The Spirit is Willing (An Ophelia Wylde Paranormal Mystery) by Max McCoy Read Free Book Online

least, I hope to get my hands on that book.”
    Bernard the waiter brought Calder a platter of sirloin steak and scrambled eggs, and refilled both coffees. Calder asked if I wanted something, and I told him it was too early to even think about food.
    “You’re eating with a purpose,” I said. “In a hurry?”
    “I have paper on a couple of whiskey traders over on the Medicine Lodge River in Kiowa County,” he said. “I aim to serve them before noon.”
    “Paper?” I asked. “Arrest warrants?”
    “They’re bail jumpers,” Calder said. “They’ve already been arrested once. I’m going to bring their sorry hides back here to stand trial or know the reason why.”
    “Be careful, Jack,” I said.
    “These boys have no stomach for trouble,” Calder said. “One of them is a Texan named Harker, and he’s been on the drift for months. He used to be a cowhand but got tangled up here in Dodge with this other fellow, Smilin’ Solomon Stone. They’ve been up to general disorder ever since. Some time in jail might be corrective. And a good beating.”
    “Jack,” I said. “Are you still a member of the Vigilance Committee?”
    He took a sip of his coffee, then cleared his throat.
    “Why do you ask?”
    “I had a dream,” I said. “It came up.”
    “The committee hasn’t met regular in a long while,” he said.
    “It might as well meet every Sunday, considering the reputation it still has in this town,” I said. “Children aren’t afraid of the bogeyman in Dodge City if they’re bad, they’re afraid of the Committee of Vigilance.”
    “Then I guess they’d better be good.”
    “Jack, I’m serious. What haven’t you told me?”
    “Ophelia,” Calder said, then wiped his mouth with a checkered napkin. “I had a wife. She died. I don’t need another.”
    Calder tossed the cloth on the table.
    My cheeks blazed and I blinked back tears. I felt both ashamed and outraged, with more than a dash of betrayal thrown in. Why was he treating me this way?
    “That was mean, Jack.”
    Calder pushed his half-eaten breakfast away and tossed a dollar note on the table.
    “I thought we were partners.”
    He stood.
    “That’s it? You’re not going to talk about this?”
    “If I can find Harker and Stone, I should be back by dark,” he said, avoiding my eyes. “But if I have to scare them up out of the brush, it may take a day or two. Longer, if they decide to run for Texas.”

6
    After Calder left, I sat at the table and drank more coffee and pondered what I had done to make him so cold to me. The prouder the man, the harder it is to get him to talk about his feelings. It was infuriating. We were supposed to be partners, and all I did was ask an honest question out of concern, and he treated me like I had killed his dog.
    Then the front door banged open so hard I thought it was going to break the glass, and into the restaurant stumbled a local prostitute by the name of Frankie Bell. Everybody in Dodge City knew Frankie, or knew of her, because she did things that inspired gossip. For one, she was a whore and unashamed of it. This was undis-turbing to the night denizens, but unacceptable to those who had daytime jobs, attended city council meetings, and went to church on Sundays. For another, she was a big girl—taller than most men, in fact, in her bare feet—and she had muscles under those curves, and she wasn’t afraid to use them when she believed her honor had been challenged. Last week, she had pummeled a shoe salesman from Wichita who had suggested Frankie could turn a better profit as a circus curiosity.
    “The usual, doll?” Bernard asked.
    “Yep,” Frankie said.
    She was wearing a red kimono, her wild blond hair spilled over her shoulders, and a badly rolled cigarette dangled from her lower lip. Her brown eyes were bright with whiskey and she navigated the restaurant by gripping the backs of chairs like they were the rail on a storm-tossed ship. She found a table she liked by the kitchen door