Leadville (23 page)

He raised both arms, palms up. “Ya want the animal doctor?”

“Go get him.”

My voice must have sounded angry, because he didn’t hesitate. After he left, I examined the stall and then Chestnut. I could find nothing dangerous in the stall and no wounds on my horse, which didn’t make sense. Chestnut had been his strong, sure-footed self all the way down the mountain. No hint of illness. Heart attack? Occasionally, a horse had been known to run until its heart gave out, but I had never heard of a horse having a heart attack while at rest. No, not a heart attack. Chestnut had suffered severe convulsions. The damage to the stall told me that the convulsions had not been short. I couldn’t look at him anymore. Chestnut had suffered an agonizing and slow death.

Not finding anything in Chestnut’s stall, I searched the rest of the barn. I found nothing unusual and nothing out of place. The liveryman ran a tidy business. But where had he been? His room was connected, and the noise must have been earsplitting.

I walked out of the barn and into the frigid morning. I wanted my pipe, but I had left it at the store. I was thinking of walking back for it when I saw the animal doctor walking toward me. He wore a hostile expression.

When he stood in front of me, he asked, “Are you the one that insists I stop my treatment of live animals to look at a dead horse?”

“Yes.” I turned and went into the barn. I didn’t want an argument; I wanted a professional opinion.

As soon as the doctor saw Chestnut, his demeanor softened. He immediately kneeled over my horse and pried open his mouth. Then he stood and looked around the stall. Eventually, he leaned over and picked up a twig of weed the size of a small piece of tobacco stem. After he sniffed it, the doctor handed it to me.

“Do you have any enemies?” he asked.

“A few.” I didn’t elaborate.

“Your horse was probably poisoned. That’s water hemlock, sometimes called snakeroot. The most poisonous plant hereabouts. It will kill a horse in two to three hours. A human quicker. Eat that tiny piece, and you’ll be in my care for a week.”

“Why do you say probably?”

He turned to the liveryman. “Any chance of snakeroot in your feed?”

“Absolutely not. No, sir.”

The doctor turned back to me. “Then your horse was definitely poisoned.”

I nodded toward the liveryman. “You believe him?”

“Clyde? Hell, yes. Best man with animals I’ve ever seen. If he says there’s no snakeroot in his feed, then somebody brought it in and fed it to your horse.”

I turned to Clyde. “Why didn’t you hear Chestnut kicking his stall apart?”

“Musta happened last night when I was playing faro at the Gemstone.”

“Fits,” the doctor said. “This horse has been dead for over ten hours.”

“You don’t lock up or check the animals before you go to bed?” I wanted to blame someone, so I took my anger out on someone close at hand.

“The big doors are locked, but I leave the side door open for owners. Everybody knows that.”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, ya shoulda asked. I can’t be here twenty-four hours.”

“And you can’t be bothered to check on your charges after you come home drunk from some saloon.”

“I give a listen. No noise, no problem.” He suddenly shed his compassion. “Listen, I didn’t kill your horse, and I’m not payin’. Ya oughta think about who mighta done it and quit blamin’ me.”

Now I really got angry. I pulled two single eagles from my pocket. I gave one to the doctor and said, “Thank you. Sorry to interfere in your work.”

I flipped the other coin in the air at the liveryman. He caught it deftly. “And as for you, I don’t want your goddamn money. That’s for the splendid care you gave my horse. It should settle our account with enough left over to bury him properly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go find a woman.”

I started to stomp out when the doctor said, “Good idea, young man. Release some of that anger with a woman.”

I hesitated only momentarily. “I will, Doctor. But I don’t intend to fuck her; I intend to kill her.”

Chapter 44

I marched out of the livery, intent on finding Mrs. Bolton.

Thinking her name made my teeth grind. It had to be her. Her nature was evil to the core, and she hated me with the passion of a wronged woman. She knew that killing Chestnut would hurt me. I entered the Carbonate Hotel intent on murder. Then I suddenly stopped. Vrable? Could he have done it? If he believed I still worked with McAllen, he might think killing my horse would keep me in town during the robbery. Damn. Now I wasn’t sure. It had to be one of the two, and they might be working together. I decided to talk to Sharp and cool off before I did something stupid. I sure didn’t want to spend my time out West locked up in prison.

As soon as I stepped into the store, I waved Sharp over. He knew something was wrong from my face, so he hurried to meet me at the door.

“Mrs. Baker,” I yelled. “You got the store. We’ll be back shortly.”

Without another word, I turned and walked away.

When Sharp caught up with me, he asked, “What happened?”

“Somebody poisoned Chestnut. He’s dead.”

“Damn … I’m sorry.”

“I need you to help me figure out if it was Vrable or Bolton.”

“What do ya know?”

“The doctor confirmed it was snakeroot, and they convinced me that it wasn’t mixed in the feed. Somebody knew the liveryman’s routine and entered an unlocked side door after he left the barn late last night to play faro. That’s it. I looked around the barn and saw nothing out of the ordinary other than my dead horse.”

“Snakeroot’s not hard to find.” He walked a ways before asking, “Do ya know if Mrs. Bolton is still in Leadville?”

I pointed around the next street corner. “No. That’s a good place to start.”

“They could be workin’ together. Vrable told ya she’d tried to hire him.”

“I already thought of that.” I put a hand on Sharp’s forearm to stop his progress. “Jeff, I hope Vrable’s not involved. I want revenge, and McAllen will be furious if I take action against Vrable. I want it to be Mrs. Bolton.”

“What will ya do if it is? Ya can’t just walk up and shoot a woman.”

“Half hour ago I would have just shot her. I’ve had enough time to figure out that would be a bad move, but not enough time to figure out a good move.”

“If she’s still here, let’s talk to McAllen.”

“He won’t like it. He doesn’t want to be seen with us.”

“Stealin’ or killin’ a horse is a lynchin’ crime in this state. The captain will know how to get evidence.”

“They’ll never hang a woman.”

“Maybe not, but if they throw her in prison, she’ll stay put better than she did in San Francisco. If she’s still registered at the hotel, let’s leave a note with the desk clerk that we want to meet McAllen at the Silverado.”

“All right, but we’ll seal the note and have the kid I hired as a watcher slip it under his door. Vrable might have bribed the desk clerk.”

“Shit, yer right. Let’s go.”

We quickened our pace as I slapped my chest with both arms to get back some of the feeling that the morning chill had stolen from me. When was this robbery planned? Soon? We hadn’t heard any news from McAllen, but that didn’t mean anything. Ore shipments were kept secret to make it more difficult for bandits. The Wells Fargo and Pinkerton protection teams would be the first to know, but even they might have only one day’s notice. For all we knew, it could be happening right now. Because McAllen’s daughter was safe, he could forewarn his team of Pinkertons. He probably didn’t feel like he needed our help. In his mind, we had already done our bit by rescuing his daughter. Besides, McAllen wasn’t the type of man to ask for help, especially when he had his Pinkertons around him.

The lobby of the Carbonate Hotel looked quiet, so we went up to the desk clerk. Like many small men put in a position of minor authority, he pretended to be busy for several minutes before he looked up at us with a quizzical expression.

“Is Mrs. Bolton still a guest?” I asked.

“Yes, Mr. Dancy. In fact, I think she’s in the dining room having breakfast.”

“Thank you.” I walked away from the desk and said to Sharp, “Let’s sit down and surprise her. Gauge her reaction.”

“Ya want me to come with ya?”

“Yes, I don’t trust myself alone with her. Watch and tell me what you see.”

Mrs. Bolton sat at a table in the middle of the elegant room with two waiters hovering at her shoulders. I bet she drove the staff mad with her endless demands. That woman could terrorize a battle-hardened general. I looked around and spotted McAllen in a corner with his back against the wall so he could watch the entire room. For a moment, I thought about asking Sharp to talk to him but decided that would violate McAllen’s orders. I had already learned something though: the ore shipment robbery was still at least a day in the future.

I waited until Mrs. Bolton was engrossed in giving instructions to the waiters before I approached. I wanted to surprise her. When it looked as if the waiters were about to leave to do her bidding, I plopped down beside her. Sharp slid into a third chair.

“Coffee, please. And if your biscuits are fresh from the oven, bring a couple of those as well.”

Not the slightest flinch. In fact, she smiled sweetly as she told one waiter, “You can put those on my tab and bring these gentlemen their coffee immediately. You have our orders; now show me your backsides.”

The two men scurried away as if she held a bullwhip.

“I see you have the hotel staff properly intimidated.”

Again the sweet smile: “It only takes a day.” She folded her hands on the table. “Why do I have the honor of your company?”

“Two men told me you tried to hire them.”

And again, not the slightest flinch. “I hope you’re properly intimidated.”

“Intimidation is not your objective. You’re looking for men to kill me.”

“How do you know I’m still looking?”

I hated this woman but not as much as she hated me. She was fat, in her fifties, and had a huge, broad face that dominated the rest of her corpulent body. With her flowered dresses and pearl jewelry, she looked matronly and innocent. Until she opened her mouth. Then she revealed her insides, which were unseemly and repellent. She had warned me in Nevada that she wanted to kill me, and she had almost succeeded in Durango. I knew how to challenge a man, but how should I deal with a grandmotherly looking woman who hired people to do her dirty work? Make her angry so she made mistakes? She was already angry. Poison? I couldn’t—even after Chestnut. But unless I did something, I would face an unending string of hired gunmen.

“You’re the one that ought to be careful,” I said. “One day, one of your hired hands will testify against you, and you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison instead of in your lovely house in San Francisco.”

“Mr. Dancy, be realistic. No jury will find me guilty. You’re a killer, and I’m a ranch woman with no idea how to do the things you accuse me of.” She smiled. “I can be quite sweet when I set my mind to it. The jury will feel sympathy for me as a poor woman who’s been falsely accused by a despicable killer.”

“You’re right, I have killed people. Perhaps you should be the one who’s worried. I might decide to attack the head of the beast, like I did with Washburn in Nevada.”

“What? Are you going to mount your trusty steed and charge off to slay the evil dragon? I don’t think so, but just in case, the hard-looking brute at the next table protects me.” Again, that damn smile. “He has a gun pointed at you this very minute.”

I looked over at the next table and saw a nasty sort with his hand below the table. He nodded at me. A man with a drawn gun on me. I first felt relief that this was something I might be able to handle, and then I remembered that she would just hire another. I tipped an imaginary hat at her guard and returned my attention to her.

“Mrs. Bolton, this feud will end soon … and you will not be happy with the outcome.” I rose. “Good day, and you may eat our biscuits when they arrive. The waiter probably glazed them with spit anyway.”

When we got to the lobby and found a quiet corner, I asked Sharp, “What did you see?”

“Beyond a reprehensible woman? Not much. She’s protected, an’ she’s still out to get ya.”

“She also killed Chestnut. Her comment about a trusty steed was her way of telling me.”

“Ya sure?”

“I’m sure. That woman revels in bragging about the ill she does others.”

“Well, ya gotta put that aside for the time bein’.”

“Why should I?”

“McAllen gestured that he needs to talk to us. Somethin’s afoot.”

Chapter 45

McAllen met us at the Silverado in less than an hour. He gave us a nod and then got a beer from the bartender before joining us. We had kept the chair in the corner open for him, and he sat down with a sigh and took a long swallow of beer before starting the conversation.

“We have problems.”

Both Sharp and I stayed quiet, so he continued. “First, last night someone killed that Indian that worked with Bane.”

“Raven?”

“That was the name he used.”

“Do they know who killed him?” Sharp asked.

“I do. I’ve seen Bane’s cruel handiwork before … probably killed him because he led you men to his camp.”

Suddenly I felt a swelling of sorrow that I hadn’t expected. Obviously, I had avoided thinking about the possibilities. Fearing the answer, I asked. “Red?”

McAllen’s expression turned sad. “Only one man was gonna come out of those mountains.” He sighed again. “Appears it was Bane.”

We sat silent, and then Sharp raised his beer mug. “To Red—a loyal friend an’ a dangerous enemy. It was an honor to ride with him.”

McAllen and I muttered agreement, and we took a slow sip to commemorate a capable but troubled man. A man, I suspect, none of us really knew.

After we set our mugs back on the table, I asked, “Does this mean that Vrable knows we got Maggie back?”

McAllen shook his head. “I saw Vrable this morning, and he still acted like he had the upper hand. I’m not sure, but I don’t think he knows.