Chapter 9
Chapter 9: Bullets, Kisses & Near Misses
1873
Sure enough, Stew's advice had proven true again. "Always stay open to unexpected opportunities." He often repeated.
Lottie had been the proverbial opportunity, and she was suddenly on “the list.” Alvin's outlaw list. But he was hesitant to tell Meagher about her just yet, just in case he was wrong about her. He was getting more and more confident that he had been wrong, but not smart wrong. It was just plain rooster blindness.
Lottie never sent him a note, and he was glad of it. He had not even seen her around, and that allowed him to start thinking straight again. Meanwhile he had written Pauline and told her about his enterprise in Wichita, and how well it was going, but he neglected to mention that he was also a Pinkerton operative. She would only worry, and she would accuse him of getting back into a lawman's life. Which was kind of true, but it was the best he could do to fortify his new business and build up his bank account so that they could marry. And that sounded reasonable to him.
He was about to take a day off and go fishing, when Lottie hopped into his studio one morning. She was as bright as the sun.
“Hello Precious Alvin!” Lottie spoke to him more congenially than ever before.
“Lottie! What a treat! You are a sight for sore eyes...” Sadly, Alvin meant every word of it. Alvin was not the hugging type, so she came to him, glowing and irresistible and gripping his tensed biceps, pulled up to his mouth and kissed him, leaving no doubt about what she intended.
“Johnny is in jail in the Indian Territory... Or at least that's what his friends say. He was caught by the Choctaw Lighthorse police with a string of Government horses. They had been stolen from the Osage, who took him down and turned him over to an Osage judge in some place called Huskypaw... or somethin' like that.”
“It's Pawhuska- and they have their own kind of law down there. The eye-for-an-eye kind.” Alvin warned.
“Yeah. They will probably hang the poor bastard.”
“Exactly. And you seem so... brokenhearted.” Alvin shot with sarcasm. She ignored him. Alvin used this opportunity just as had been planned before he left Kansas City, and began to prepare several sheets of tin. It was time to get her in front of his camera!
“Anyway, he might be extradited back to Kansas," She opined with ambivalence. "Either way, he's all tied up... and maybe- I'm free.” Lottie stood at her most erect and graceful pose, like a fashion illustration in a magazine. She was not pleased with Alvin's seeming lack of notice. “Do you like my dress?”
“Love it.” Alvin said with perfunctory curtness, as he pointed to his velvet bench in front of the camera. “Let me take your picture.” Lottie squealed like a school girl and ran to the bench and sat down obediently. “I'm clay in your hands.” She oozed like melting butter. But the moment she sat down, Alvin knew that everything between them had changed. She was now the enemy. He was the lawman. Or so he tried to tell himself.
So the dance of intrigue began.
“No silly, not like that,” Alvin bossed, and not too nicely, “Face this way, towards the window. and turn your head slightly towards the camera.” Lottie did everything just as directed.
“So beautiful- such a shame.” Alvin talked more to himself, he had no idea where his dialogue might go.
“What?”
You have excellent posture, you don't need the brace at all. That's good right there, now hold that position- wait while I...”
Lottie watched as Alvin loaded the camera with a full sheet, and adjusted his lenses. He took out the single lens and put in the four-lens multiplier.
“Now, I want you to relax- suck air into your lungs and hold it. hold your head up- more... more if you can.” Then a blinding flash filled the room.
Lottie was getting visibly perturbed. “I had no idea pitcher makin' was so bothersome!”
Alvin had become adept at making the drudgery of posing for a portrait as painless as possible, by distracting his subjects. When Lottie began to get grumpy, he already knew how to turn on the spigot.
“It's not that bad. Let's do another, just to make sure.” He said with conjured enthusiasm as he pulled out the tin and put another one in. He knew he had better start engaging with her on a personal level, or lose her.
“Lottie- how's your gambling coming along?”
“Not so well, the Earps won't let me in the high stakes games. Really not any of them. They keep trying to... hire me. For other things.” She started to slump, and Alvin made her straighten up.
“Head up... that's better. Now, think of going to the horse races with your papa.”
“Why?”
“Just do it”
“What if I don't want to?”
“Then think about when you and that lady were swigging whiskey on the stage, with four thirsty men watching.” Lottie broke up, laughing with hilarity.
“Never mind.” Another blinding flash, worse than the first one.
“That was a good one. Lottie, how are you making it? You said you needed Johnny, he's in jail, how are you...”
“Don't press me Alvin. You don't want to know.”
“Are you working for the Earps?”
“You'll find out sooner or later.” Lottie stood as if she was about to slug him. Mad because he ruined her visit with questions. “But you will never understand.”
“Probably not, so tell me anyway.”
She walked towards the door, wanting badly to escape the words she had avoided now for weeks. “I can't.”
“Sure you can, just spit it out. You're a whore.”
Strangely, it was as if Alvin had put out a fire in her hair, and she plopped down again, this time in a waiting chair at the entrance. “I'm a whore.”
“There, that wasn't so bad.”
“I didn't want to tell you, for you to even know. When I was with you those days on the stagecoach and the train, I felt like a different person- respectable, clean like you. And suddenly I knew that I would rather be. And I wanted you as a friend, somebody who could make me feel better when I get lonely, or blue, and I knew that you would not want me if you knew.”
“Who says?” Alvin kneeled down so he could be eye to eye with her, not wanting to be looking down at her. “Lottie we are friends. And so long as you are honest with me, we will stay that way.”
“I don't deserve a friend like you.” She hugged him and pecked him on the cheek.
“Your tintypes will be ready next Wednesday- in the afternoon. I have about ten minutes to process these plates, and then I'm going fishing! But Lottie, before you leave, Let me just say this...”
“No, don't say anything, I know what you are going to say. Save it for a girl who is worth talking to. I think I remember you mentioning a plantation belle named Pauline?”
“That I did. In fact I can't stop talking, or thinking about her.”
“I know cowboy, an' that's why you're gonna be lonely tonight.”
Alvin did not know what to make of the interlude with Lottie, except that they were both two lonely people, and they were naturally attracted to each other, but it was an unfamiliar attraction, something beyond sexual. She came, he took her picture, the truth came out, and now he could go forward, and be glad he had not fallen in love with her. Or at least he hoped he hadn't. And now he might have to betray her. Being a spy made him hate himself sometimes.
Just as he blew Lottie's perfume from his nostrils, in came a tall handsome customer, stepping sheepishly into the studio, as if he might be lost. “Mr. Payne... I want to have some portraits made... and your being here saves me a trip to Emporia! I'm Ed Masterson.” They shook hands and immediately Alvin sensed he was talking to a gentle soul.. a good man, and an earnest one... but a strong and commanding figure, nothing what he expected after hearing about his family from Marshal Meagher.
Ed Masterson
“Masterson, yes, I believe I have heard the name.”
“Is this a good time?” Alvin nodded in the affirmative and swept his hand towards the sitting chair.
“Just have a seat right here... Mr. Masterson. You are so tall, I don't recommend a full body portrait. Just give me a few minutes.” Alvin yelled as he stepped into his dark room.
“Never the less... that is what I want.” Masterson argued loudly. “So I have to ignore your advice- I need the tintype to illustrate my size. This is for a job I am seeking, where that might matter.”
Alvin quickly processed Lottie's plates, and returned in just a few minutes. During the sitting Masterson went on to explain. He and his brothers had been buffalo hunting, but the animals were getting scarce in Kansas, and wanting to take better care of his parents, and even start a family of his own, he decided to seek a job in law enforcement. He intended to send letters of inquiry around, with his photo.
Alvin found his scheme intriguing, but doubted that it would be effective. In fact, he would have advised against his entry into the profession, given his own experiences. Still, he was in the business of making photographs, not career counseling. He knew from experience that the most important element in getting a job was being at the right place- at the right time.
“Of course,” he admitted, “I will hand out some to family- so I need maybe ten in all. This was Bat's idea, he says that jobs are in short supply, with this “economic panic” going on all over the country, 'from Wall Street to the wilderness'; prices for hides are dropping, but crime has been rising- and there will be lots of demand for a good man with a gun.”
“Yes Sir, there certainly will, and I wish you lot's of luck.” Alvin agreed. Indian Territory anarchy and American civilization were coming to a violent crossroad. And the Pinkertons it seemed, had put him right at the intersection.
That crossroads was much more imminent than Alvin could have imagined. Forces from two opposite ethical poles were about to meet on the plains of the West.
Hurricane Bill's invasion of the Indian Territory had met little difficulty since its inception, and was expanding daily. His rustling empire had combined several causes into an efficient albeit cruel niche which could only have been conceived from the bowels of the "Bad Place." The U. S. Cavalry was always in need of fresh horses, as was the growing population of western Kansas. At the same time, greedy and racist White predators relished in the wanton butchery of Indians. Many were army deserters, who would be prosecuted if they went back into society, and they chose the peculiar security found within the eye of the hurricane.
Outlaws, many of them Civil War survivors whose consciences had been destroyed, had no qualms about killing and robbing Red or White-skinned people to subsidize their rapacious wanderings. So Bill just sewed the two groups together, and organized a black market of horses, wagons and all the second-hand tack the region could consume... Not to mention the many buffalo robes they took as they plundered...
Moonlight was quite useful to eyes adapted to it. On this particular night, the plains ravagers had surrounded a small encampment of Arapahos who had been searching for buffalo. As usual, the Indians had strayed beyond the reservation, as hunger and determination drove them further and further into forbidden territory. Having ridden long hours and eaten only bits of pemmican, they slept hard on the ground as the sweet night sounds of spring coming to life filled their dreams.
A signal was given and a dozen men stood up in an arc, just beyond the reach of the light from the Arapaho's dying campfire. Then a shot, and then perhaps fifty deafening shots exploded into the night, and a blue smoke filled the arc. A few Arapaho men sat up and grabbed their weapons, but never found an enemy to aim at through the cloud which engulfed them. They were shot before they could aim their rifles. And then all was quiet.
The man hunters emerged out of the black of the prairie and took everything of value, which was mostly the guns and knives and ammunition. Others in their party had already been stealing away with the thirty-plus horses, as the guns went off. There was a worn-out wagon in the camp but they assessed it as unsellable and set it afire. Several men went to work, taking Arapaho relics, such as shields, lances, tomahawks and headdresses. One savagely took the warrior's scalps and tossed them in a bag of salt.
“Who burned the wagon?” Jack Gallagher asked defiantly.
“Joe Queen-” Answered Apache Sam, “but there weren't no buffalo hides, I looked. Just'a bunch'a nasty vermin skins... an' some buffalo meat goin' bad... it was pretty rank.”
“Another damn bust. I'll be damned if these Injuns aren't doin' worse than the hunters. I figured they'd be loaded down. YA'LL LOOK AROUND!” Gallagher ordered. “Forget about souvenirs, an' see if they didn' hide some hides somewheres, they do that sometimes.”
Then the murderous throng sat around the fire and had breakfast. Bacon, coffee, and some biscuits made in a dutch oven. They had the satisfaction of combining emotional gratification with commerce; doing jobs they loved and were good at. America would thank them some day, and the army would be the first in line. But they did not tarry, or get bogged down with smugness, as they were anxious to turn their prizes into cash. Most of them returned to the "Pole Cat Ranch" in the Nations, while about six of them peeled away from the main group and drove the Indian ponies into Dodge City. There they would turn them over to Hurricane Bill's agent, "Bully" Brooks, and he would remove the bloodstains from their operation, and turn the spoils into money- cash for whiskey and whores and gambling, and everything wonderful to men about the American West.
It was true that Johnny Golden had been arrested, but it was also true that he had friends in the Nations who were deputies and “lost track” of him while transporting him to Ft. Smith. Somehow he had escaped, and fled the Indian Territory and ended up in Wichita a week after Alvin last saw Lottie. So Alvin was quite stunned when the two of them bounced into the studio, wanting to have a wedding picture made. Alvin was gracious, Johnny was clueless, and Lottie was ruthless. They were dressed in very expensive clothes; him in an ill-fitting suit and tie, her in a long white gown, and they made a very handsome couple. Alvin acted as if he barely knew Lottie. He had no idea what Golden knew, or how jealous he might be if he did... So he did his best impersonation of a carefree photographer in the Wild West, a veritable egghead artiste. Lottie seemed to be distracted, acting somewhat disoriented. She had not come to make a portrait, but to ruin one, and steal another. She snooped around as Johnny talked prices, and sizes, and time frames.
Finally Alvin broke loose to question her. Before he could do that, she had already found her tintype from the week before, in an envelope with her name on the outside. She looked up just as he saw her stuff it in her low-cut wedding dress. She knew Alvin would not cause her any trouble. Johnny, after all, was a dangerous man. And there was no need on his part to fight about it, Alvin had seven more just like it.
If she did not have the money to pay him for the 6th plate tintype, he knew they could not afford the full sheet Johnny was trying to bargain for. What was going on? Lottie suddenly grabbed Johnny's hand and dragged him to the velvet portrait bench, and showed him how to sit.
“See, the man always sits and the bride always stands, though you'd think it was the other way around. You didn' think I knew about such things!”
“That's right!” Alvin was chuckling, yet impressed. But in this case she was wrong. It had more to do with having the tallest person sit, and the shortest person stand, which automatically brought their faces closer together. This arrangement allowed for close-ups. But in this case, Lottie was slightly taller than Johnny. Alvin decided not to argue, and risk upsetting either of them, as she might not want to emphasize to the small man that she was taller, and he might not want to hear it. Besides her dress would show off better if she stood.
At the moment, Johnny was just happy not to be staring at four walls in the Indian Territory, so he would have agreed with anything. He was erect, stretching to make himself look taller, and ready with his most noble expression long before it was time. Lottie held some silk flowers as if they were fresh from the garden, and began to boss Johnny. “Sit up straight... hold your head up- higher.”
Johnny did whatever she suggested. He seemed quite possessed with her, or possessed by her. She commandeered Alvin's studio as if she was in charge, chatting and bossing and pretending that everything was wonderful. Then she grabbed her nose... and suddenly began to sneeze, over and over... she shook almost convulsively, and it was an explosion of her once beautiful get up... her hair came undone, her veil fell off, she dropped the bouquet and stepped on it in the commotion. Johnny tried to help her hold together, but it was no use. Alvin watched in disbelief, and began to think the whole thing was some kind of ruse.
“Goldie” she sighed. “Goldie sweets, I need a drink, go get me a bottle from the Gin parlor down the street.” Johnny was gone in a flash, the little jockey could move with or without a hot horse. “Alvin!” She loudly whispered. “I had to get rid of him... I can't marry hiiiiim!”
“Then why in God's name are you here Lottie?”
“I... I didn' know what to do. I guess I thought that if we got down here, he would get butterflies in his stomach and back out, or something, he always has- but that ordeal down in the Nations changed him. I think he actually wants to settle down!”
“Lottie... you always know what to do- but in this case, maybe you should think about it. Maybe you two could make a go.” Alvin was succumbing to conventional wisdom, such as “birds of a feather.”
“No- I can't Alvin. I'm already married. I married a guy up in Topeka about two years ago. He had been my...”
“Pimp?”
“They just say "Pi" here in Kansas. Kind of softens it. Yes damn it, my PIMP!”
“And his name was...”
It doesn't matter, but Alvin please understand, I was young and I knew I was pretty, an' they tell me now that I never had to take that road.. But listen to me, I was too young to understand what looks can do for a person like me in society, and once you're in it- it's like a wolf trap. You go in hungry, then spend the rest of your life with regrets. And I would chew off my foot to get out of it. But he is still around and he is a murderer and a thief and...”
“He calls himself Billy Bowlegs.”
“How did you know that?” Lottie gasped in astonishment.
“Talk around town.”
“That's not his real name, but he is an Indian outlaw. He's killed a lot of men. But he was my protection in Topeka and Emporia- an' K.C. I had been wandering around, up in Chicago, Detroit, tried being a hotel madam. And got in trouble up there, and he helped me hide. And then I found out what he was really like, and- Johnny knows him. Johnny stole me away. If they meet up- they will fight to the finish. And I don't want that. Actually... I can't stand either one of 'em. But I don' want any blood on my hands.”
“God, you're a real piece of work." Alvin sighed. "Lottie since you have told me all of this... Remember when you had a tussle with Bowlegs in Topeka?”
“Yes, but how do you...?”
“That was me who knocked him loose.”
“NOOOO! YOU'VE KNOWN ALL ALONG!” Lottie laughed and then suddenly mistook his secret as a betrayal of some sort, and started hitting and slapping Alvin with rage. How DARE he follow her, meddle in her life, keep such secrets from her. He grabbed her wrists, and held them firm, but she continued to shake her arms violently, and they both began to sway under her power.
“Stop! Lottie, Johnny will be coming back soon- You gotta leave alla' that behind.”
Lottie would not stop, she had become hysterical, so full of love and hate for one man; crying and wild she wrestled to get free, and Alvin would have loved to have let go, but he had no idea what she might do.
Johnny came bouncing in with a bottle of gin as they wrestled, and when Lottie saw him, she stopped immediately and said “Thank you sir, that was some kind of bug in my haaaair. I thought I would go crazy! Thanks for getting him!” But her quick reversal was not convincing, even to Johnny Golden.
“What's goin' on here?”
Alvin was speechless, and again, Lottie was ruthless.
“YOU TWO... you know each other.” Golden began to convert his private suspicions into public assumptions- as Alvin shook his head in the negative. But Lottie fell back on her favorite and most reliable escape hatch, pitting men against one another.
“That's right Johnny. I thought you had abandoned me. He has been a good friend!”
“I'll bet!” Johnny dug behind his waistcoat and slung out a seven inch blade, ready to cut Alvin down to his size. “What kind of friend mister? I'll bet you was just like a long lost brother, you sonovabitch, I'm gonna gut you like a catfish!” Alvin stood motionless, scanning around for anything to defend himself with.
“Johnny no, PLEASE, don't ruin our wedding day!” Lottie begged sweetly.
Alvin was calculating how he might get to his revolver, which was hanging in his closet. He suddenly had an idea. It was a long shot- but all he had on short notice. Like he just said, Lottie always knew what to do, and now he was gambling his life on it.
“Lottie... we have proof don't we? That nothing happened between us, you know what I'm talking about!”
Lottie walked to the closet door, having no idea what Alvin was talking about. But she opened it prayerfully. Alvin's handsome pistol was in its holster, hanging on the door where Johnny could not see. She made that smile that was not a smile, and slipped it out. A girl like her knew how to use a gun like that. “Ohhhh, yeah, I seeeee...” She assured as she cocked the hammer and pulled it out for Johnny to see.
Johnny Golden stared in disbelief. “What?” What was she doing with a gun, and whose side was she on?
“YERGONNA WHAT? He did no such thing, Goldie. I'm a whore and I should know... since you did steal me from Bowlegs.”
Put it down... one... two... three...I'm countin' to ten.”
“Nine... TEN!”
“YOU SKIPPED ONE, YOU WANNA KILL ME DON'TCHA!” Golden sheathed the knife and stormed out of the studio. “THAT was a long ride for nothin!” He yelled as he kicked the dirt in the street.
Lottie broke out laughing as he fled. She looked to Alvin to share the humor.
Lottie and Alvin stared at each other, frozen for a moment, sweat dripping down their foreheads. They would not relax until Golden was out of sight. Then Lottie grinned and joked, “There- so now we are EVEN!” Alvin glanced at her unamused.
He watched Golden disappear, then tore into Lottie. “How did you... that sneeze attack...?”
“I yanked a nose hair- does it evertime. a whore has to have a way out of things sometimes.”
“Incredible. You were hanging all over me- on purpose, weren't you?”
“And you have to have a plan if the first one doesn't work.” She confessed nonchalantly. “Now listen Alvin, I know him- He'll be back. He'll getta gun, and he'll be back shortly to save his pride.” Lottie had no doubts, but now she had no more ideas. She now looked to Alvin to fix the situation. That's what her pimps always did.
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