Cera's Place by Elizabeth McKenna Page B

she promised, “and you’ll keep quiet and cover my tracks so Isaac don’t find out.”
    ******
    It was mid-afternoon when Jake walked into to Cera’s Place, pain radiating through his body with every step. Scattered around the saloon, a handful of customers drank and smoked, but there was no sign of Cera. Ginger was there, though, and hurried toward him, a frown marring her normally hospitable face.
    Grabbing his arm, she demanded, “Where the hell have you been?”
    Jake winced before he could stop himself. “Take it easy, Red.”
“Are you sick? Did you go drinking somewhere else yesterday?” Ginger clucked her tongue. “I didn’t figure you to be so fickle. Don’t tell her I told you, but Cera’s been watching those swinging doors like a hawk, waiting for you to come back.”
    “Damn.” He sat heavily in the nearest chair and rested his hands on his knees, one of the few body parts that didn’t hurt.
    “Oh, Lord!” Ginger gasped as the light from the wall lamp hit his face. She bent to get a better look at the bruises. “Who did this to you?”
    “I’ll give you three guesses.”
    “I only need one—Biggs.”
    “Actually, his two thugs,” Jake corrected.
    She took his chin in her hand, turning his face back and forth. “You look terrible. Can I get you anything?”
    “Just Cera, unless you think my looks will scare her away?” He tried for a smile, but it came out as a grimace.
    “Hell, no, she’s tougher than all of us put together. I’m more worried about what she’ll do to Biggs when she sees you. Good thing she’s out getting supplies with Isaac.”
    “Damn,” he repeated. “Will she be back soon?”
    Before Ginger could answer, a police officer swung open the saloon doors. The serving girl’s nose wrinkled as if the air had turned foul. “Officer Klein. I hate him,” she hissed under her breath.
    The man stood shorter than average, though his rigid stance suggested he thought himself tall. Perhaps to compensate for his baldhead, he wore a long, thick mustache, curled tightly on each end. His dove-gray uniform hung loosely on his slight build.
    As he strutted over to them, he tapped a nightstick against his leg, shooting puffs of road dust into the air. His eyes lingered on Ginger’s bosom before he spoke. “Afternoon, Miss Ginger, you’re looking well.”
    Ginger plastered a stiff smile on her face and nodded hello. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Officer Klein.”
    Klein’s eyes narrowed, obviously not believing her. Turning to Jake, he asked, “What’s your name, soldier?”
    “This here’s Mr. Jake Tanner,” Ginger offered with forced cheerfulness.
    “The man can answer for himself, can’t he?” He leaned forward, inspecting Jake. “Or is he struck dumb?”
    “No, I’m not dumb.” Jake stared back, unflinching.
    “No, your kind never is.” The officer paused, his fingers stroking his mustache. Satisfied every hair was still in place, he continued his inquisition. “What’s your purpose in town, Tanner?”
    “My purpose? Just passing through, I guess.” He kept his tone even, unwilling to let the small man rile him.
    Klein smirked at his answer. “There’s a city ordinance against vagrancy. Am I to understand you don’t have a job?”
    Understanding where the conversation was headed, Jake sighed in disgust. “Not at the moment.”
    “Hold on now,” Ginger protested. “Half the men in this saloon don’t have a job. I don’t see you harassing them.”
    Klein pointed a finger in her face. “I’m not talking to you. Keep it up and I’ll take you down to the station house. I’m sure me and the boys can find plenty of ways to shut your hole up!”
    Shocked, Ginger’s hands fisted, but Jake grabbed her wrists before she could use them. As he stood, he whispered in her ear, “It’s all right.”
    Klein shifted the nightstick in his hand, causing Jake to bark out a short laugh. “No, officer, I’m not going to give you any reason to use