Chapter 41: Drinkin' and Trouble
Stepping over the groaning man, Levi and Rufus strode into the saloon.
BAM!
Rufus kicked open the swinging doors, puffing out his chest.
Eyes snapped to him.
For a brief moment—silence.
Then—the place erupted.
Some cheered, some booed, but the ladies?
They lit up.
"Rufus, dear!"
"Honey, what took you so long?"
"Who's the handsome devil you brought? Is this Levi?!"
Levi ignored the spectacle as Rufus soaked it in, heading straight for the bar, instantly swarmed.
Instead, Levi took stock of the place.
He'd heard plenty about it, he almost felt like he'd been here before.
Heck, he could probably name half the folks working here just from description alone.
The Red River Saloon and Brothel, the heart of Denton's nightlife. The place breathed heat, sweat, and brass, packed with cowhands, drifters, and locals all looking for a drink, a game, or a warm bed for the night.
The bar stretched across the room, dark mahogany and reinforced with brass trim. A system of pipes ran beneath it, keeping drinks cool even in the worst heat. Rows of stools lined the counter, men leaning into their drinks as they talked and laughed.
The air carried the scent of whiskey, smoke, and perfume, mixing into something uniquely Red River.
The main floor was packed with wooden tables, worn smooth from years of cards and dice games. An automaton piano sat in the corner, a brass-plated steambot, playing a lively tune with mechanical precision. Every so often, it tipped its hat to the room, drawing laughs from the more easily entertained.
Women draped in bright fabrics and feathers moved between tables, their dresses layered with lace and color. Some lounged against the balcony railing of the second floor, peering down like hawks waiting to choose their prey. Others curled against patrons, whispering promises of company for the right price.
Behind the bar stood the man who ran the place—Nathan "Nate" Hargrove. Lean, bald, with a thick mustache that drooped at the ends. He moved with quiet efficiency, his Vaporguard arm pouring drinks with inhuman precision. No wasted motion. No spills. Just enough flair to keep the drunks entertained but never enough to seem like he was trying.
Levi had heard the man rarely raised his voice, never needed to. That role was filled by someone else.
And that was Mama Belle.
She stood near the stairs leading to the second floor, taking stock of the room like a queen watching over her court. Voluptuous, dressed in lace and gold, her auburn curls pinned up save for a few teasing locks that framed her face. Green eyes sharp, warm when they needed to be, lethal when they didn't.
She wasn't just the madam of the house—she was its backbone. Belle could get a drunk man to part with his last coin with a laugh and a smile, or break his pride with a single cutting remark. And when she spoke, her voice carried, that vapor-enhanced resonance making sure no one in the room ever missed a word.
Levi barely had time to soak it all in before Rufus's voice cut through the noise.
"Levi! Get over here! The ladies wanna meet ya!"
Rufus had his arm around a woman who barely had anything covering her chest—Levi could see the darker shade of a nipple threatening to break free.
Feeling good, he made his way over. As he did, he caught a few sour looks from a table in the back.
'What's their problem?'
Didn't matter. He ignored it and joined Rufus at the bar.
"Hey, Nate! Couple caps of whiskey for me and my friend here!"
"What about us, big daddy?"
One of the whores leaned in, eyes twinkling as she pressed up against him.
"Round for my girls as well!"
Levi rolled his eyes. No wonder they liked him so much—he was easy.
"So, you must be Levi."
A soft, sultry voice curled into his ear, smooth as honey. Heat crawled up his neck as the scent of perfume—something flowery, maybe vanilla—filled his nose.
He turned, finding himself face-to-face with a woman who couldn't have been much older than him. Soft brown curls, a yellow dress embroidered with red lace flowers. Her eyes locked onto his, and he did his damned best not to look down—at the generous curve of her chest, or the bare thigh she draped over his leg like it belonged there.
"Name's Daisy. Rufus tells us you're quite a tough guy. Is it true you fought Crimson Song? She didn't hurt you, did she?"
His mouth went dry. His thoughts tangled. He tried to keep his eyes where they belonged, but failed.
"Y-yes, I mean, no—w-we fought, but she didn't hurt me much."
Rufus, watching from the side, shook his head, grinning. The kid was too damn easy.
The night carried on. Drinking. Bragging. The girls laughed and leaned in, and for a little while, everything felt light.
Until Silent Dart walked in.
He didn't make a scene. Didn't even look Levi's way. But Levi knew better. The bastard kept looking over.
Mentioning it to Rufus, the man just waved it off, passing him another drink some poor sap had paid for as he continued his story.
"You shoulda heard that voice, like a damn banshee! Trust me, friend, you all had no idea how dangerous she was. She could've wiped out a whole town easy."
Levi took a slow sip, his mood sinking despite the whiskey warming his chest. That night might've been easy for Rufus. But for Levi...
But he knew dwelling on it wouldn't change a damn thing, so he did his best to push it aside and enjoy the moment. Too bad he was useless with women.
Especially the bold ones.
Daisy's hand slid up his inner thigh, her breath warm against his ear.
"You look tense, honey. Want to go upstairs? I could give ya a nice massage."
Levi tensed so hard he might've shattered. His brain turned to sludge, his mouth struggling to keep up.
"Well—uh—ma'am, I'm not sure if—uh—well, you know—"
She pressed her fingers further, teasing toward his crotch, her soft chest pushing against his arm.
"You are just too cute. C'mon, I won't bite ya too hard."
Grabbing his hand, she started pulling him up.
Rufus, watching with amusement, leaned back in his stool and gave Levi a shove.
"Go have fun, kid. I'll cover the tab."
As Levi stood, his legs moved on their own. His mind yelled at him to stop, but his body kept following.
A few whistles and drunken laughs directed at him, heat creeping up his neck. He was about to be in over his head, and he knew it. But before they reached the staircase, a broad figure blocked the way.
A man built like an ox, arms thick as fence posts, stood firm in their path.
"What're you doin', Daisy?"
His voice was rough, already slurred from drink. The redness in his face might've been the booze, but the bulging veins on his forehead told Levi otherwise. The man was pissed.
Daisy sighed, already tired of it.
"I'm working, honey. Now step aside. Let's not cause a scene tonight."
She moved to step past him, but he planted a heavy hand on her shoulder and shoved her back.
"You ain't workin' with him."
Levi had been fine walking away. Hell, he was ready to take the out, go back to the bar, and forget the whole thing. But now?
Now, he wasn't.
He stepped forward, sliding between them.
"Don't worry, she ain't workin'. Said she'd do it for free. Lucky bastard, ain't I?"
Rufus, still sitting back at the bar, nearly spit his drink. He knew this bastard—Rosco Taylor—one of the cowboys who worked the stockyards. A bully through and through. The kind of man who threw his weight around just because he could. He was tough, sure, but Rufus wasn't worried. Levi could handle himself.
Rosco's face twisted into a smirk, though his eyes said something different. He leaned in, breath thick with whiskey.
"Listen here, boy. Why don't you run on home to your momma's teat before you get hurt?"
Daisy groaned.
"Rosco, for Christ's sake, I told you already! You can't get mad when I'm workin'!"
Before Rosco could fire back, a voice rang out from the balcony above. Strong, commanding, with just enough melody to make the whole saloon quiet.
"Rosco Taylor! Do I need to remind you of the house rules? Or maybe you've just decided to ignore them?"
Miss Maribelle "Mama Belle" Carter descended the staircase, and the room fell under her spell.
Rosco straightened, but his bravado didn't last long.
"Not at all, Miss Mama Belle. But Daisy's my girl, an' I—"
Mama Belle's expression soured. The warmth drained from her face, replaced with a sharp, knowing stare.
"This true, girl? Don't lie to me."
Levi crossed his arms, irritation creeping up his spine. The hell was going on? He was pissed, confused, and more than a little embarrassed, standing there in the middle of this mess.
Daisy flinched, her fingers twisting in her dress.
"Mama Belle, I—I told him not to come when I'm workin'. I know the rules, but I—"
"Enough!"
Mama Belle snapped. Her voice cracked like a whip, silencing any excuse Daisy thought she had.
"You stupid girl..."
Before Daisy could protest, Mama Belle latched onto her ear—and Rosco's too—dragging them both like scolded children.
"One rule, girl! One simple rule, and you couldn't follow it. That's what I get for having too big a heart. I saw the signs—"
Wham!
The flapping doors banged open as she shoved them both out onto the street.
"Now out with ya!"
Levi stood frozen, blinking at the swinging doors. Well… that escalated.
With a huff, Mama Belle dusted off her hands, then turned back to the saloon with a dramatic twirl, pressing up her ample chest as she flashed a wide grin.
"Back to drinkin', ya degenerates!"
The room roared with laughter, drinks were raised, and just like that, the saloon moved on.
Levi, still trying to process, made his way back to the bar, where Rufus was already choking on his laughter.
"What the hell just happened?"
Levi rubbed his face as he sat down.
Rufus smacked him on the back, shaking his head.
"Maribelle's got one big rule for her girls—no relationships. Jealousy ain't good for business. Daisy knew better. Pretty sure Rosco was just the latest fool dumb enough to think he was special."
'The latest?'
Something about that hit Levi wrong.
The whiskey in his glass looked less appealing now. The whole saloon, in fact, looked different.
The dim glow of gas lanterns did a good job of hiding it, the grime layering every surface, the thick air ripe with sweat and unwashed sex.
The girls—so lively under the warm light—looked tired. Their painted faces masked pale, stretched skin, the powder covering sores and bruises.
"What the hell am I doin'?"
Levi glanced at Rufus, watching as the man absentmindedly scratched at his crotch—something he'd seen him do a lot.
A slow, creeping realization settled in.
Things were starting to add up.
And Levi didn't like the answer.
He pushed back from the bar, shaking his head.
"I'm gonna head out."
Rufus blinked, clearly caught off guard.
"What?! Already?! C'mon, kid, night's just gettin' started! Don't let that shit sour the fun. Hey, Eliza, come keep my boy here company!"
He waved over a curvy Mexican girl, her hazel skin and dark curls setting her apart from the rest. She smiled, sliding closer.
Levi didn't even look her way.
"Sorry, Rufus. Your life ain't for me."
Levi brushed off the grumbling and half-hearted protests, making his way toward the exit. As he moved, his eyes flicked toward the back of the saloon—Silent Dart.
The deputy sat alone, seemingly lost in thought. He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge Levi, just sat there, still as a statue.
Levi shoved through the swinging doors.
He still didn't move. Didn't say a word.
But just before the doors swung shut, Levi caught it—a smirk.
He barely had time to wonder what it meant before something else pulled his focus.
Fresh air.
He took a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. The night was crisp, cool against his skin.
"Never again."
A quiet laugh slipped out as he started back toward the orphanage, shaking his head. The buzz was already fading—his damn metabolism burned through liquor too fast to really enjoy it. But there was still enough of a buzz left for his steps to be a bit lighter.
Maybe that was why he didn't notice.
Didn't hear the boots shifting just beyond the lamplight.
Didn't norice the dark shapes waiting in the alley he had just passed.
Rosco. And he didn't come alone.