Jake, Devils on Horseback, Book 2 Read online

  “What does the job pay?” Zeke had grudgingly been the moneyman for the group for the last three months. He kept asking Jake to take over the accounts, but Jake had no desire to be responsible for their funds. No man in his right mind would let a thief be his bookkeeper anyway.

  “Room and board, and fifty dollars each when the job is finished.”

  Silence dominated the room. It was a paltry sum compared to the money they’d received in Grayton from Nate’s father-in-law, but in the face of having five dollars in their collective pockets, two hundred dollars was enough to last them a while. That was if, of course, the town actually paid the money. From the look of things, Tanger didn’t have two hundred pennies much less two hundred dollars.

  “We’ll need the agreement in writing, Phineas.” Jake eased back against the sofa and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Not to say we don’t trust you, but we are a business as you may or may not know. D.H. Enterprises has served some of the finest men in Texas.”

  Or at least one or two anyway. Jake wasn’t sure if all of their former bosses could be called fine men.

  “Of course, of course. I can prepare the document myself.” Phineas glanced at the small gold watch he pulled from his vest pocket. “It’s getting close to noontime. If you want the job, you can make the dinner meal down at Cindy’s restaurant.”

  Jake knew Phineas hadn’t been completely honest with them, but the older man had revealed more than Jake anticipated. From what he could gather, the town was targeted by some unknown men for destruction and robbery, and God only knew what else. Their young men must’ve gone off to war and either not come back or been killed afterwards in whatever happened in Tanger. From what the Devils had seen that morning, fear gripped whoever was left in town. They were hanging on by their proverbial fingernails and required the Devil’s own magic to bring them back to life.

  “Can you give us a few moments to discuss it, Mayor?” Gideon, always the diplomat, asked politely.

  “Absolutely.” Phineas stood, brushing his hands down his trousers to smooth away the wrinkles in the dilapidated fabric. “I surely hope you and your friends can help us, Mr. Blackwood. We’d be grateful for some assistance.” With a courtly bow, Phineas left the room.

  Jake assumed the mayor stood ten feet away with his ear pressed to the wall. That’s what he’d do in the same situation.

  “What do you think?” Gideon looked at both of them, questions swimming in his eyes.

  “He’s lying.” Zeke frowned. “I don’t trust him for a minute, crafty coot.”

  “Jake?” Gideon focused on Jake. Although he’d been their commander in the war, Gid always got everyone’s opinion before making a decision. Even now. Jake respected him immensely for that. “I know you have an opinion too. Let’s have it.”

  Jake chose his words carefully, unwilling to put their lives in danger but ready to take a risk to save them from hunger again. He remembered all too well what it felt like to be desperate enough to eat a cooked rat. “I think Zeke is right that the old man is lying, and he hasn’t told us everything either.”

  “See? I told you.” Zeke stood and started toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Jake touched his friend’s arm, stopping him from leaving. “But I don’t think we should turn the job down.”

  “What? Why not?” Zeke’s frown deepened. “He’s trying to bamboozle us and you know it.”

  “Yes, I do, which is why we need to stay. He’s using every bit of his wit and intelligence to convince us to stay. I want to know why. What exactly is wrong in Tanger and why would a man like Phineas need to trick us into working for them? You’ve seen the town, it’s in worse shape than my boots. Something is seriously off-kilter here and even if we only come out of this with a place to sleep and vittles for a month, it’s better than sleeping under the stars with empty gullets.” Jake looked to Gideon. “I say we accept his offer, keep our guns on, our eyes wide and our ears open.”

  Gideon nodded. “I think you’re right, Jake. The worst that can happen is we get shot up, but we’ve already had that happen more than once. At best, we can help these people and fill our pockets.” He gestured to Zeke. “There’s three of us here. You get to vote too, cousin.”

  Zeke scowled at both of them. “On the condition we skedaddle if things get too dangerous. I don’t need Red here getting thrown in the pokey. I don’t know that I could rescue him again.” A grin played around his lips.

  “Hey, I was about to get out of that jail cell when you came in with that saloon girl in Grayton.” Jake was lying, of course. “You just sped it along a little.”

  Zeke snorted. “Right, you keep telling yourself that lie and maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

  Jake shrugged, but the memory of those hours he spent in the Grayton jail on Nessman’s trumped-up charges had never left him. Any second spent behind bars, or in small spaces, left him sweating and almost shitting his pants. Zeke had rescued him that day and he would always be grateful to his friend for that. “Oh ye of little faith.”

  “So we’re in agreement,” Gideon interrupted. “We take the job and the consequences, even if they’re unknown.”

  “Agreed,” Zeke and Jake replied.

  “What’s Lee going to say?” Jake couldn’t help but ask. The hothead of the group, Lee was forever griping about everything. No doubt he’d have plenty to say about taking on a job where the information in town was as scarce as a man under age twenty-five.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Gideon shook his head. “A full belly and a drink of whiskey will go a long way for all of us.”

  “Amen to that.” Jake could vividly remember the last time they’d had that particular pleasure. It had been months and they were due for some good luck for a change.

  He hoped Tanger was the town to give it to them.

  Chapter Two

  Jake sipped his coffee slowly, watching everyone and everything around him. Not that there was much to see since most citizens of Tanger were still making themselves scarce. The Devils ate the food provided at the restaurant, but it was worse than when they let Zeke cook a few weeks ago. At least then they could dip the biscuits in coffee to soften them up. The soup in front of Jake was a scary shade of orange with floating pieces of something he couldn’t identify.

  It also tasted like someone’s used farm boots.

  The coffee, on the other hand, was strong enough to stand a spoon up in, just the way Jake liked it. In fact, he liked it so much he wanted a second cup, earning surprised and grumpy glances from the rest of the Devils. They obviously didn’t appreciate truly good coffee. Jake shrugged it off and drank the ambrosia, grateful to be working again, even with a bellyful of unknown ingredients. He shifted in the hard wooden chair and made mental notes about the establishment.

  It was called Cindy’s, presumably after someone besides the grizzled old man who had served them dinner. He’d been openly hostile and made no attempts at conversation other than a grunt and a rather loud snort. Jake had suppressed a grin through the entire performance, not wishing to make enemies of anyone in Tanger just yet. By Jake’s estimate, the restaurant hadn’t been used much in the last six months. Dust had taken up residence on the tables that sat on the right side of the building. If he had to guess, he’d say only six of the fifteen tables had been used in quite some time. Their tops were scarred with what looked like knife marks, some of them quite deep.

  It appeared that whomever was harassing Tanger’s citizens had left almost no building untouched in their rampage. Jake noted with interest that the general store had just a few marks and no broken windows, unusual considering the store held money and goods to sell.

  Lee squirmed in his seat like a kid in Sunday school, fidgety to the extreme. Jake was ready to make him eat more soup to shut him up.

  “Where’s the house again?” Lee twirled the spoon in his hand as h
is knee connected with the table’s edge.

  “Down at the end of the street. We’ll get there after we’ve eaten.” Gideon frowned at his younger cousin. “You need to calm down, Lee. As I’ve explained already, there’s no reason to hurry. Phineas said it’d be a couple of hours before he could get the house ready.”

  “Well if that old codger is doing the cleaning, it might be a couple of days.” Zeke made a face at his bowl. “What the hell is this anyway?”

  Jake raised one brow. “I think it’s soup, but it could also be yesterday’s dishwater.”

  Gideon chuckled. “Surely does taste like it.” He glanced around. “I’m hoping Cindy comes out of hiding and saves us from whoever cooked this.”

  The older man who had served them the soup stepped back into the restaurant, presumably from the kitchen. He wore clothes that had seen better days, in addition to the scowl that marred his wrinkled face. His hands were calloused, speaking of a life of hard work, and they trembled as he picked up Jake’s empty bowl.

  “More?” he grumbled.

  “No thank you, sir. My name is Jake Sheridan, and these are my friends Gideon, Lee and Zeke Blackwood. Phineas just hired us to help the town.” Jake pulled out his most charming grin. “I’m hoping you have more coffee though.”

  Something in the older man’s expression softened slightly. “Name’s Elmer Cooley. This here is—was my granddaughter’s restaurant.” He turned without another word and went back into the kitchen.

  “He’s as charming as Lee.” Jake ducked when a rock-like biscuit flew toward him.

  “Was her restaurant?” Zeke frowned.

  “I’m mighty curious to find out exactly what happened to Cindy.” Gideon stared after the older man.

  “I want to get moving. All this sitting around is making me nervous.” Lee’s gaze skittered around the empty restaurant.

  “Why don’t you three go for a walk around town, try and ferret out where all the people are. I’m going to stay here and ah, have more coffee.” Jake’s mother once told him he could charm the pants off a nun, then slapped a hand over her mouth. It was true he’d been gifted with the ability to make other people feel comfortable, and when that happened, they usually talked to him.

  Gideon nodded and the three of them left Jake by himself. It was a little odd to be sitting in a restaurant alone in the middle of the day, an uneasy feeling to be sure. Jake said a quick prayer to the fey people to keep him safe, not that he actually believed in Irish folklore, but he did believe in always keeping his options open. He suspected sometimes they kept him from falling too far into the blackness that tried to overwhelm him.

  By the time Elmer came back in with the pot of coffee, Jake had cleared the rest of the bowls and stacked them neatly on the table. The older man’s eyes widened just a bit, then he grunted a thanks as he set the coffeepot on the table next to Jake.

  “Since you like this godawful brew so much, you might as well finish it.” Elmer picked up the bowls.

  “Sit, please, Mr. Cooley. It’s been a dog’s age since I talked to anyone but those three Devils and I would be happy to jaw with you for a spell.” Jake poured himself another cup of coffee, then sniffed it dramatically. “I can’t believe you called this godawful. It’s the nectar of the gods is what it is.”

  Elmer snorted again. “I don’t believe you’re right in the head, boy.”

  Jake laughed and took a scorching mouthful of coffee. Heaven.

  “What did you mean when you said Phineas hired you?” Elmer’s question came a bit sooner than Jake anticipated, which meant he was ready to talk.

  “Mr. Wolcott hired my friends and I, well our company D.H. Enterprises, to help the town in any way we can.” Jake stared hard at Elmer. “Whatever needs doing.”

  Elmer seemed to digest that bit of information before he spoke again. “Did he tell you what happened?”

  “Not in great detail, but we got the idea that Tanger needed some young men, and we are available.” Jake kept his tone friendly, enough to make Elmer relax his guard and give Jake the details he needed. “Have you lived here all your life?”

  Elmer ran his hand down his face and looked at the floor for a minute. Jake figured he was getting hold of himself before speaking. “Yep, I sure have.” His voice was a bit rustier, as if something he’d been holding back had crept up into his throat. “Tanger is the only place I ever wanted to live.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Jake meant that compliment even if it sounded as if he was buttering Elmer up. The lake just outside of town sparkled like diamonds, and the trees, the flowers, even the buildings spoke of a quiet dignity that hung on Tanger like a comfortable blanket.

  “Thank you for that. Many folks that pass through don’t see much except nearby cattle ranches. The town ain’t nothing but a watering hole to them.” Elmer almost spat the last sentence. “I expected you four to be of their kind.”

  “Oh no, Mr. Cooley. We are Southern gentlemen making our way in life by helping other people and putting money in our pockets at the same time. We’ve worked all kinds of jobs from shoveling horse shit to hired guns. Dignity and respect we’ve got pocketfuls of, it’s food and money we need to earn.” Jake hoped he sounded as sincere as he felt. Life hadn’t been kind to the boys of Briar Creek, Georgia, but hopefully one day soon, fate would give them the reward they craved.

  Elmer grunted again. “I can see you’ve got a way around people. I don’t trust easy, Red, so you’ll need to remember to keep honest with me.”

  “I understand that completely.” Jake sure did—honesty was something he wanted to keep hold of, but sometimes it was slippery and got away from him. “Where is your granddaughter, by the way? I’d love to compliment her on the coffee.”

  Elmer’s face contorted into a mask of grief so profound it made Jake’s heart ache. He’d known that kind of grief after coming home to nothing but death following the war. Suddenly Elmer was much more than a man he’d been trying to manipulate, he became a person. A man with whom he could share a common bond.

  “I’m sorry, Elmer. I didn’t mean to pry.” Jake shook his head. “I have a runaway tongue sometimes.”

  With a nod, Elmer closed his eyes. “It ain’t been but a few months, and I still can’t believe she’s gone. I feel like she’s alive out there, just waiting on me to rescue her, but I’m too goddamn old to be worth a piss.” His eyes popped open and he pinned Jake with an intense stare. “If Phineas don’t hire you to find them missing women, then I will. I ain’t got much, but I’ll do anything to find Cindy.”

  Missing women? Jake had to bite his tongue to keep the string of curses from escaping. He guessed he now had the answer to the riddle of what Wolcott was hiding.

  * * * * *

  Gabrielle Rinaldi saw the men leave Cindy’s restaurant and decided to follow them. It wasn’t every day strangers came into town who weren’t shooting off guns or hollering. These three were well-armed, lethal-looking men wearing what appeared to be remnants of Confederate uniforms. There were plenty of men like that in Texas, however something about the way they moved with deliberation told her these men were different. She stood in the alley between the mill and the hotel, watching them as they talked quietly while leading their horses down the street.

  Curiously, they stopped every five or ten feet and examined the buildings they passed, the sidewalk, even the posts that held up the porch over Marchison’s store. Gabby knew then that the three strangers weren’t in town to take what they could lay their hands on. Phineas must have found the hired guns he’d been looking for. She wasn’t sure how she felt about them or their mission in Tanger.

  It had been against her better judgment to hire strangers and spend funds the town didn’t have but she was only an unmarried female talking out at a town meeting. Tanger was dying a slow death with hardly any money coming into town. She wanted to know where the money was coming f
rom to pay the men. The old men who were left told her to hush up. Never mind that she’d practically been running the mill since her pa’s accident, or that she’d always done the accounts for the mill and knew more about finance than ninety-eight percent of the men shushing her.

  Gabby was female and that precluded her from having a brain.

  Having the strangers actually there in town gave her an odd, jittery feeling instead of making her feel safe. Perhaps it was the thought that the men were an invitation to the thieving, murdering bastards to come back and try again. By the grace of God, she’d been able to hide each time they had raided. Strangely enough, Gabby wasn’t proud that she’d hidden since so many others had been taken. Her good friend Cindy had been taken on a warm summer evening. She could still hear Cindy’s screams as the raiders rode off into the dying sunset with her across a saddle.

  A chill swept over her, raising goose bumps from head to foot. The sounds haunted her dreams, or rather nightmares. Gabby had never felt as helpless in her life as she had that night the raiders first attacked Tanger. Not surprisingly, they’d only taken the younger women, anyone over the age of thirty-five hadn’t been targeted. That fact didn’t stop Gabby’s mother Mary from hiding next to her daughter each and every time.

  Anger slid through her, kicking out the residual fear. It just wasn’t fair women in town were forced to live in dread of everyone and everything they didn’t know. Gabby had been trying to rally support to recruit a Texas Ranger to help them, even if the state had gone insane after the war ended. So much pain, loss and grief ran like the Rio Grande across the state. Folks were scared, tired and unsure of anything but death.

  Gabby hated living like that. She wanted to smile again, to dance and laugh, to fall in love and get married. Was that such a bad thing? She also wanted to wear trousers without everyone staring at her. Safety precautions forced her to don britches to work in the mill. There was no reason to suffer from vapors. Of course, experience with the raiders had taught her that wearing trousers when she was out in the street was a necessity to survive.