posing as someone important. According to sources, he portrayed himself as a railroad tycoon, knowing just enough to get by. But that all changed when he got Amberlyn pregnant.
"I was told she went to him after giving birth to her daughter and told him she was his. She wanted money to which Devereaux refused." Andrew continued. "I guess it all came to a head and Ms. O'Malley met an early demise when Ireland was two. He was always the likely suspect but there was no proof. And even as popular and enchanting as Amberlyn was, she was still just a whore that catered to the wealthy. They did not pursue an in-depth investigation."
"Then why take the child?" Henry asked skeptically.
Andrew shrugged.
"I shudder at his reasoning but I can assure you it wasn't because he wanted to be a father. Maybe he planned on selling her, who knows?"
Henry was a lot of things but he was no child killer. He didn't particularly like the little crumb snatchers but he would never harm one, especially a very young girl child. However, he knew men and the darkness that ran in some of them was pitch black and more evil than most womenfolk could ever imagine.
"Surprisingly, he was able to keep up the charade for years, investing people's money in the continental railroad that was currently being constructed." He continued. "Of course that was a scam. He sent Ireland to a private school for girls where she excelled. People were throwing money at him...until he had to pay up. One day he just disappeared." Andrew explained. "Believe me, the people I interviewed were very curious of his whereabouts. Many were either elated to hear of his passing or disappointed they didn't get to do it themselves."
It was a lot to take in and Henry found himself ordering a double of bourbon while Andrew wrapped up his findings. He barely heard the man speaking, he was so immersed in what he had just learned.
"I said, are you staying in Black Rock tonight?" Andrew repeated.
"Uh, yeah." Henry answered.
If the weather had been warmer, he would have preferred camping out on the plains under the stars. But it was cold every night now and there was no warm body to covet if he got chilled.
"Me too. Good then!' Andy exclaimed. "It looks like the show is about to start."
As the cabaret barmaid took the stage and the piano began to play, Henry tried to focus on the entertainment but he felt himself getting more irritated with every drink he had. Andrew was clapping and whistling through his fingers as the auburn haired woman belted out a version of 'Goodbye, Liza Jane' followed by a risqué dance routine that brought him to his feet. Henry wanted to brain him with the butt of his gun. To be fair, Andy wasn't the only person whooping and hollering during the show. All the patrons were, men and women both, but he wasn't in the mood for any of it. All he wanted was a meal in his room and maybe a good night's sleep. He stood and moved to go upstairs but Andrew grabbed him by the coat.
"Where are you going?" He asked. "By the way she's been staring over here, I think she's performing just for you."
Henry glanced up and found she was indeed looking directly at him as she sang another tune that he didn't recognize.
"I'm shocked!" Andy proclaimed. "The Henry Delarue I know would devour that strawberry tart whole! Married life certainly has changed you."
The only thing that did was piss Henry off even more and the fantasy of slamming him in the head with the butt of his gun was replaced with the urge to empty the chamber into him instead.
"I'm tired and I've got a lot on my mind." Henry retorted, pulling the hem of his coat out of Andrew's hand. "I'm sure you know why."
"Suit yourself." He shrugged and went back to clapping as Henry took his leave.