Leadville (3 page)

The owner’s plump wife greeted us with surprise. “Thought you boys were heading out of town.”

“Couldn’t leave town without another of yer great meals,” Sharp said. “Bring us a couple thick ham steaks with yams an’ any other fresh vegetables ya got in the kitchen.”

“And pie?”

Sharp laughed. “And pie, goddamn it.”

“Comin’ right up. Pick your seat.” She scurried off.

The place was empty. I knew it was too early for the noonday meal. Sharp chose a table in the rear, sat against the wall, and then immediately leaned his chair back into his customary position. Sitting opposite, I said, “You sure McAllen will be late?”

Sharp snapped his chair back to the floor and yelled around the corner, “Greta, bring out the pie first!”

Her head appeared around the door frame. “Before the meal?”

“Yeah, keep us busy while you grill them ham steaks.”

“You boys sure are peculiar.” She disappeared again but soon returned with two outrageous portions of berry pie. “This ought to keep you busy.”

Sharp gave her one of his
shucks, I’m just a good ol’ boy
smiles and said, “Thank ya, darlin’.” He grabbed his fork with a fist and shoveled in mouthful after mouthful. When I started laughing, he gave me a purple toothy grin. “Dig in, Steve. McAllen might show up any minute.”

Sharp finished his pie before I was half done and excused himself to visit the privy. The ham steak appealed to me more than sweets, so I laid my fork aside and wiped around my mouth with a napkin. Remembering Sharp’s berry-stained teeth, I took a healthy swallow of coffee, swirled it, and then ran my tongue over my teeth.

“Steve Dancy!” The menacing tone at my back alarmed me. I tried to maintain a casual posture, but I made no move to turn around.

“Dancy, ya son of a bitch, we’re talkin’ at ya.”

Shit. More than one. I made up my mind. I grasped my plate, still half full of pie, and flung it across the room. At almost the same instant, I whirled off the chair, staying low on one knee, and drew my gun. As I came around, I saw two men with guns pointed in my direction. I could see the eyes of the one on the left shifting away from where the plate splattered against the wall and back toward me. I shot him in the middle of the chest. As I swung toward the second man, a gun flash scared me so much that I shot him three times before I gained enough control to switch my attention back to the first gunman. He was no longer on his feet.

The gunfight seemed like crawling time, but it had happened so fast, the plate was still clattering across the floor. During the fight, I had heard only the report of my own six-shooter. When the echo died down, I became aware of a woman screaming like a banshee. I stepped over to the two men and saw that neither would ever get up again. Whipping my head around, I decided that the screaming came from the kitchen. In a few short steps, I found Greta huddled on the floor in the arms of her husband. She was screaming so loud, I yelled, “Where’re you hit?”

Her husband buried her face in his chest and said, “She’s just scared. Goddamn it, what happened?”

Sharp came barreling into the kitchen from the rear door and yelled the same thing.

“I don’t know! Two men just started shooting at me.”

“You whole?” Sharp asked.

“Yeah.” I looked around and saw where the second man’s errant shot had gone through the wall, splintering the thin paneling. No wonder the woman was scared out of her wits. Thankfully, the bullet did not hit her or her husband. I pointed with my thumb at the front room. “They’re dead. It’s a mess.”

Sharp started toward the door, nearly bumping into McAllen and another man I recognized as the marshal. McAllen spoke first. “Is everybody in here all right?”

“Hell, no,” the husband yelled. “My wife almost got killed!”

The marshal turned to another man out of view and calmly said, “Jeff, get the doctor for her.”

“Right away, Marshal,” said the voice from the front room, and I heard boots clunk across the hardwood planks.

The marshal remained businesslike. “Who shot those men?”

“I did. They got the drop on me, and I was lucky they didn’t kill me.”

The marshal looked dubious. “Both got their guns out, but only one barrel is warm.”

“I shot the first one before he fired his gun.”

“Really?” He looked at the other three people in the room. “Anyone see this fight?”

“I was alone,” I interjected. “Marshal, I don’t make a habit of killing random customers that walk into a café.”

“I’m unconcerned with your habits. What happened?”

“I was eating pie with my back to the door, and I heard someone behind me yell my name. It sounded like—”

“I heard that yell,” the owner interjected, his wife now crying quietly into his shoulder.

The marshal held up two fingers. “Not now. I want to hear his story.”

“It was a threat. I threw a plate against the wall and whipped around with my gun out. Two men had guns drawn and pointed at me, and I shot them. That’s all there was to it.”

The marshal did not appear convinced. “Who were they, and why were they hunting you?”

“I don’t know and I don’t know.”

“I do.” This surprising revelation came from Captain McAllen.

The marshal raised an eyebrow toward McAllen, but before he could explain, the doctor barreled into the kitchen with a deputy right behind him. Now there were seven men in a room already crowded with a hot stove, work tables, cabinets, and a sobbing woman. “Get out!” the doctor shouted. “Let me tend to her.”

I was happy to see the marshal wave toward the back door. I was not eager to revisit the bloody bodies in the front room. When we gathered between the building and the privy, the marshal turned to McAllen and said, “Yes?”

“I recognize the men. They were ranch hands at the Bolton place in Nevada. We had a bad experience there. I’ll explain in your office.”

“Cliff and Pete!” I exclaimed.

Now it was McAllen’s turn to look surprised. “You know their names?” he asked.

“The two men that raped Jenny. I was there when she fired them.”

Jenny was the wife of a politician I had supported for governor of Nevada. After his murder, I helped Jenny secure title to his ranch. The politician’s bitter mother had used the ranch hands to chase Jenny away before her daughter-in-law discovered that she had inherited her husband’s ranching empire.

My entanglement in Nevada politics had been dangerous, but I had thought it was over. “Why would they come after me?”

“Someone sent them,” McAllen said.

“Mrs. Bolton.” The sudden realization hit me hard. I thought when I had dispatched the greedy old woman to San Francisco I was done with her.

“She’s the one that deserves shootin’,” Sharp added.

McAllen put a hand on the marshal’s shoulder. “John, can we go to your office? I can explain all this.”

The marshal looked uncertain but then said, “All right, but I want to look at the bodies one more time before the undertaker hauls them away.”

After they left, Sharp gave a low whistle before saying, “That Bolton woman has the devil in her. Ya won’t be safe till you deal with her.”

I felt a sudden pang of anxiety. “Never mind me.” I grabbed Sharp’s forearm. “Jeff … this means Jenny’s not safe.

Chapter 4

While McAllen talked to the marshal, I raced to the telegraph office. I needed to warn Jenny that her mother-in-law was still up to her evil ways. I had thought she was safely out of the way, but obviously the old battleaxe held a grudge against me. As I trotted toward the Western Union station, I grew increasingly alarmed that she might have nefarious plans for Jenny as well. The two women hated each other, and no venomous act was beyond that old woman.

The Western Union office had only two customers, so I wouldn’t have to wait long. I immediately went to a stand-up writing desk and pulled a telegraph message form to compose my warning. I stopped. What was I thinking? The Bolton ranch didn’t have a telegraph station. I had gotten so used to communicating instantly with people in cities that I forgot you couldn’t send a message to someone on a remote ranch.

Panting, Sharp caught up with me, and before I could explain my dilemma, he said, “Let me send the telegram to Fort Churchill. The commander knows me, an’ I can git him to send a rider out to the ranch.”

Without hesitation, I slid the form over to Sharp. I had a reputation in Nevada as a man-killing gunman, but Sharp owned expansive mining interests in the state. He would surely get a better response from people in authority. It suddenly occurred to me that I had just established the same reputation in Colorado. Even gunplay in self-defense earned you notoriety in this untamed frontier.

“What should we say?” I asked.

Sharp thought a minute, his pencil poised above the form. “How ’bout:
Mrs. Bolton sent Cliff and Pete to murder Dancy
.
Be careful. Letter to follow
.”

“Fine, but add:
Dancy unharmed
.”

“Yep. Wouldn’t want the little lady to think ya was kilt. Might get her thinkin’ about other suitors.” Sharp’s laugh made me uncomfortable. “I also need to send a telegram to the colonel with instructions, so start a letter to Jenny with the full tale while I work on this.”

“What’ll I say?”

“Did ya write her before like I told ya?”

“No.”

“Damn it, Steve.” He looked frustrated. “All right, tell her something about the fight and about the situation with McAllen’s daughter. Let her know we’ll be gone awhile. Then finish up by tellin’ her ya love her.”

“Jeff!”

“Women cotton to men that cotton to them. Tell her, ya fool.”

Without responding, I went up to the clerk and bought paper, envelope, and postage. The first part of the letter went easy, but I struggled with the finish. I was still standing at the writing desk when Sharp peeked over my shoulder.

“Cat got your tongue? I thought ya wanted to be a writer. Just tell her how ya feel.”

“Rejected? Lost? How do I tell Jenny I love her after she sent me on my way?”

“With pen an’ ink. Ya sure are thick, Steve. Just write it. Leave this office as a return address. Ya never know ’bout women. She could be regrettin’ ya left an’ be pinin’ away for ya. What’ve ya got to lose?”

“My sanity. Hell, we’ll be gone for weeks, maybe more. All the while I’ll be torturing myself, thinking there’s a letter back here that’ll change my life.”

“Only if she responds in kind. Otherwise, your life goes on as now, with ya mopin’ about like some lovesick youngster.”

Sharp made sense. It was better to know for sure and get this behind me if it wasn’t going to work out the way I wanted. I bent over the paper so Sharp couldn’t see and wrote furiously. I wanted this done before I changed my mind. Then I quickly folded the paper and slipped it into the envelope.

“Did ya tell her ya love her?”

“I told her I felt the same as the last time I saw her and that if she would entertain the notion, I’d like to return to court her.”

“Damn it, Steve. I’ve told over a dozen women that I loved ’em, and it worked every time.”

“Worked? For what?”

“To git what I wanted.”

“Maybe I want more than you.”

Sharp just stared at me. Finally, he said, “Well, if ya won’t take the advice of an older, more experienced man, then I can’t help ya.”

I started to make a smart response but instead simply said, “In truth, only Jenny can help me … and only if she wants to.”

Chapter 5

Not knowing what else to do, Sharp and I returned to the livery. After rechecking everything, we took up our old station against the wall and used our spurs to dig deeper holes in the dirt.

“Do you think that old hag will send more killers?” I asked.

“Those two were readily available ruffians. Mrs. Bolton don’t move in those circles, so I don’t think it likely … at least not soon.” Sharp spun his spur in the tiny furrow he had dug in the dirt. “You ain’t gonna like this, Steve, but them hands proves she ain’t gonna leave this be. Ya took her ranch away an’ gave it to the person that stole her son.”

“Jenny’s husband wrote the will. I just saw that it got properly executed.”

“To that ol’ shrew’s way of thinkin’, you messed in her business.”

“What should I do?”

“Jenny knows her mother-in-law better’n us. She’ll protect herself. Keep your mind on our business at hand.”

In less time than I expected, McAllen and his friend from the Pinkertons marched up the street with more purpose than a couple of generals about to go into battle.

“Let’s go. We’re late,” McAllen snapped.

“I’m free to go? No charges?” I asked.

“Not entirely. I’ll explain on the trail,” was all McAllen said.

Wordlessly, we saddled our riding horses and gave the packhorse loads a final tug to insure that they were secure. Swinging into the saddle, I rubbed Chestnut’s neck and then pulled the reins lightly to guide him into the street. I had owned numerous horses in the East, but none compared with Chestnut for steady character, trail skills, and endurance. He had carried me all over the West for more than a year, and we got along just fine. The dime novels talked about how cowboys loved their horses. I could certainly see how affection grew between man and horse, but I still preferred humankind. Maybe I hadn’t been in the West long enough yet.

We rode single file out of town, but as soon as we emerged into open country, McAllen turned in his saddle and waved me up. I trotted up the string of horses and settled into an easy walking gait beside McAllen.

“You’ll face a hearing on our return.”

“But the marshal still let me leave town?”

“In my custody … with my promise you won’t bolt.”

“So I’m your prisoner?”

“I’m just responsible for your behavior. You have to be back in nineteen days, when the judge’s circuit brings him to Durango.”

“What if we haven’t found your daughter by then? Sharp bought enough supplies to get us through the winter.”

McAllen glanced back toward Sharp but said only, “Nineteen days should be enough.”