Milo Talon (8 page)

“Bring it in and show it to me, will you? I’d like to see what a man would buy.”

“Good doughnuts.” I took a second. “Person like you, in a business like this, I suppose you hear about everything that goes on.”

“Coffee warms people up, but there’s not much to talk about except cattle, sheep, horses, and the weather.”

“You’d enjoy my brother, Barnabas. He’s named for an ancestor of ours on the Sackett side. He’s the talker. Last I heard of him he was in England. Went to school over there, studied the classics, then law. I wish he was here now, or that I could talk to Ma.”

I swallowed the doughnut in my mouth, sipped some coffee, and then I said, “I’ve taken on a job, and I could use their advice. They are a whole lot smarter than me.”

She offered no comment, probably thinking anybody could be smarter than me, so I said, “A man hired me to find his granddaughter. Name of Nancy Henry. Sometimes uses the name of Albro, which is her mother’s name.”

“I did not know you were a detective.”

“I’m not, but I’ve tracked a lot of bear, cows, wild horses, and sometimes outlaws.”

“Mr. Talon, you do not track a girl the way you would a stray cow or a bear. Knowing the trails will not help you much.”

“You’d be surprised, ma’am. Folks leave the same kind of sign an animal does. All you have to do is find what they want, then you’ll locate them soon enough.”

“There are those who want nothing, Mr. Talon, except to be left alone. I am one. I wanted a husband and I got one of the finest. When I lost him I wanted security and something to keep me busy, so I opened this place. I have some money invested. I want nothing, Mr. Talon, but what I have.

“Friends drop by occasionally, and I have a few good books and a piano. Occasionally I can do a favor for a friend. What more can anyone want?”

“Seems to me most people aren’t content with what they have. Often they push on toward some goal that may be empty in itself.”

I took another doughnut. “The girl I am looking for may be ignorant of what she is or even who she is. Or she may know and be frightened.”

“Frightened?”

“There’s a chance some folks could profit by her not
being found. There may be those who do not want her found. There may also be those who hope to profit by discovering her.”

“And yet you are looking for her?”

“I’ve made no promises beyond finding her.”

We talked for half an hour and then I walked back to Larkin’s and bought the suitcase. I’d gotten a glimpse, which she intended, of a beat-up suitcase standing back in her sitting room. The one I was buying was perfect for what I wanted.

As I paid the clerk in the green eyeshade I said, “You folks are mighty lucky. That Mrs. Logan, she sure makes a fine doughnut.”

“She surely does. A fine woman, too. And looks mighty handsome on a horse.”

Glancing at my watch, I commented, “I’ve an hour before train time. I’ll just go back for a refill.”

“Would myself if I could get away from here.” He waved a hand around. “The old man has gone to Denver so I’ve got to hold the fort.”

Taking the suitcase, I went out on the street. No one seemed to be watching, yet I was uneasy. Despite that, I felt I’d done a good job of providing a cover for picking up the suitcase from St. Louis. At least, I hoped I had.

Penny Logan came from her sitting room to join me. Glancing back, I saw the old suitcase was no longer in sight. As I sat down I glimpsed it, standing at the end of the counter where she kept her thread, needles, and such. This was a canny woman.

My suitcase was close by. “Had to come back for more coffee and conversation.”

She poured the coffee, then went around the end of
the counter. I heard my suitcase open and then snap shut. Penny came around and sat down.

“What about you?” she asked. “Mightn’t you be in danger?”

“It’s a way of life in this country. I grew up with it.”

“You know Portis?”

“Who really knows him? We’ve done some favors for each other.”

“He’s concerned. He genuinely likes you, I believe.”

She was a very attractive woman, and younger than I had believed. “Do you know him?”

She smiled. “He needs me. I send him his cactus candy. Portis loves it and I get it from a friend in Tucson. Cactus candy and pecans and Portis is a happy man.”

“I know. I send him a bushel of them, time to time.” I paused. “I used to punch cows down Texas way. Lots of pecans along the creeks in some parts of the state.”

When I emptied my cup I stood up. The street was empty except for the buckboard in front of Larkin’s and a covered wagon standing near the station. My right hand slipped the thong from the hammer of my six-shooter.

“Penny,” I asked. “Whose wagon is that?”

She glanced around. “I don’t know. It wasn’t there a minute ago.” She frowned. “I never saw it before.”

Four good strong mules were hitched to the wagon but no driver was on the seat and nobody was near it.

My route led right in front of it and if I walked that way and if the wagon should move forward just as I passed, there would be a time when I was behind the wagon, between it and the station, and completely out of sight.

“You know, Penny, I’m getting skittish as an old maid at a bachelors’ picnic. Imagining boogers behind every bush. How long does the train stop?”

“No longer than it takes to unload and load.”

We heard the warning whistle, and then, although there was no driver in sight, I saw the lines move slightly as if someone had gathered them up.

The usual route to the station would be from the corner of Larkin’s across the street to the depot. Taking up the suitcase, noticeably heavier now, I said, “Thanks, Penny. Take care of yourself.”

Stepping outside, I started across the street, then suddenly switched directions and went behind the wagon, into the shallow ditch and up the other side. The train came puffing up to the platform as I reached it.

The conductor stepped down and dropped the step. Nobody was getting out so I stepped aboard and went back to the coach where I could sit in a corner.

What they wanted might be me, but it might also be the suitcase if they had figured it out. Or maybe they did want me. Removing my hat, I dropped it into my lap over my drawn six-shooter.

The train whistled and I saw two men rushing for the train just as it pulled away. They could not have reached it in time. The whole action from the time I passed behind their wagon until the train started moving could have taken no more than three minutes, perhaps less. There had been a moment when they lost sight of me and that had given me an edge.

John Topp was seated on the bench against the station when the train pulled in. My gun was back in its holster and the suitcase in my left hand as I stepped
down from the train. His head was turned away and I had no idea whether he saw me or not. Crossing to the hotel, I went to my room and put the suitcase down.

The answer to some of my questions might be in that suitcase, but I doubted it. Nevertheless, it was a possibility and I could not afford to pass it up.

Glancing at the rooftop across the street, I saw there was no way to see into the room from there, beyond a mere corner where the washstand was. Putting the chair under the knob, I opened the suitcase and took out the smaller one.

It was bound with two leather belts, buckled tight, and it was locked. For a moment I just stood and looked at it.

Portis believed the Magoffins had been murdered, and they had owned this suitcase. Purposely, they had not claimed this baggage, holding the baggage-check and leaving the luggage in what they believed was a safe place.

Had Pier Van Schendel gone through it? The case did not appear to have been opened. The other case, the one the Pinkertons examined, probably held nothing of interest or they would have found it.

Removing my coat, I hung it on the bedpost at the head of the bed, and taking out my six-shooter, I placed it on the bed close at hand.

Portis believed the Magoffins had been murdered, so there must be more to this than just a man looking for an heir. It might well be a matter of life and death for me, but half my life had been lived that way. What worried me, wherever she was, was that girl. She might have no warning at all.

Unbuckling the straps, I broke the lock on the suitcase. Opening it, I found on one side, neatly folded, a man’s suit. It was excellent broadcloth and seemed almost new. Three shirts, underwear and socks, a couple of spare collars, suspenders, some odds and ends. Tucked under the suit a packet of letters, a notebook, and an envelope containing photographs.

Under the lining, which had been carefully re-tacked, I found a painting almost as large as the suitcase itself. It was a desert scene of rolling hills at wildflower time. The foreground was a sea of blue, in the background, far off, a patch of bright orange.

The painting was quite good, in remarkable detail, and I stared at it, puzzled and haunted by something vaguely familiar.

Just at that moment, there was a tap on the door.

O
NE QUICK STEP, gun in hand, and I was at the door. A moment I hesitated, listening. These walls were thin and no protection from a bullet.

“Yes?” I said, speaking softly.

“I must see you! Now!” It was Molly Fletcher. But how much, after all, did I know about Molly? I glanced quickly at the open suitcase. There was no time to bunch it all together.

With my left hand I removed the chair from under the knob, then opened the door. “All right, come in.”

She stepped in, hesitating, and with a quick glance over her shoulder. Young ladies who wanted to keep a reputation did not go to hotel rooms with men or where men were.

“Mr. Talon? I—”

“Call me Milo.”

“Milo, there was a man in the restaurant, an old man. He frightens me.”

Baggott? I described him.

“No, this was a stranger. I have never seen him before. Well … I don’t believe I have. He … he keeps staring at me.”

“You’re a very pretty girl.”

“It wasn’t like that. I know how men look at me when they think I’m pretty, and I know how they look
when … when … well, when they are thinking other things. This was not that way. Then he began asking questions.”

“Questions?”

“Oh, it sounded like the usual things. He said he was surprised to see such a pretty girl in a town like this. I didn’t say anything, and then he asked me how long I had been here. I told him ‘Not long’ and stayed away from his table until I had to serve his meal. He kept asking questions, and I was frightened. He … he seemed to want to know about
me
, who I knew, how long I had been here, how I got the job.

“Finally I told him I was busy, that there was much to do in the kitchen and then—I shouldn’t have, but he frightened me and I—”

“You did what?”

“I told him if he had any questions to ask he should ask you.”

“Me?”

“Well, I was scared. You’ll see what I mean when you see him. He’s a big old man, quite fat … well, maybe bulky is the word. I’m not sure all of it is fat.”

“What did he say to that?”

“That’s why I’m here. I ran out the back door and hurried right over here because when I mentioned your name I thought he was going to swear. I mean, it was his expression, the way he sat up so sharply.

“Until then it had all been so casual, so offhand. Suddenly he seemed angry. He said ‘What’s he got to do with this?’

“I didn’t know what he meant and I told him so. I said, ‘What do you mean by
this?
He’s simply a friend,
that’s all, and I am busy. I haven’t the time to answer personal questions, and Mr. Talon would be glad to help you if there is any way he can.’ ”

“Good girl,” I said. “How did he react to that?”

“He was quite angry. Impatient, too. He twitched around in his chair like people sometimes do when they are irritated. Then he said, ‘I was simply talking to you. I have nothing to say to Milo Talon.’ I had not mentioned your first name, but he knew it.”

“Thanks, Molly. You’d better get back to the restaurant. I’ll be down in a little while.”

Her eyes went past me to the open suitcase and the things spread on the bed. I thought for a moment she was going to faint and then she said, “Oh, my God!” There was something so frightened in the way she said it that it was almost prayerful.

She turned and started for the door and I caught her arm. “Molly, don’t be afraid. You don’t have to be afraid.”

She stared at me, then pulled her arm away. She opened the door and I said, “Molly, why don’t you tell me all about it?”

She went out and closed the door behind her, and I turned back to the bed to see what she had seen.

For a moment I just stood there, looking. The open suitcase, the packet of letters, the painting—

What was it that caused her to exclaim? What had she recognized? The painting? The area pictured in the painting? The suitcase? The suit?

Bundling it all together, I hastily stuffed it back in the suitcase, strapped it up, and shoved it under the
bed. Certainly no place to hide anything but I wanted to see that man. I needed to see him.