The Bordello Kid

By Kendall Hanson

After Fat Jack Craft has been exiled from his mother's "boarding house," he must find a substitute lookout to protect the women who ply their trade for her. He discovers a tough young drifter, Farrell Gunn, who fits the bill, except for being shy and tongue-tied around women. When the drifter rescues a competing dove and convinces Jack's mother to take her in, the bordello discovers how dangerous the woman's past patrons can be. Can Farrell protect her, the other girls, and the boarding house, or will he be forced to flee for his life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kendall Hanson
• Release date: Aug 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781929516292

Book preview

1

Fat Jack Craft stood looking over the saloon door, cradled his shotgun, and watched his mother making her way down the muddy street towards the 7 Rivers Saloon.

Mostly he liked the building’s location, just at the end of Main Street so that folks either had to go left or go right or mostly go straight into the saloon. What he didn’t particularly like was how it faced west, especially now when the setting sun would be in his eyes regardless how far he pulled his lookout rocker back into the barroom. The owner, Harvey Roskam, had fought him over that rocker, but finally gave in when Fat Jack had argued on the speed with which he could come out of the rocker versus the effort required to stand up from a chair. When you had to act fast, momentum was everything. Harvey understood that.

Now the sun silhouetted his mother as she made her way from the two-story house at the end of the street, and beyond her, he thought he saw a man walking into town carrying a saddle.

Strange, he thought, why not just put your saddle on a horse and ride into town?

Takes all kinds, he decided, and walked back to his perch in the rocking chair that sat on the little platform at the back of the bar beside the piano. All afternoon Fat Jack had felt apprehensive as though something undeniably unpleasant was about to happen. From his perch on the lookout platform of the 7 Rivers Saloon, he could see, over the bar’’s swinging doors, his mother’s small figure striding determinedly toward the saloon. If she keeps coming straight, he thought, then maybe she’ll come in and apologize.

The bar was mostly empty this time of day. Billy Lassiter and his gang of layabouts shuffled poker cards at the front table. The saloon girls working the evening shift were dealing gin hands at another table to his left. Three of the four looked up at Jack. He smiled, tilted his head forward, and touched his thumb and finger to his hat. They smiled back. He shifted the shotgun across his lap, brought the butt to his crotch, and slowly, ever so slowly, raised the barrel until it was almost pointed to the ceiling. The girls followed its progress, and when they looked back down, he mouthed the word, Boom and watched them launch into a fit of giggles. The fourth, still looking away from Jack, just shook her head.

Life was good, thought Jack, except for the little woman that was coming down the street.

At the far end of the street, the setting sun silhouetted the beanpole with a hat who was carrying a saddle, wrapping him in a glow like some of the illustrations the preacher had of Jesus. Jack wondered idly where the man’s horse had gone off to. No one in his right mind walked around Seven Rivers with a heavy load in his hand unless he was deranged. It was just too damn hot, even in late May.

His mother had almost reached the boardwalk. Fat Jack roused himself from the chair and walked over to the door to meet her. She wouldn’t set foot in Roskam’s saloon, and he didn’’t want her beckoning him to the door like some lost child.

His mother stopped at the door. Her head was barely above the top of the little doors. You have not been home for two days, she said.

I don’t want to sleep in the stable, Jack replied. It smells like horse and my lady friends don’t particular appreciate it.

Madame Craft, as she was known about town, sniffed, I suppose your boss gives you free rein to do as you will with his girls.

We’ve come to an arrangement. He takes a half fee from my pay if I spend the night with one of them. Considers it the ‘room’’ part of my room and board.

That is not something I’ll allow you at my house, Mrs. Craft said. I have a good group of girls right now who can turn a decent profit, and I won’t have you filling their heads with notions of romance when I need them to pay attention to the paying customers. A half fee for a full night? Ridiculous.

Jack shrugged. Guess I’ll stay here, then. I can’t predict what will happen. Females just naturally take to me."

Madame Craft scowled. I take that as a personal affront, Jack. Harvey just hired you to irritate me. But I am not going to sell my place, and you can tell him I said so.

He hired me because Adam Powell and his boys ran his last lookout out of town after he couldn’t face them down.

And I suppose he expects you to run roughshod over them?

They respect my abilities with a weapon, especially this shotgun. They won’t make any trouble for me.

Yes, here. But now that you are not being the lookout for my house, what will he do?

You’re the one that made me sleep in the barn.

And you are the one that keeps taking my girls upstairs and having your way with them for free. Didn’t I teach you anything when you were growing up?

If I can’t sleep in the house, in a decent bed, I’m not coming back.

There are no more beds left in the house.

Nope, there’s that bedroom up by Bess’s room. The one Martha had until she ran away with that snake oil salesman.

Mrs. Craft sighed. You know I keep that one for the patrons who can’t make it out the door. It’s part of our superior service. It’s part of what separates us from a mere brothel like Harvey maintains. I can’t give you that room.

They could sleep on the downstairs couch if they’re too drunk to get home. Better yet, stick them in the barn. Won’t hurt you to let me have that room." Jack couldn’t believe his mother could be so stubborn about so petty an issue. It was always the patrons first with her.

Your father would not be proud of how you are treating me.

His father, an itinerant preacher and part-time farmer, had been run over by a wagonload of hay in the town of Pecos when Jack was only two. His mother had been teaching at a little school, but didn’t make enough money to feed them, so when a more profitable line of work opened up, she had put her chin up and never looked back. Jack didn’’t realize until he was about twelve that his mother actually enjoyed her line of work most of the time, and given the strictness with which she tried to raise him, it had come as a shock. My father don’t figure into it, he said. I’m sure he wouldn’t care for the way either of us earn our living.

Mrs. Craft’s eyes narrowed. You will pay for that remark, my boy. Not now, but some day.

Yep, I’ll probably burn in hell.

It’ll come back to you a long time before that. But right now, I’m not going to stand here arguing with you. If you won’’t come back home and help out, then you need to find me a replacement. I depend on you, and you’ve left me stranded, just like your dear departed father.

Jack rolled his eyes. She always used that line, but he had never seen her put any emotion behind it. What do you mean?

I mean you need to find me someone to run the riffraff off and keep peace in the house so the girls can work. Someone the Powell boys and others like them will respect.

Don’t know anyone. Just me. Maybe Harvey, but I don’t think he’ll work for you, Jack smiled.

She pointed a finger at him. You just find someone, Jack Craft, or you won’t be invited back for dinner or breakfast or any other meal for that matter. And you especially won’t be invited to the parlor.

He watched his mother walk away as briskly as she had arrived. Not being invited for vittles was a serious situation. He depended on his mother’s maid, Cassie, to provide him with some of the finest biscuits and gravy and spiced beans and...

Behind him, he felt someone at his shoulder. Your mother is a fine looking woman, boyo, Harvey said as he followed Jack’s gaze. Very fine indeed. Did she say anything about selling her house to me? I’ll make her a handsome offer, and of course, there will be a place for her too.

I don’t believe she mentioned it.

Fine looking woman, Roskam said again. Knowledgeable in making a man satisfied too, I’d imagine.

Don’t imagine too much around me, Jack said.

Roskam laughed. You are a man of the world, Jack. You know no harm was meant. I hold your mother in the highest regard. Mention that next time you talk to her. And if you can persuade her to sell, well, there might be a little in it for you, too. Roskam walked away. Jack could see his mother passing the string bean with the saddle, who dropped it to tip his hat. When she had passed him, he picked the saddle up and walked toward the saloon.

As Jack turned, he could see Billy Lassiter and his gang grinning and pretending to play cards. Something strike you boys funny?

Billy laughed. Your ma ain’t never let us in her place. Says we’re a bad influence. Wonder if she’’s open to negotiating that position. Maybe I could be her lookout. Sounds like the job’s open.

Jack hefted his shotgun. Maybe you should, Billy. Just don’t let me hear about it. I haven’t had a good reason for target practice with this little joyful in a while.

Billy’s smile turned hard. Maybe you ain’t as sharp as you think, Fat Jack."

Maybe. Sooner or later, we’ll have to see. You try to be lookout for my mother, it will be sooner.

Well, that job might get old. I hear old Powell may have some work for me soon.

Jack turned his back to Billy, listening carefully and ready to spin around at any sound. Best take that work, Billy. He pointed to the fourth saloon girl at the back table who hadn’’t looked up when he made his little joke. That Kate don’t come cheap.

He turned back as he sat down in the rocker. Billy’s smile had faded completely and he sat ignoring his cards and staring at Jack who thought, just for a moment, that Billy was going to stand up and start something. He held Billy’s eyes for half a minute, but Billy finally looked back at his cards.

He expected Billy would eventually be trouble for him.

2

Jack sat back down in his rocking chair and laid his 10-gauge carefully across his

Reviews for The Bordello Kid

[jjvors_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Bordello Kid (Farr and Fat Jack) (Volume 1) by Kendall Hanson is a fine and satisfying western. Set in Seven Rivers, a very small town near Lincoln, the town has four bordellos serving the cattlemen when they come in from their drive. One day, a skinny kid walks into town carrying his saddle. Farr is his name and he interests the ever observant Fat Jack, a bordello watchman and enforcer. When Farr defeats the town bully Fat Jack gets more interested, and begins to help him.Kendall Hanson makes vivid and colorful characters and does not sugarcoat any part of the west--not the bordellos, their "doves", as the girls are called, the pimps and madam, or the cattlemen. You can smell the dust and dung of the town. He leads you through the plot to a partially satisfying conclusion.If you like westerns, this one is for you.