Regulator, chapter 13
Katy, Jessamine & Violet are invited to ride with River Tom's gang
There was a gunshot.
“Oh goddammit.”
“This is going to get worse before it gets better. Think we’ll have to leave?”
“I don’t know, but if we do, we shouldn’t run hungry.”
by Frank A. Spring
It really had started out as a pleasant morning. Katy was, again, at a table in an establishment of doubtful repute, this one styling itself a hotel rather than a saloon but that was just a reflection of how it divided up its real estate, as the services and amenities were pretty much the same. Jessamine was upstairs, presumably still asleep, though if Katy knew her at all she’d be down momentarily to treat the ill-effects of last night’s brandy with more eggs and meat than it seemed possible someone of her size could contain. Katy felt in her pocket and fingered a small bottle of laudanum she’d had the house send out for, a gift for her friend as her preferred way of sending a hangover into full retreat.
Katy was mopping up eggs with great satisfaction. In another hour the main room of the hotel would be filled with locals - tradesmen and hoopleheads and every stripe of man connected with the cow business, all lining up at the kitchen hatch to have their trays loaded with overcooked scrambled eggs, bacon that really should have been moved along last week, and the biscuits that redeemed the whole enterprise. All of this they’d bolt as quickly as possible, seating being at a premium, and go on about their days.
Women there were, too, in this assemblage, working girls in both the literal and euphemistic senses. They had their own tables, territory which they defended with barbed tongue and sheer moral force, and seemed by common consent to have won the right to jump the queue, walking straight up to the kitchen hatch in twos or threes as men stood respectfully aside in a display of gallantry that Katy found unexpected and oddly touching. They would eat speedily but not without conversation, leaving, as they had arrived, in twos or threes, and shortly after one of these groups had left another of the same size would arrive. They were effectively breakfasting in staggered shifts and Katy diverted herself with lazy speculation. The truth, as it so often does, ran her wondrous notions right off.
“They’re watching each other’s kids,” Jessamine had said flatly between forkfuls of egg.
The early mornings were quiet, though, and Katy was often the only person downstairs, her breakfast brought out to her, eggs like she liked them, this week’s bacon, an early batch of biscuits prepared specifically for her.
When the outlaws - Violet and Jessamine and Katy, Davy O’Connell, and River Tom, who’d tagged along this time - had arrived at The Elm Hotel, River Tom had greeted the proprietor by name and laid a pile of bank notes on his desk with the words “this’ll start us off. Keep us happy.” “And no bullshit,” Davy O’Connell had added, chilling the proprietor in a way he hadn’t felt since the rebel yell rose over the lines at Fredericksburg. And happy, or at least stuffed to the gills with any indulgence they cared to name, they had been kept.
Katy was idly debating the merits of another egg and biscuit when Red River Tom Coleman sat down across from her and signaled the house for coffee. It had been some time since they’d spoken individually, though she had spent a lot of time in his company with Jessamine and Violet as they worked out their act for the Plainview job. She knew that when Davy O’Connell had proposed the gang take on the girls, River Tom had come around on them immediately and been a stronger and more articulate advocate than Davy, whose strategy for successful argument was repetition at increasing volume followed by gunfire.
“These things don’t usually last but a couple of years. Only question is how they end. I’ve been lucky so far. But luck doesn’t last forever.”
For this, Katy had always been grateful to River Tom; even before the Plainview job, back when she and Jessamine had just been used as scouts or mild distractions to set up a mark or cover a getaway, they had made more money on each single job than they would have in months of hard grifting on their own.
At less risk, too, Katy was forced to admit, but this had to be qualified. The men gave Jessamine and Katy a wide berth, and Katy knew them well enough to see that this wasn’t because of their upstanding moral principles or respect for women. Anyone who upset Katy and Jessamine would upset Violet, and anyone who upset Violet would upset Davy O’Connell, and anyone who upset Davy O’Connell was in for a world of hurt. Even Salt Lick was a little cautious around Davy. But Jessamine and Katy knew that romantic relations between the young and impetuous are not a solid foundation for a third party’s future financial or personal security, and the plan for what to do if things went south between Violet and Davy started and ended with getting Jessamine a faster horse.
“I guess I never thanked you properly, did I,” said River Tom, sipping his coffee, “for Plainview. Your idea.”
Katy shrugged. “All of our idea, really, and you carried the load,” she said. “Had the whole town fooled.”
“It was fun,” said Tom. “And anyway I didn’t have to get my face messed up for it.” He craned his neck to regard the yellowing bruise around her eye.
“Well, what price beauty,” said Katy and poured herself another cup.
“What indeed,” he said quietly.
The distant rattle of dishes in the kitchen, footsteps from the floors above.
“How long are you planning to ride with us?” Coleman asked.
Katy covered her surprise. “Hm?”
He simply looked at her.
“I don’t know,” she said at length. “How long are you?”
“These things don’t usually last but a couple of years,” Coleman said. “Only question is how they end. I’ve been lucky so far. But luck doesn’t last forever.”
Katy waited.
“The best way to keep it from going bad when a gang breaks up is for everyone to agree in advance what the last job is. Make provisions to guarantee a fair split of the last take. Make sure there’s no side-dealing. When someone just splits, it leaves the rest of the gang with questions they can’t afford to leave unanswered, as I know from bitter personal experience.” He pulled out a cigarette. “You’ll tell us, won’t you, if the thought ever strikes you to light out?”
Jessamine hadn’t been talking, Katy was sure of that. Had Violet told Davy about California? Katy couldn’t picture her telling anyone else, but she also couldn’t picture Davy blabbing to River Tom, whom he didn’t particularly seem to like. Did the man have second sight? His safety match flared.
“Of course,” she said quietly. “Who should I tell - you or Salt Lick?”
Coleman paused, the match burning in his fingers, then lit his cigarette and drew on it.
“As for that -“ he began sharply, but Jessamine Halley dropped into an empty seat and began picking food off of Katy’s plate and shoveling it frantically into her mouth. Coleman met Katy’s eyes for a long moment, then exhaled smoke and a chuckle.
“Good morning, hungry,” he said.
“Morning,” Jessamine said between bits of bacon. She looked up at him briefly. “You might want to go upstairs.”
“When there’s such pleasant company down here?”
“Suit yourself,” said Jessamine. “But Davy’s about to fuck up, or I’m Dutch.”
“Shit.” Coleman sat up. “What’s he up to?”
“All I know is I went in to see if Violet wanted to come down and Davy was getting worked up like he does about the fellow next door who’d been snoring all night.”
“Ah, hell,” said Coleman, waving her off with his cigarette. “That ain’t nothing.” the last word coinciding exactly with the sound of a gunshot upstairs. “Oh goddammit,” he said, and threw down his cigarette.
“This is going to get worse before it gets better,” said Katy, listening to frantic steps and raised voices from upstairs. “Think we’ll have to leave?”
“Two more plates here,” Jessamine called toward the kitchen, then turned back. “I don’t know,” she said, eating the last of Katy’s biscuit, “but if we do, we shouldn’t run hungry.”
Subscribe to The Experiment to keep up with future chapters of Regulator. Check out Frank Spring’s previous contributions to The Experiment which include “Neither Gone Nor Forgotten,” “Oh, DaveBro,” and “In Praise of Gold Leaf.” For legal reasons, I want to make clear that Frank Spring owns the rights to Regulator, free and clear. Follow him on Twitter at @frankspring.
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