Sathow's Sinners by Marcus Galloway Page A

“Oh! I bet you mean Stan Jessowitz!”
    Nate mimicked the other man’s expression. “That’s him. Any notion of where I can find him?”
    â€œSee that big tent right over yonder?” the fat man asked while using a pudgy finger to point deeper into the camp.
    Nate looked in that direction, past a cluster of fur traders sitting behind their stacked pelts toward what amounted to the center of camp. “You mean the one with the red scarves tied to the top of its posts?”
    â€œNo. That’s the whores’ tent.”
    If he’d looked just a bit harder, Nate would have been able to see as much for himself since Deaugrey’s mule was already tied off in front of that place.
    â€œPlenty of nice ladies in there, though,” the fat man said through a lecherous smile. “And they’re open to negotiation, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œThat ain’t what I’m here for.”
    â€œRight. The place I meant to show you is the tent just past that first one you spotted. That next tent is where you go for a drink or a game of cards. Whenever Stan ain’t working, he can be found in there. Tell the bartender I sent you, and your first drink is free.”
    â€œMuch obliged,” Nate said. After all the help he’d been given, he felt a little bad for being so harsh with the fat man earlier. If the information panned out, and if his horse still looked better than the poor specimens in that corral, Nate decided to toss a bit more money into the other man’s hands. If things went a different way, the fat man would get something much different for his troubles.
    â€œHow long will you be staying, if you don’t mind my asking?”
    â€œShouldn’t be long,” Nate replied. “Tell me, this is a mining camp, right?”
    â€œThat’s right,” the fat man grunted as he waddled over to a spot where the rope was looped over a post to act as a kind of gate to the corral.
    â€œWhat is it that’s mined?”
    â€œSome silver. Some copper. A bit of zinc. I ain’t never been a miner. I just go where the money is and when there ain’t enough of it to keep food in my mouth, I move along to the next place.”
    Nate could read most men just by talking to them for a few minutes. Some took a bit more time. Others, like the man in front of him now, took a whole lot less. Since he would have bet everything he had that the fat man would sell him out for the price of a steak, Nate took that option away by saying, “If Jessowitz or any of his friends come around, let them know I’m looking for him. No trouble. Just a friendly conversation.”
    â€œWill do, boss.”

13
    W hen Deaugrey got close enough to see the tent with the red scarves flying from the top of its posts, he swore he could smell the sweet scents of what awaited him inside. He climbed down from his mule, snapped the reins around a hitching post without bothering to check how sturdy it was and marched inside through an open flap. Inside was a small room sectioned off by cheap partitions containing a small folding table bearing a ledger, pen and inkwell. A tall woman with dark blond hair stepped up to meet him with her hands on her hips and her chest thrust forward.
    â€œMy, my!” she said. “Aren’t you in a hurry! Been out working on your own for a while, cowboy?”
    â€œI’m looking for a woman,” Deaugrey said.
    â€œWe have plenty of those. What’s your preference?”
    â€œShe was here a few days ago when I last visited this camp. A might bit taller than me, but not quite as tall as you, slender, pale skin, short, dark, curly hair. At the time, she was wearing a dark red ribbon with a bow near her left ear.”
    â€œYou have quite the eye for detail,” she told him with a smile.
    When Deaugrey smiled back, he leaned in to whisper, “Actually, I’ve got two of ’em. And,” he added while