Colorado Sam (18 page)

   He was terribly hungry and wanted to sleep forever. But he was too churned up to sleep a wink, and his thoughts turned, as they inevitably did now whenever he was alone, to Laura Payne. She was always with him, lurking in the back of his mind, a vision of raven hair, tawny skin, and violet eyes so real and inviting he wanted to draw her against him and kiss her. It pained and haunted him that the imprisonment of her father would create an impenetrable barrier between them. How could she ever swallow her pride and admit the father she loved, and who doted upon her, was a common thief? How could she love a man who helped make a mockery of all that was important and dear to her? 

   Nathan's mother had claimed true love knew no defeat, but he no longer heeded such sentimental tripe. He had been childish in ever believing anything so naïve and devoid of truth. Life, he was learning, ran its own course, and you went where it took you, hanging on to its halter strap, trying your best to survive the bucks and jerks that beset you. Life, he was learning, could be as mean and disappointing as it was grand and exhilarating. Life, he was learning, drove you to seek the embrace and assistance of your maker. 

   So Nathan Tanner, alone and fearing an uncertain future, fingered the cold metal of his pistol and prayed, both for himself and for those in need of him.  

   Burt Dawes returned within the hour with Ellie Langston, and following Ira's instructions, Nathan made sure who was knocking before opening the door of Mr. Ming's room. The scarecrow doctor fixed her owlish eyes on him and said, “I left a very sick child. Am I to see a patient or a corpse? I can't tell which it is from the ramblings of your friend here. I‘ve never had a live patient brought to me in a coffin.”

   Nathan decided it was better to show her rather than try to explain the situation, and he simply said, “This way, please.”

   As soon as she sighted the wounded Alana, Ellie Langston shucked her black, oiled coat. When she lifted the quilt covering Alana, she remarked, “Don't know whose work it was, but that's a decent job of bandaging.”

   Opening her black satchel, she placed a scalpel and pair of scissors next to Alana. “Mr. Tanner,” she asked over her shoulder, “describe the wound.” 

   “Bullet struck her left side between her hip and ribs. Mr. Westfall judged it passed through her body without hitting any bones.”   

   “Was she hit from the front or the rear?”

   “The front.”

   “All right, Mr. Tanner,” Dr. Langston said, unrolling Alana's bandages, “I'm going to need plenty of hot water, not boiling, but hot. You fetch the water from the well out back and the Chinaman can heat it on his stove. It pays me no mind that Mr. Dawes was ranting about how you don't want people knowing this woman is alive. If anybody asks, say their loony female doctor is cleaning up a lady for burial. Trust me, that'll satisfy them right proper. Now, get moving.”

   It required a full hour for Ellie Langston to treat Alana's wound. The smell of a disinfectant as harsh and eye watering as carbolic acid permeated Alana's room. Nathan fetched three pails of water, which Mr. Ming delivered piping hot. 

   When Ellie Langston emerged from Alana's room, black satchel in one hand, black, oiled coat in the other, the scarecrow's features were drawn and her expression somber enough for a funeral. “I cut away torn flesh, scoured the wounds, applied new bandages, and dosed her with laudanum. She's resting comfortably for now. If she so much as tries to stand for a month, she's a dead woman. No more train rides, Mr. Tanner, or she'll be wearing black. You understand me?”

   “Yes, ma'am.”

   Ellie Langston shrugged into her oiled coat. “Though I don't understand your reasoning, I'll slip in and out the rear door to treat her until you tell me differently. Just remember, Mr. Tanner, spring snow lasts longer than secrets in Alamosa. If I've not learned anything else doctoring I've learned that the curiosity of God's creatures is unbounded. If your aunt seems to be worsening, send for me immediately.” 

   The lady doctor paused at the door. “I'd suggest you and your aunt could stand a little less excitement in your lives, Mr. Tanner. Good evening.”

   The doctor having departed and Alana resting comfortably, the ever-considerate Mr. Ming seized the opportunity to assuage Nathan and Burt Dawes' hunger. He warmed a concoction of chicken and dumplings on his cook stove seasoned with herbs and spices. It was incredibly delicious, and Nathan ate three bowls of it.   Afterwards, Ming served them hot tea in china cups decorated with tiny, blue hand-painted birds.

   The next knock at the door came as they finished their tea. Sam was braced at Nathan's knee, and Burt hidden behind the door with pistol drawn, when Nathan called out. Ira responded and Nathan admitted the ex-copper and Constable Allred. Sam sniffed their direction, and satisfied they were no threat, plopped in the corner nearest the hallway door.  

   One whiff of Ming's chicken and dumplings and the new arrivals accepted bowls from the Chinaman with heartfelt thanks. Both men ate on their feet, neither bothering to remove his mackinaw. 

   Burt Dawes' impatience surfaced like a striking trout. “Did you get it, Ira, did you get it?”

   Ira Westfall glared and continued to eat. He didn't speak until Ming had taken his empty bowl. “How's your aunt, Nathan?”

   “She's resting. Doc Ellie dressed her wound and dosed her with laudanum.”

   Burt Dawes was beside himself. “Damnit, Ira. Did you get it?”

   Ira blew out a big breath. “Yes, we got it. We have a bench order for the audit of Payne Merchandise by a court appointee. It wasn't easy. Judge Dodge doesn't often grant orders after the court's closed for the day, particularly when it's directed against one of Alamosa's most respected businessmen.”

   “Why'd he do it then?”

   “Lawyer Abbott insisted the judge reach the president of the Grand National Bank at home by telephone. President Hollister confirmed Josiah Pedigrew phoned him this morning requesting a letter be prepared stating he'd paid Payne Merchandise weeks ago. What clinched it was Devlin Kellerman's telegram from St. Louis stating his audit found Payne Merchandise weeks overdue on Tanner invoices, and that Eldon had ignored his partner's demands for an explanation.”

   Now it was Nathan that couldn't contain himself. “Then everything's ready for our showdown with Eldon Payne?”

   Constable Allred nodded, sat his empty bowl on Ming's small table, and wiped his mouth with a sleeve. “I thought about making a call to my day patrolman,” he said, glancing at Ira. “But I believe the two of us, along with Nathan to swear to the details, should be enough. We're delivering a bench order to Eldon, not arresting him.”

   Mr. Ming appeared in the connecting doorway. “Mrs. Tanner, she say you come, please,” the slim Chinaman said, nodding at Nathan. 

   Nathan hesitated, looking at Ira. At the ex-copper's “Make it fast,” he followed Ming into the adjoining room. 

   Alana's breathing was so shallow Nathan couldn't tell if she were alive until he was a step from her bed. He thought there might be the faintest smudge of color on her rounded cheekbones, hopefully not from fever. The corners of her mouth and eyes, where pain had recently puckered and pinched the skin, were smooth and relaxed thanks to Doc Ellie's laudanum.

   Alana clasped Nathan's fingers and drew him to the edge of the bed. “I overheard the constable and Mr. Westfall,” she said, her voice very weak, “and I won't try to stop them. But I think you're wrong about Eldon. He wouldn't have me hurt, nor abide it, ever, for any reason. He's too good a man to grovel in the dirt with the likes of the Buckmans by choice. They're holding something over him . . . something bigger than gambling debts. You've got to help him.”

   Nathan stood nonplussed, staring at her. “Help him,” he stammered. “Why, he may be as responsible for my parent's murders as the Buckmans.” 

   “No, Josiah Pedigrew was right,” Alana countered. “Eldon wouldn't resort to robbery and murder for his own gain. He's slaved too many years to risk losing Payne Merchandise for a few more dollars. He deserves a chance to explain himself. Will you promise me that?”

   Nathan couldn't deny he sincerely hoped Eldon Payne wasn't guilty of theft and conspiring against the Tanners. Yet he'd made no attempt to explain the missing   Tanner money to his partners, and he'd helped arrange the meeting with Roan Buckman the night Nathan was nearly killed in the Payne stable. Nathan just couldn't fathom how you could explain those facts away with a few fancy words or sorry excuses. But torn as he was, he couldn't refuse the wounded woman clasping his fingers. 

   “I'll listen,” Nathan managed. “I'll listen to what he says. I won't promise to believe him.”

   Alana's smile was at most a slight parting of the lips. “Thank you, now I can sleep.” 

   Ira and Constable Allred were waiting at the hallway door for him. Nathan pulled on his mackinaw. “Keep the flap unbuttoned same as before,” Ira ordered. “Burt, lock the door behind us.”

   Sam was sitting on his haunches watching all the commotion, fierce gaze trained on Nathan. “What about Sam?”

   “Burt will be fine here,” Ira answered. “Bring him along if you like.”

   Nathan didn't hesitate. In unpredictable situations that might turn violent with no warning, Sam's lack of fear and unerring obedience bolstered one's courage. At his snap of his fingers, the huge dog pushed past Ira and the constable and took the lead.

   Olney's eyes bugged when the three of them crossed the lobby in Sam's wake. Nathan would have bet another telephone call to the Buckmans was in the offing. Doc Ellie was right. Secrets in Alamosa lasted about as long as a hiccup. 

   There was no wagon or horse traffic on Hunt Street at 8:30 p.m., for the evening train had departed and most businesses closed an hour after dark. In the absence of streetlights, Hunt Street was a shadowy tunnel. 

   The few store lamps burning splashed pools of yellow light on the snow banked against the plank sidewalks. The pedestrians out and about, who could be counted on the fingers of a single hand, ignored their fellow travelers and scuttled past with coat collars raised against the cold, bound for a warm fire. It was a night that favored those evil of heart and committed to crime, and it gave Nathan the shivers.

   Ira Westfall halted at the corner of Hunt and Sixth Streets. Across the intersection, Payne Merchandise with its electric lights ablaze seemed bright as the sun in the surrounding darkness. “Bulldog, you do the talking since it's your jurisdiction. Just remember, gentlemen, Roan Buckman and Eldon Payne had plenty of time to talk by telephone. If they did, our visit will hardly be a surprise.” 

   The ex-copper adjusted the pistol in his shoulder holster. “I've confronted men of every stripe with court orders and learned the hard way not to judge in advance how they'll react. After you, Bulldog.”

   The Sixth Street door of Payne Merchandise was locked. Edgy as he was, Nathan would have pounded on the door where Constable Allred knocked politely.   Eldon Payne's clerk emerged from the office. What Giles saw first was the chunky, jowly, pug-nosed constable, whom he knew. A scowl washed across his pimply face as he tried to identify the barrel-shaped man behind the constable and failed. If he noticed Nathan and Sam, the clerk paid them no attention.

   The dead bolt slid back and the door cracked. “Yes, constable?”

   “Is Mr. Payne here?”

   “Yes, sir, he's in the office with Laura.”

   Nathan stifled a curse. He didn't want to see Laura hurt, but with three of his blood relatives dead from the bullets of hired killers, there was no time for niceties or civility. It was whip the devil or take the hindmost. 

   “Tell Mr. Payne we'd like to talk with him on official business,” Constable Allred said in a tone that indicated he expected the clerk to follow his bidding without delay. 

   Giles nodded and retreated to the office, leaving the door ajar. He was gone three or four minutes and loud voices could be heard, one of them definitely that of a female. When Giles reappeared, he opened the door wide and stepped aside. “Mr. Payne will see you now.”

   Nathan and Sam followed on the heels of Jack Allred and Ira. Nathan pointed to an area just outside the office and ordered Sam to “Sit.” The huge dog sat, growling at the trailing Giles in the process.

   Nathan was shocked at the change in Eldon Payne since his last visit. Whiskers sprouted on his normally clean-shaven upper lip and chin, his starched collar was limp, and his coat was a mass of wrinkles. In sum, he looked grizzled, tired, and downtrodden, as if the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders and he was buckling under the load. 

   Laura occupied a chair at the far corner of his desk. Had Nathan been granted a single wish from above at that moment, he would have spared her the agony of hearing her father accused of theft, and perhaps worse.

   “Mr. Payne, this is Ira Westfall, a retired policeman from St. Louis,” Constable Allred announced. “He's helping with my investigation. I think you know Mr. Tanner.”

   “Yes, we've met,” Eldon Payne said. “May I ask the nature of your business?”  

   Constable Allred slipped a folded document from the pocket of his Mackinaw. “Mr. Payne, we're here to serve you with a court order calling for an audit of your company.”

   “May I ask why the court has ordered an audit of my ledgers?”

   “Mr. Payne,” the constable said, handing the folded document to the merchant, “you owe Mr. Tanner fifty thousand dollars for equipment supplied the Pedigrew and Shelly Mining Conglomerate through your store. Judge Dodge ordered his audit upon learning Mr. Pedigrew paid you for the equipment weeks ago, yet you have refused to pay Mr. Tanner. Mr. Tanner claims you stole the money.” 

   Nathan was watching Laura Payne. She jerked as if struck across the face, glared angrily at him, and then turned to her father. “Constable, my father isn't a thief. I'm sure he can explain himself. Can't you, Father?”  

   Eldon Payne's bald head glistened with sweat. “Is Alana a party to this?”

   “No, she's not,” Constable Allred said. “I'm sorry to inform you that Mrs. Tanner was murdered in Creede earlier today.” 

   Eldon Payne's jaw went slack and his daughter gasped. “Oh, no, that can't be true.”

   “Yes, ma'am, it is. Mr. Westfall and Mr. Tanner brought her body to Alamosa for burial on the afternoon train.”

   Laura Payne sat shaking her head, not wanting to believe what she'd heard. Eldon Payne swallowed hard and asked of Jack Allred, “Do you have any idea who murdered Alana?”