Free MacCallister: The Eagles Legacy: The Killing by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone

you just had,” the cowboy was saying as they came down the stairs side by side. “Damn me if I don’t believe that the next time I have me enough money, why, I’ll just be comin’ back to see you again.”
    “Anytime, cowboy,” Libbie said.
    Camden waited until the cowboy left, then he walked over to Libbie.
    “Let’s me ’n you go upstairs now,” he said.
    “I told you, I ain’t goin’ with you no more,” Libbie replied.
    “What do you mean, you ain’t goin’ with me no more? I got the money. I got the money right here.”
    Camden stuck his hand down in his pocket and pulled out a fistful of dollars. “See? This here is more than enough for you to go upstairs with me.”
    “I don’t want nothin’ to do with you anymore, Camden. And neither do any of the other girls who work here. You get drunk and you hit us. We ain’t gettin’ paid to be beat on.”
    “Yeah, well, I ain’t drunk now,” Camden said. “I’m sober as a judge.”
    “I told you, I ain’t goin’ upstairs with you, and that’s that.”
    “All right, fine. Try and make it without me,” Camden said. “Because here’s the truth: ’ceptin’ for that cowboy that just left, there ain’t nobody else goin’ to touch you with a ten-foot pole. And while you’re wastin’ away to nothin’ over here, I’ll be takin’ my business to the Tivoli.”
    “Ha! The Tivoli?” Libbie said. “Lots of luck with that. There won’t be a woman over there who will have anything to do with you,” Libbie insisted.
     
     
    After dinner was served at the Cheyenne Club, most of the members returned to the parlor for conversation or cards or billiards, but Duff decided he would visit the Tivoli Saloon. He did this not only because it reminded him of the White Horse Pub back in Donuun, but also because he enjoyed being among a more diverse group of people than could be found at the Cheyenne Club.
    There were several saloons in Cheyenne, from the Eagle Saloon, which was in a part of town frequented by rough men and soiled doves, to the Tivoli, which was an exceptionally nice establishment. The Tivoli featured an elaborate wood back-bar, a shining brass footrail, and customers’ towels hanging from bass rings on the front of the bar. The towels were kept fresh by frequent changing. The saloon also had electric lighting, a feature not enjoyed by some of the more pedestrian saloons.
    Upstairs in the Tivoli, there were several rooms called “visiting parlors.” In these rooms, gentlemen could enjoy a conversation with some of the women who worked at the Tivoli, as long as they understood that it was conversation only. A printed sign on the wall of each of the visiting parlors laid that out.

    We select our young women
from the best backgrounds.
     
    They are attractive, intelligent,
and well versed in enough subjects
to provide stimulating
conversation with our guests.
     
    There is a three drink minimum
required
to use one of these rooms.
     
    Please act as G ENTLEMEN,
and respect the L ADIES,
who are here to make your visit
with us more pleasurable.
     

    Tyler Camden, having made good on his promise to come over to the Tivoli was, at the moment, in one of the visiting parlors. He had already exceeded his three-drink minimum, and things were not going well for him. He was with two girls, Cindy McPheeters and Polly Fenton, but it seemed that the only thing they wanted to do was talk. Finally, he decided to take matters into his own hands.
    “Look here, ain’t there some rooms up here where we can go?” Camden asked.
    Cindy laughed. “What do you mean, are there any rooms up here? You are in a room up here, silly.”
    “Nah, I ain’t a’ talkin’ about that. What I’m a’ talkin’ about is a room with a bed, so me ’n one of you,” he smiled at both of them, displaying a mouth full of yellowed and broken teeth, “could go split the sheets. An’ I don’t care which one ’tis, ’cause either one is fine by me.”
    Polly and