Free The Cassidy Posse by D. N. Bedeker

There was a tight group of men in business suits engaged in terse conversation by a car that was being filled with baggage. Excess baggage. Whoever they were they were not used to traveling light. This was no hunting trip.
    The bell tolled announcing two minutes until departure, and Mike and Patrick quickly boarded the train. Once they were underway, Cheyenne disappeared from the window.

CHAPTER 8
THE DEAL OF A LIFETIME

    Nell Quinn stepped through the doorway of the Palmer House like she was the new owner. She looked radiant in her green silk dress and matching wide brim hat trimmed with feathers. She carried a parasol by
Poi ret
, Paris’s most influential couturier, which she wielded like a sword of equality that would lay low all class barriers. Nell had purchased it at Marshall Field that morning. The society matrons may not speak to her in Chicago’s premier department store, but they sure as hell weren’t going to outspend her.
    The
martre de
this evening was Leo, the Englishman. The sight of her always made him nervous, thus he always seated her quickly. Her guess was that he wanted her out of sight as fast as possible. She and Edith were never given a conspicuous table and they liked it that way. They could live without seeing who, among the “who’s who” of Chicago, was walking through the door of the Palmer House. Chances are she had already seen some of them today sneaking into her and Edith’s Blue Palace. In their place, it was the “who’s who” that wanted to be inconspicuous so she supposed turn about was fair play.
    Leo led her quickly down a side aisle without taking time to greet her. He brought her to a table in a remote corner of the room.
    “Hi, babe,” Edith greeted her in her worn, scratchy voice. She was ten years older than Nell and in their business that was a lifetime. “What happened to you? You were supposed to ride with me. Geez, you talked me into spending a fortune on that fancy carriage and you’re taken public transportation. It don’t make sense.”
    “I told you something came up,” said Nell.
    “Well, you’re coming home in the carriage, aren’t you?” asked Edith with a concerned tone.
    “Yeah, sure,” Nell assured her.
    There was an awkward moment of silence.
    “Geez, kid, you look like a million bucks in that dress,” Edith said finally. “You always did look great in green. It’s your green eyes and red hair. Green is just your color.”
    “Christ, what’s with all the compliments?” said Nell. “You’ll turn a girl’s head. If you were a guy, you’d have me in bed already.”
    “Then we wouldn’t be friends for long or in business. Men are arrogant bastards.”
    “Tough to live without them though,” she said with a wink. “Whose our new waiter here? A face like a Greek god and well-built too.”
    “Good evening lad-ies,” he said with what sounded close to a French accent, “I yam Henri and I weel be serving you tonight. ‘ave you yet had a chance to look ovair the menu?”
    “No, not really,” said Nell, picking it up and giving it a cursory glance.
    “Would you lad-ies care to ord-air a cocktail first?”
    “Sure, Henri, you talked us into it,” said Edith. “Bring us a bottle of wine.”
    “And what kind of wine would that be?” Henri asked sarcastically. “red or white?”
    “A bottle of Imperial ‘78,” said Nell curtly, wiping the smug look off his face.
    “Geez, kid, that stuff’s expensive,” said Edith after Henri had left the table.
    “Edith, expensive is Dom Perrion,” said Nell condescendingly. “Besides, tonight is a special night for me… for both of us.”
    “Why?”
    “Tonight, my friend, I’m going to make you the deal of a lifetime,” said Nell, looking at Edith and smiling confidently.
    “I always get nervous when other people say they are going to do me a favor.”
    The offer was interrupted when a waiter brought their champagne. He poured it carefully as to not produce too many bubbles. He then