Journey into Violence by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page A

the Long Branch Saloon and the China Doll cathouse. But the establishment that was causing the most stir that hot summer day was a newly constructed false-fronted building named the Top Hat. A sign hung outside the glass doors.

    G RAND O PENING T ODAY
    Â 
    GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!
    Â 
    The Finest Spirits, Cigars, and Games of Chance for the Sporting Gentleman
    ~Maddox Franklin, Prop.

    To get Mr. Franklin’s message across, a pretty woman, naked as a seal, paraded up and down outside the establishment on a white horse led by a small black boy dressed like a Moor in scarlet tunic and feathered turban. The young lady’s long blond hair was strategically arranged to cover her nudity but it was, as Kate would say later, “at best, a hit-and-miss arrangement.”
    â€œDodge is quite a place, huh, Ma?” Trace said, grinning. “And that there gal is Lady Godiva right from the history book.”
    Ignoring Frank’s grin, Kate said, “You stay away from that den of iniquity, Trace. Girls, girls, girls indeed. Better you remain in your hotel room and read the Holy Bible and better Lady Godiva found herself some decent, modest clothes.”
    â€œYou listen to your ma, Trace,” Frank said. “Reading scripture sure as hell beats whiskey, cigars, and naked women.”
    Kate glared at him, but Frank’s face was empty as he studiously looked straight ahead.
    * * *
    Once the Kerrigan herd had been penned, Kate sought out the cattle buyers and arranged for a count. Because of the easy trail conditions, the beeves had put on weight and were in prime condition. She expected top dollar and was paid thirty-five dollars a head for her twenty-eight hundred steers for a total of ninety-eight thousand dollars.
    After paying off the hands, Kate took rooms for herself, Trace, Frank, and Hank Lowery at the respectable and whisper-quiet Drover’s Rest Hotel. Despite making a huge profit, Kate insisted that Frank and Trace share a room. Lowery, still a pariah despite having done a man’s part on the trail, had a room by himself.
    That evening after dinner, Kate lingered to drink coffee and bade the others to do the same. The sounds of Dodge City drifted into the dining room—the roars of whiskey-drinking men, the brassy laughter of painted women, and the constant tinpan cacophony of competing pianos and banjos. “I told Ollie Bligh to set out for home tomorrow morning with the chuck wagon.”
    â€œI hope he’s a better driver than he is a cook,” Frank said.
    Kate nodded. “That may be so.” Having some empathy for bad cooks, she added, “But he does try, bless him. Trace, you will accompany the wagon and see that Ollie stays away from the bottle.”
    Trace was crestfallen. “But Ma—”
    â€œNo buts, Trace, and no maybes. Do you remember what happened the last time you were here?”
    â€œI remember.”
    â€œYou were wounded and forced to kill a man,” Kate said.
    â€œMa, I said I remember.”
    â€œI’ll feel better when I know you’re on the trail back to Texas. And first thing after breakfast tomorrow you will be.”
    â€œWhy don’t we all head back?” Frank said. “There’s nothing in Dodge I need to do that I haven’t done many times before.”
    â€œYes, I’m quite sure that is the case, Frank,” Kate said. “And please spare me the details of what you’ve done before. I’ll stay in Dodge until I can arrange a bank transfer and discuss a few business details with my cattle buyers. That will only take until the day after tomorrow and then we’ll leave. Trace, you’ll be slowed by the wagon so I’m sure we’ll catch up with you on the trail.” Kate looked around the table. “Well, are we all in agreement?”
    â€œWould it make any difference if we were not?” Trace said.
    Kate shook her head. “Not a bit.”
    Before leaving Texas,