Dutchman and the Devil : The Lost Story (9781456612887) (17 page)

Julia picked up Weiser’s dirty bowl from the night before. A dead housefly lay feet up among the reddish stains of the tainted stew. She frowned at it with a mixture of guilt and distaste, and started toward the kitchen.

As an afterthought, Julia paused with one hand on the doorknob and said, “I almost forgot. A gent came lookin’ for you yesterday, when you was sleeping. Said his name is Gideon Roberts, an’ he thinks he knows you. I told him come back this afternoon.”

At the sound of Roberts’s name, Weiser’s head made a sharp movement of surprise — or, perhaps, alarm. Quickly recovering his composure, he raised his left hand to his temple and smoothed his hair in the gesture he used to hide unease.

His reaction piqued Julia’s curiosity. Roberts was the first stranger to come looking for Weiser. She started to ask about him, but Weiser forestalled her by closing his eyes and turning his face toward the wall.

She shrugged and went into the kitchen.

After Julia left, Weiser asked himself if Roberts was a threat. Roberts would be onto the deception the minute he walked in the door. Would he spill the beans? Weiser thought not. In his experience, every man had his price, and Roberts would be no exception. Weiser’s face relaxed and he drifted into a troubled sleep.

Two hours later, Gideon Roberts arrived at the bakery just as Julia was closing her shop for an afternoon siesta. This time, she took a closer look at Roberts, as he stood in the doorway. He was a tall man on the far side of fifty and his buckskin jacket had seen better days, but even with a slight stoop of age, he carried himself with confidence. Like a real gentlemen, he removed his wide-brimmed hat and held it in his callused hands. There was surprisingly little grey in his medium-length, light brown hair, which was neatly parted and combed back over well-shaped ears. She thought he looked like Abraham Lincoln might have with a mustache.

Julia led Roberts through the kitchen to Weiser’s storeroom quarters, watching him closely as he stood in the doorway looking at Weiser. The storeroom was dimly lit, making it difficult to discern either man’s expression. Neither man spoke. And although it was more than twenty years since he had seen this man, Roberts knew right away he was Jake Weiser, not Jacob Waltz.

Their silence, combined with Weiser’s earlier reaction to Roberts’s name, confirmed Julia’s suspicion something fishy was going on. She turned, leaving them staring at each other, but instead of going upstairs, she went to the far side of the kitchen and hid behind the stove.

As he entered Weiser’s room, Roberts glanced back the kitchen, failed to see Julia hiding behind the stove, but closed the door anyway and moved slowly toward the cot.

The instant she heard the click of the latch, Julia slipped off her shoes and tiptoed back to the storeroom door, pressing her ear against it.

As Roberts approached the cot, the man lying there raised his left hand to his temple, turned his head slightly to the right, and passed his hand lightly over his thinning hair. As he did so, a clump of his hair fell to his shoulder, but neither man noticed it in the dim light.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Roberts protested. “Where’s Waltz?”

“Shush!” Weiser said quickly. “These folks think I’m him.”

“You ain’t answering my question,” Roberts snapped, lowering his voice slightly. “Where the hell is Waltz?”

Weiser knew it was no use lying to Roberts. “Sit down an’ I’ll tell you.”

Roberts sat down warily on the orange crate next to Weiser’s cot and crossed his arms on his chest. “Go on.”

“Waltz and I had a great little mine back in the Bradshaw Mountains,” Weiser began. “We was doing fine until a beam give out an’ the shaft caved in while Waltz was down there digging.”

Roberts snorted and said, “That sounds suspiciously like what happened back at Grass Valley, only that time Waltz was saved when I come along. I knew at the time you meant to leave him, but there was no way to prove it.”

“You’re wrong!” Weiser protested, leaning forward. “It wasn’t like that.”

Roberts’s voice rose, overriding Weiser’s protest. “Don’t even try to fool me, Weiser. You tried to kill Waltz before, an’ this time you succeeded! And God knows how many others you killed in-between.”

Instead of speaking, Weiser doubled up as a sharp pain struck his gut. His face twisted as he waited for it to pass.

When Weiser straightened up, Roberts leaned forward and repeated, “So why are you pretending to be Waltz?”

“Keep your voice down an’ I’ll tell you,” Weiser said quickly. “I took his name because all our claims is registered to Waltz.” Putting his hand solemnly on his heart, Weiser looked directly into Roberts’s eyes. “An’ that’s the truth, so help me God.”

Roberts burst out laughing. Weiser’s story was a poor excuse for murder but there was no way to disprove it.

When Roberts’s mirth subsided, Weiser cut to the chase and said bluntly, “So, what’ll it take to buy your silence?”

“What do you have to offer?” Roberts responded.

“All I have here is a candle box full of gold nuggets, an’ I swear to God they’re the purest gold you ever set eyes on,” Weiser said. “I’ll give you half to keep your mouth shut.”

Roberts’s eyes narrowed as he said, “Stop calling on God an’ show me the gold.”

“It’s under my bed,” Weiser said. “I’d get up an’ show you, but I ain’t feeling so hot this afternoon. You’ll have to pull it out yourself.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Roberts said, keeping a close eye on Weiser as he squatted down and gave the box a tug. It was heavier than he expected. Was Weiser telling the truth? More likely this was some kind of trick and the box was full of bricks and a scorpion’s nest. He raised the lid cautiously.

To his astonishment, it really was full of gold nuggets.

He took one from the box, testing its weight. Roberts knew ore and he had to admit this was superior to any he’d seen in a long time — worth taking the chance of working with Weiser. Raising his voice for the benefit of anyone who might be eavesdropping, Roberts winked and said, “I don’t know how I could of thought you was Weiser. It must of been the light!”

“See for yourself, Roberts. Take one of these nuggets an’ get it assayed,” Weiser said.

“All right,” Roberts replied. “If they’re as rich as they look, we might be able to make a deal.”

From her listening post on the other side of the door, Julia heard the old man offer to give the newcomer gold he’d already promised to her. Her face contorted with fury. She clenched her right fist, shook it threateningly at the unseen conspirators on the other side of the door, and hissed, “You dirty, no-good, double-dealing bastards! You can’t get away with my gold!”

Back in Weiser’s room, Roberts wasn’t done bargaining, “Half this gold is a mighty good offer, but it ain’t good enough to buy my silence, Weiser. You an’ me both know looking for your mine without a map is like looking for a needle in a haystack. You’re gonna have to give me a damn good map to keep my mouth shut!”

“An’ if I don’t?” Weiser said softly.

Roberts’s face was usually as expressive as a hunk of rock, but now his clear greenish-brown eyes became slits of greed. Leaning forward, he said, “Hear me good, you cheating sonofabitch, you give me a map, a damn good one, or I’ll tell the world you killed Waltz an’ been pretending to be him all these years!”

Weiser could have argued, but turning a blind eye to his present condition, he thought, “I still got it in me for one last kill. Nobody gets the jump on Jake Weiser, not in this lifetime! I’ll take Roberts to my mine, all right, but as soon as he’s in there stealing my gold, I’ll whack him with my shovel and bury him alongside his old buddy Waltz.”

Playing coy, Weiser arched his left eyebrow and said, “How do I know I can trust you?”

Roberts’s smug smile was so big it showed his teeth, which were pretty good for an old guy, and said, “Do you have a choice?”

Weiser laughed and said, “I’m just teasing. You won’t need no map because I’m coming with you.”

Roberts narrowed his eyes. Weiser didn’t look strong enough to get on a horse, much less ride into the mountains. “How soon can you leave?” Roberts temporized, not wanting to offend Weiser and lose this gold.

“I can go tonight,” Weiser replied calmly. “There’ll be enough moonlight for us to sneak out an’ be halfway there by midnight.”

Hoping Weiser had been faking weakness — it wouldn’t have been the first time — Roberts agreed to buy food and come back later.

“I don’t want Julia to know I’m leaving,” Weiser cautioned. “You better come back after dinner, when she thinks I’m asleep. An’ come in the back door.” He pointed to it.

Unnerved by what she’d heard, Julia’s heart beat faster as she ducked behind the stove and waited for Roberts to leave. She couldn’t wait to tell Charlie about what she’d heard. Roberts hurried past and let himself out onto the street. She half expected the old man to appear, too. When he didn’t, she walked carefully to his door and listened for sounds of activity. She didn’t hear any; he was probably in the latrine.

She hung a CLOSED sign in the window, locked the door, and dashed up the stairs. In her hurry to tell Charlie what she’d overheard, she forgot to pick up her shoes as she ran through the kitchen.

Weiser felt stronger than he had in weeks. Roberts and the chance to go back to his mine gave him a new lease on life. He looked for his boots, but couldn’t find them. He called for Julia, expecting her to be in the kitchen, and was miffed when she didn’t answer. “Where the hell is that woman when I need her?”

He padded into the kitchen, his bare feet quiet on the new linoleum floor. He stopped, distracted for a moment by how good the new floor felt under his feet. He remembered how he had protested when Julia asked him to pay for it — that woman certainly knew how to spend money.

As he looked around, he saw Julia’s shoes beside the stove. “That’s odd,” he thought, wondering why she would leave her shoes in the kitchen. “Aha,” he thought, “she must have taken them off to tiptoe undetected outside my door and listen in on my conversation with Roberts.”

His nose began to drip. He wiped it with the back of his hand and saw blood. He sucked in his breath, stopping the drips temporarily, and took one of Julia’s kitchen towels to stanch the flow. His rising anger gave him strength to keep going.

The bakery was empty, closed for afternoon siesta, and its shades drawn against the afternoon sun. Holding the borrowed towel to his nose, he padded softly past the bakery and heard the murmur of voices upstairs. He was alarmed by Julia’s tone, enough to make his way to the stairs and listen.

The voices became clearer, and he heard Charlie say, “Get it done today.”

“Get what done?” Weiser wondered.

Julia’s voice was still too soft to discern her reply. Determined to eavesdrop on their conversation, Weiser took a firm hold of the handrail and started to ascend, treading lightly on the outer edge of the steps to keep them from creaking.

Halfway up, he heard Charlie say, “Was I wrong about you?”

Weiser’s foot slipped. He grabbed the handrail to keep from falling and froze, feeling like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.

The voices stopped.

Sweat trickled down Weiser’s face and tickled his spine as he stood still as a statue.

He heard the grandfather clock’s “tick, tock,” and started to count the seconds.

His left foot quivered with the exertion of standing stock-still. He was on the point of collapsing when the voices resumed.

Weiser clung to the banister and worked his way to the top of the stairs as he listened to Julia argue with Charlie.

And he heard Charlie say, “But, nothing,” in a mocking tone. “What’s the matter with you, woman? I thought you was in a hurry to get rid of the old boy, an’ get your hands on his gold.”

Frozen in place, Weiser heard Julia reply, “Of course I am!”

“Well, it don’t look that way to me,” Charlie said, overriding her protest. “I thought you was ready to get yourself fashionable dresses an’ expensive jewelry ...,” he paused and lowered his voice, “an’ I thought you wanted to flaunt your wealth in front of those rich bitches who treat you like dirt.” Going on, he said. “I thought you wanted to get even with the women who treat you like a slave, an’ look the other way when their husbands pinch your round little ass.”

“I want all those things,” Julia retorted, “an’ more than anything else, I want to be rid of the old man. He’s disgusting. I hate the way he smells, I hate being anywhere near him. An’ I especially hate the way he keeps trying to touch me. He’s creepy, an’ I want him to be dead!”

“That’s my gal,” Charlie said. Weiser could hear the rustle of their movement, the sound of kissing, and Charlie crooning, “You’re gorgeous when you’re angry!”

Weiser put his hands to his ears, almost losing his balance as he tried to block out their voices. They made him want to puke. How could he ever have thought he had feelings for this murderous slut? Righting himself, he clung to the banister and lurched down the stairs. “It’s true,” he thought. “My suspicious of Julia are true. She’s killing me with rat poison. My body ain’t betraying me: Julia is.”

His gut in turmoil, Weiser staggered to the latrine, half-falling as he pulled his pants down and sank gratefully onto the wooden seat. “She’s killing me, she’s killing me,” echoed in his fevered brain.

“She hates me and she’s going to kill me tonight. Not sometime in the distant future, but within the next few hours.”

He steadied himself by grabbing the latrine’s door handle and hanging onto it until his dizziness passed. “I’ve got to get hold of myself,” he thought, “and figure out what to do if I’m going to get out of here alive.”

His gut emptied, Weiser pulled up his pants, dragged his suffering body back to the storeroom, and collapsed on his cot. Blood began to gush from his nose, and, for the first time, he was forced to consider the possibility he was wrong about being in control of his destiny. There might be no future in his future, not even one more trip to his mine.

Pushing these thoughts aside, Weiser realized that he still had one trick up his sleeve. Make that two. “I can keep Julia from getting my gold,” he thought, “and I can keep the rest of the world from finding out where my mine is, with one stroke of genius!”