Cold Steel and Hot Lead [How the West Was Done 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read Online Free PDF

it?”
    Rudy’s eyes sparkled. “My lips are sealed.”
    “I knew it!” Derrick raged with glee. “He’s always shown an inordinate interest in women’s underthings. Boy. This will be interesting the next time he tries to oppose my women’s suffrage measure.”
    “Now, you can’t use what you know,” Rudy warned. “Women’s measure? For the vote, you mean?”
    “Yes,” Derrick said warmly. Poofs usually supported his women’s measure. They seemed to figure if the downtrodden women could gain more rights and acceptance, maybe they could, too. They identified with the oppressed and abused. “I’ve got the backing of the American Equal Rights Association. It’s only a matter of time before women get the vote. It will attract more women to Wyoming Territory and make world history. I’m heading to Cheyenne to pass a resolution to allow women to sit in the chambers where lawmakers sit.”
    “Yes,” Rudy agreed. “And cast the fear of ‘free love’ into everyone’s hearts.”
    “Free love?” Jeremiah’s weak voice came from behind Derrick. Awake now, Jeremiah pulled himself up from the floor using the cage of a dressmaker’s mannequin. “Oh, dear Lord, what next? Women voting, ghosts popping out of spirit cabinets, slavery abolished—should Eskimos be elected to the legislature?” He hauled himself into a chair but was still as limp as a handkerchief. “What is this world coming to? What am I doing on the floor? Oh, my.”
    Derrick took a chair next to Montreal Jed. “Listen here, my good fellow. The Phenomenal Percy Tibbles—for that was the specter who emanated from Rudy’s cabinet—told us that an Italian contortionist took Memphis Kittie. He told us we could find out more by going to Albuquerque.”
    “Which, of course,” added Rudy, “we’re not going to do. We’re not going anywhere until the snow melts.”
    Jeremiah frowned, as though waking up from a particularly harsh bender. “Albuquerque doesn’t make any sense. But I have heard of a Phenomenal Percy Tibbles. He wrestled bears but was trampled to death by bison in South Pass.”
    “Yes!” cried Derrick. “That’s the fellow.”
    Jeremiah began to perk up. “It was funny, because it was actually not a wild herd of bison but a few that belonged to one of the acts. How does one get trampled to death by only three buffalo?” He even attempted a chortle. “Absurd.”
    Rudy said, “Maybe that’s why he’s so interested in vindicating other showmen. Jeremiah, does this Italian contortionist make any sense to you? Are there any Italians in your troupe?”
    “Yes. There’s an Antonio Franconi, an acrobat.”
    “Does he have any reason to want to make you look bad in public?”
    “About as much reason as anyone. Once I accused him of nicking a jar of my little people paint. Vermilion red. He denied it, of course.”
    “Paint!” Derrick blurted. “What did Percy say about paint, Rudy?”
    “‘Follow the trail of the nail paint.’ This Antonio Franconi has got to be our man. Jeremiah, let’s go back to the train. Find this Franconi character. You can point him out to us.”
    “Yes,” agreed Derrick. He was becoming very excited by the idea of this mission. Not only was he assisting an illusionist with his rope-tying act, he was tracking down a kidnapper. Very exciting stuff for a politician from South Pass. “We can follow him around, find out where he’s hiding Memphis Kittie.”
    “If she’s still alive,” Rudy said ominously.
    So they stood up Sideshow Jeremy, dusted him off, and left the room.
    Down in the street, however, it was a different matter. They had barely walked past the Union Pacific Depot when they were spied by a gang of rowdy Laramie citizens.
    “There he is!” yelled a roughneck, pointing at Jeremiah. “That’s the shit sack who kidnapped Kittie Wells!”
    Jeremiah clutched at his chest. “Me? Why would I kidnap a woman? Hey, you! Yes, you thug! I’m not the kidnapper you’re looking