Leadville (21 page)

The longer Red took, the more my heart pounded. The only good thing was that either the sun or my shaky nerves had warmed me enough that my hands were relatively steady holding the field glasses. After what seemed like forever, I heard a cry of pain and interrupted my vigil long enough to see that Red was hurrying Maggie away from the canyon. Thank God. I returned my attention to where Bane had disappeared around the ridge of a slope. Still not seeing him, I chanced a glance back at Red and his charge, and it was obvious that Maggie was having difficulty moving. Hurry, I thought.

I was concentrating on watching for Bane, when I heard the kind of splashing that meant Red and Maggie were wading across the creek. As I looked toward them, Red called Sharp and me over with hand signals. I didn’t like leaving my blind, but Red’s hand waves were insistent. I picked up my rifle and ran as fast as I could. Sharp and I arrived at about the same time, and we all knelt down in a tight circle.

“Take Maggie to the Inter-Laken Hotel and then let the captain know she’s safe,” Red said. “Go. Now! And hurry in case I fail.”

“Fail to kill Bane?” I asked.

Red gave me a look that said I still asked stupid questions. “Go. I maimed Bane’s horses, so he’ll be on foot. When you get to our horses, take them all. I’ll walk out.”

I started to protest but realized I didn’t have a better plan. In fact I didn’t have any alternative except for all four of us to lie in wait for Bane, and my gut told me that counting on surprise could be dangerous. I looked at Maggie for the first time and saw that she was not in good condition to make a hell-bent flight down the mountain. Her face was bruised and anxious. She was pretty and—unfortunately—looked to be a delicate young girl.

Then she spoke her first words. “Let’s go. My legs will work better the further I walk.” Then instead of waiting for a response, she stood and started walking to the south.

Her father’s daughter, except the captain would never have headed in the wrong direction. “This way,” I said as I pointed east.

Without another word, she reversed her direction and limped along between Sharp and me. We each took a forearm and hurried her as fast as possible. Unless she could get her legs back, it would take us at least a half hour to get to the horses. I was more concerned about the five minutes hiking across the open meadow to the tree line. If Bane came upon the scene now, we would have no choice but to trade long distance shots.

“How long will it take Bane to quarter that deer?” I asked between breaths.

“Depends on how far he had to chase the animal before it died. Hopefully, the deer had a good run before it collapsed.”

I took a quick peek back, but I could see no sign of Red or Bane. I hoped he would find a swale on the other side of the creek so he’d have a surer shot. When I turned around, Sharp was offering Maggie pieces of rock candy, but she shook her head and pointed to his canteen. She grabbed it when offered and guzzled swallow after swallow.

As we approached the first trees, Maggie handed the canteen back and said, “I’ll take that candy now.”

As she popped a couple of pieces in her mouth, I asked, “Did Bane give you food and water?”

“Some. When I asked for more, he said he wanted me weak.”

“Here.” I offered her some jerky. “You need more than sugar.”

She nodded in agreement and started gnawing on the jerky with a mouth full of rock candy. I started to feel more comfortable now that we were hidden within the forest, but I kept my ears perked for the sound of gunshots.

By the time we arrived at the horses, Maggie was moving faster and showing almost no limp from being bound up for days. She had made a great improvement in a short period. Youth is the best healer. When she spotted her horse, she yelped with glee and ran to embrace the horse’s neck. Sharp and I both went
shush
at the same time. She nodded understanding and put her finger across her lip, but she couldn’t wipe the beaming smile from her face.

We had left the horses saddled in case we needed to make a quick escape, so it was just a matter of slipping our rifles in the scabbards and untying the reins. I turned to help Maggie up but discovered her already in the saddle. Sharp tied the reins of Red’s horse to his rear saddle ring and then used his own reins to gently whip his horse across the neck as he swung into the saddle. His horse had bolted to a full gallop before Sharp’s butt touched leather. Without instruction, Maggie chased after Sharp, and I took up the rear. All of us wanted to get down the mountain and back to civilization.

After fifteen minutes of hard riding, we slowed to a walk to give the horses a rest. I thought Chestnut could go another ten minutes or so, but we wanted the horses fresh enough for a burst of speed if needed.

“Are you taking me to my father or my mother?” Maggie asked.

“Neither,” Sharp answered. “Do ya know where ya are?”

“Free,” she answered.

Sharp laughed. “That too, but yer four days ride from yer ma, and the captain’s gotta take care of some loose ends. The men that ordered you snatched are still walkin’ the streets.”

“Then where are you taking me? That Indian said Laken something.”

“Twin Lakes,” I interjected. “Your father arranged for a couple at the Inter-Laken Hotel to care for you until he cleans up this mess. They’re both Pinkertons, so you’ll be safe, and Twin Lakes is far away from the bad people that did this.”

“I don’t know anyone at Twin Lakes. I want to see my pa. If I can’t see him, I want to go to Durango to see my ma.”

“If we take ya home, someone might grab ya again,” Sharp said. “Ya gotta give yer pa time to sort this out proper.”

She rode quiet for a few minutes and then surprised me by saying, “I’ll go. It won’t take long for my pa to kill those men.” She rode a few more strides and then added, “That man who stayed behind—he’s going to kill that bear-man, isn’t he?”

“Bear-man?” I asked.

“That’s the way I thought of him. A big, ugly bear that wore clothes.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That must have been frightening.”

“I was never afraid.”

I found that hard to believe. Then she turned in her saddle and looked at me before she said with pride, “My pa is a Pinkerton. He hunts bad men and kills them. I knew he’d rescue me.”

“Did ya pray?” Sharp asked.

She returned her attention forward, toward Sharp. “I left that to my ma’s husband. I’m sure he prayed plenty, for all the good it did.”

“We talked to your ma and pa … I mean your ma’s husband … before we left Durango,” I said. “There’s something you need to know. They think you’re dead. The townsfolk even had a funeral for you. And as much as you’d like to, you can’t send them a telegram saying you’re all right. The men who ordered this might hear about it, and that would ruin your pa’s plans to capture these men.”

“He ain’t going to capture them. My pa will kill them for taking me.”

“Ya want revenge?” Sharp asked.

“I just know my pa. He’s got grit, not like that squirrel my ma married.”

“The preacher worked awfully hard to get a posse out looking for you,” I offered.

“But he didn’t leave his pulpit, did he?” She swung around again to look at me. “Did you know the right reverend doesn’t even ride a horse? If he goes anywhere, which is seldom, he uses a buckboard.”

“So does Wyatt Earp, I hear.”

She whirled around in her saddle again. “Why are you defending him? That man back there said my pa sent you.”

“Yes, we’re friends of Captain McAllen,” I said. This was getting too complicated for me. “Sorry. I don’t want to get in the middle of any family squabble.”

“It’s not a family squabble. I haven’t spoken a cross word to the reverend in nearly a year.”

Chapter 40

The Inter-Laken Hotel looked beautiful in the late afternoon glow. It also looked warm and welcoming. Maggie had been sucking rock candy and chewing jerky all day, but I hadn’t eaten a thing since the night before. My mouth started watering when I remembered the meal I had eaten here with Captain McAllen. We had rescued the girl, got back safe, and now were about to enjoy exceptional hospitality, a warm fire, good food, and top-notch Kentucky whiskey. I loved expensive hotels.

“Pull around to the stables,” Maggie said. “That way you won’t need to tip the stable boys.”

“My treat,” I said. “Let’s get you warm and fed. Someone else can look after the horses.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, “but I do my own grooming.”

With that she spurred her horse into a canter and circled around the side of the hotel’s main building.

“Damn. You think she’s related to anyone we know?” I asked Sharp.

“She’s a McAllen all right,” Sharp said, shaking his head. “Better catch up. Her dad won’t be pleased if we let her out of our sight.”

We both spurred our horses after Maggie. After a full day’s ride over rough country, Chestnut responded like he hadn’t been exercised in a week. He loved to challenge other horses, and he had been snorting ever since Maggie galloped away. If Chestnut had been faster, I might have considered taking him to Denver to race. He ran with enthusiasm and could run forever, but most thoroughbreds would arrive at the finish line first. No, Chestnut could take almost any other horse in a long-distance race, but those kinds of races didn’t occur at fancy racetracks, or in mining towns, for that matter.

We threw up a cloud of dust as we pulled to a stop in front of the livery. Maggie had already dismounted and was leading her horse by the reins into the barn.

A stable boy ran up from the back of the barn. “Hey, hold on there, girlie. Where do ya think yer goin’?”

I realized she looked scruffy as hell. She wore buckskin pants and shirt with a coat roughly made from an Indian blanket. Her makeshift clothes were torn and dirt embedded, sweat had streaked her filthy face, and her matted hair hung in limp strands that stuck together as if glued. Despite her appearance, she threw her head and said, “I’m putting my horse away. Do you have any good brushes? She’s been worked hard today.”

“Excuse me, sis, but are ya stayin’ at this hotel?” He looked around for the livery boy that should have brought the horse around for a guest. “I’m afraid these stables are for guests only. If yer here fer the evenin’, ya can put yer horse in that there corral.”

This was the type of problem I enjoyed solving. I handed the boy a silver dollar and said, “This young lady is checking in, and she prefers to groom her own horse. Now … do you have a good brush she can use?”

“Of course, sir. There’s a clean stall about halfway down on the right. I’ll go get a set of grooming brushes.” He looked at Sharp and me. We must have looked a sight. “Are ya guests as well, sir?”

“We’re only escorting the young lady, but we’ll stay for dinner.” I handed him another silver dollar. “We need to return to Leadville tonight, so can you groom our horses, feed them oats, and have them ready in an hour or so? You can put them in the corral afterwards.”

The boy bounced the two heavy coins in his palm and then shoved them in his pants. “Of course, sir.”

Funny how—in some situations—a single dollar can get a person the same service a governor or a famous stage actor might expect. I’m relatively tight when negotiating a business deal, but I always spend a little extra when I can get the absolute best service by giving a generous tip. Service, like bourbon, is something for which spending a few more dollars lets you live as well as a king. Of course, I have enough money, so a few extra dollars never gives me pause. I suppose someone who scraps for coins in order to eat has a different attitude.

I took Sharp’s elbow and led him out of Maggie’s earshot. “I’ll help with the horses. Why don’t you see if you can find that Pinkerton couple that’ll look after Maggie?”

Sharp handed the reins of his horse to me. “Don’t think that tip means I’m buyin’ dinner. Yer the one that’s particular about that horse. Mine coulda done just fine chewin’ on some of that straw in the corral.” He smiled to show he was ribbing me. “Meet ya inside.”

After we finished, Maggie and I walked around the building to the front of the hotel. Sharp trudged out the entrance and pointed behind us. “The Pinks want her to come in the back way—directly up to her room, number 204.”

Maggie squared her shoulders. “McAllens don’t sneak in the back.”

“’Fraid so,” Sharp said. “Those are yer pa’s orders.”

She put her hands on both hips. “After being tied up for over a week, I ain’t staying cooped up in a hotel room.”

“No need,” Sharp said. “They’re goin’ to cut and bleach yer hair and dress ya up in a pretty dress.”

“I want a riding skirt.” She stuck her lower lip out. “I don’t like fancy dresses.”

“That’s why yer gonna wear one,” Sharp said. “Pa’s orders … so no one’ll recognize ya.” She opened her mouth to object, but Sharp interjected, “If ya do like yer pa says, ya can ride every day.”

That did it. You could tell by the expression on her face. All three of us reversed direction and marched to the rear entrance. When we entered room 204, the first thing I noticed was that a bathtub had been brought into the room and filled with steaming water. The second thing I noticed was the Pinkerton couple. I don’t know what I expected, but they surprised me. Attractive and dressed expensively in tailored clothes, they fit in perfectly with this romantic hotel. They even looked to be the right age to have a fourteen-year-old daughter. To a casual observer, they were a handsome, rich couple rekindling their relationship in an isolated and exclusive hotel. Only the daughter looked out of place, but Maggie’s separate room and her penchant for horseback riding would make her presence acceptable.

“Hello, Maggie,” the woman said.

She gave the woman a defiant look and asked in a dismissive tone, “You work for my pa?”

“Yes. But let’s be clear. We work for your father, not for you. We have our instructions, and we’ll
all
follow them. Do you understand?”

Maggie pressed her lips together in a straight line and glared at the woman. Then, “Is that bath for me?”

“Yes.”

Maggie turned to us. “Gentlemen, please excuse us.” Then she looked at her pretend father. “You too, of course.”