Outlaw Train (5 page)

Luke shrugged.

“Would I be gossiping if I told you something I seen that might have something to do with this?” Dewitt said.

“If it’s something we need to know to enforce the law, I think you ought to tell,” Luke replied.

“Well…all right. It was two nights ago. I was out walking in town because I’d finished up my work here and there was nobody to watch in the jail. I figured a little exercise might make me sleep better, so I walked. Kept an eye on things while I did, kind of like making rounds like you do, Luke.”

“I appreciate that, Dewitt.”

“Anyway, I was over near the Gable House and thought about stopping in to say hello to Jimmy Wills, figuring he was working the night duty as usual. But I never actual went into the hotel lobby. I stopped in the alley for a piss there across the street from the hotel, and when I was coming out to cross the street, I seen somebody I recognized going into the hotel. And I wondered why he’d be out visiting the hotel at that hour of the night. So I kind of watched, and through them front windows that look into the staircase over near where it goes down into the lobby, I could see him going up. And I remembered that woman living there, and it come to me what he was up to. Surprised me, I got to say.”

“Who was it, Dewitt?” asked Crowe.

Dewitt opened his mouth and closed it again, frowning. “Go on and tell, Dewitt,” Luke said.

“Howard Ashworth,” Dewitt said softly.

There was silence as the group took it in. Then Crowe chuckled softly, the chuckle growing into a full laugh that spread to the others. Luke managed not to join the laughter, but couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Oooh, Lordy!” Crowe said. “Can’t say I can hold old Ashworth much at fault for that sin, considering what he’s got to go home to!”

“Typical old hypocrite!” said Wilton Brand in a tone almost triumphant. “Just the kind of thing you can expect from them what wave their religion like a banner over everybody else they think they’re better than! Old church elder Ashworth sits there on that pew with his old cow of a wife Sunday after Sunday, singing praises to heaven, and all the while he’s sneaking out in the night making his own kind of heaven with a whore in the hotel! Bah! That’s what keeps me out of church. All the damned hypocrites!”

“Why, Wilton, even if you ain’t a churchgoer, I thought you professed to be a man of faith,” Luke said. “Ain’t that so?”

“I got faith. I just ain’t one to go strut it down the street every Sunday morning to put on a show of going to church.”

“So you got faith. To that extent, then, you’re the same as Ashworth.”

“Yeah, to that extent.”

“But just now you were looking out that window at that woman and talking about how you might go dally with a fallen woman. So you’re like Ashworth to that extent, too.”

“What are you saying, Luke?”

Luke shrugged and winked at Dewitt on the
sneak. “Just saying, Wilton, that apparently you don’t have to go to church to be a hypocrite.”

“Hell, I ain’t no hypocrite! I don’t go waltzing down to the Presbyterian church every Sunday and put on a righteous show so everybody can see what a ‘fine Christian’ I am like Ashworth does!”

“No, but you said just now you were a man of faith. And that right after talking about your plan, or at least your wish, to go sin with a whore. Sinning with a whore is against the law of the Lord, Wilton, last time I checked. So that makes you as big a hypocrite as Ashworth, whether or not you sit on the pew at the Presbyterian church. That’s the gospel according to Luke Cable, anyway.”

“Amen!” Dewitt Stamps bellowed out. “You preach it, Luke!”

Brand nearly came out of his chair. He aimed a finger at Dewitt. “I’ll hear no more from the likes of
you,
you old drunk!” Then he looked at Luke. “As for you, Marshal Cable, I never thought I’d hear such an insult from somebody I took to be a friend.”

“Why, we
are
friends, Wilton. And friends can talk honest with each other. That’s all I was doing, just talking honest.”

“Calling me a hypocrite, that’s what you were doing!”

“Same as you were doing about Ashworth.”

“But I
ain’t
a hypocrite, and he is!”

“Whatever you say, Wilton, even though I think I’ve made a strong case otherwise.”

“Hell, Luke Cable, I’m as damn fine a Christian man as you’ll run across! I ain’t got a hypocrite’s bone in my whole damn body! Hell
fire,
man!”

“Glory hallelujah to you, too, Wilton.”

Brand swore again, came to his feet, and stomped out of the office, slamming the door as he went.

Crowe laughed. “You got his goat that time, Luke! Got his goat, roasted it whole, and ate it with taters! Ha!”

Two days later, Luke had cause to think back on the conversation in the jail office when he was walking along Emporium Street and two things simultaneously caught his eye. One was a flyer freshly tacked to the wall of the empty dress shop at the intersection of Emporium Street and Smith Alley, across the street from the emporium. The other was the attention-grabbing form of Katrina Haus flouncing and bouncing across the street, stack of papers in her hand, toward the big staircase of the emporium. On that staircase, sweeping with his usual seriousness and intensity, was Macky Montague, the mentally underdeveloped nephew of the emporium’s founder and operator, Campbell Montague.

Macky took no seeming notice of the woman until she was halfway up the staircase; then she caught his eye and he froze, gripping his broom so tightly it looked as if he might break it. Macky’s eyes kept drifting from the woman’s face to her chest and back again. Luke had to grin. Macky might be mentally limited, but he was a man all the same, and a vision such as Katrina Haus could not fail to catch even his innocent eye.

Katrina noticed Macky and turned toward him,
studying him closely. Luke could not tell whether she was enjoying his obvious discomfort or simply found him interesting for some reason. “Good morning, young man,” she said in a clear, delicate voice made musical by the hint of a foreign accent Luke couldn’t readily identify. German, he decided. Or something close. Luke was crossing the street to the emporium as she spoke to Macky. In Luke’s hands was a flyer he’d just torn down from the dress shop wall.

“Good…good morning, ma’am,” Macky said.

“You’re doing quite a good job in sweeping these steps.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

It was obvious to Luke that Katrina had detected Macky’s simplicity. She talked to him in the light tone one would use with a small child. “Is this your store?” she asked.

“My…my uncle’s store, ma’am.”

“Oh! And you work for him?”

“Yes, ma’am. I…I sweep and such. My name’s Macky. Macky Montague.”

“And you’re quite good at sweeping.” She approached Macky, reached out, and patted his shoulder. The bashful young man was taken aback, and looked over at Luke as if pleading for help.

So far Katrina had shown no indication of being aware that Luke was behind her and watching. Luke slipped closer and heard her say to Macky, “Your uncle, I’m told, is quite a wealthy man. Is that right, Macky?”

“I don’t know what that means, ma’am. Wealthy.”

“It means rich. That he’s got a lot of money.”

“I reckon he does, ma’am. He was a railroad man for most his life. He run the railroad.”

“So he drove a train? Like an engineer?”

Macky laughed, amused by the notion of his uncle wearing an engineer’s cap and physically operating a train. “No, ma’am. He run it like he runs this store. It was
his
railroad.”

“Well! Then certainly he must be a man of fortune! Tell me, young man, what is your name?”

“I’m Macky, ma’am. What’s your name?”

“You may call me Miss Haus. Or Prophetess Haus, if you wish.”

Macky asked, “What a prophetess?”

“A teacher. Someone who helps others learn.”

“Like in a schoolhouse?”

“Usually in a lecture hall or public auditorium. Sometimes other places.”

“Can you…can you teach folks to read if they don’t know how?”

She paused, silent. Luke held still, behind her and still unnoticed. She laughed softly, gently, and said, “You’re a sweet young man, Macky. You remind me of my brother.”

Macky was beginning to relax and enjoy being talked to by a beautiful woman, an experience he’d never had before. He didn’t seem to notice she had skirted his question. “What’s his name, your brother?” he asked.

“Peter. I called him Petey.”

“Where he now?”

“He’s…away. Gone.”

“He’ll come back?”

“He died, Macky.”

Macky’s eyes shifted from side to side and he swiped a nervous hand across his mouth. “I can’t be your brother, but I can be your friend, if you want me to,” he said.

She didn’t answer at once. Luke had the impression of a cunning mind at work. Which roused suspicion. A beautiful woman, exhibiting friendliness to a half-witted innocent, asking him about family wealth and playing to his inevitable shyness and awkwardness while clearly seeking to engage his sympathies…this woman merited keeping an eye on for reasons beyond being pleasant to look at.

“How very sweet!” she said. “A woman such as I am, living and traveling alone, is always in need of friends, Macky. The right kind of friends, ones who are kind and friendly and helpful and can be trusted. I think you might be that kind of person. I can usually tell. So yes, maybe you can be my friend in this town.”

“Yeah, ma’am. I’ll do that. If you be my friend, too.”

“Macky, I can be your friend in ways you may not even know about. All it takes is a little bit of money and a private place. I can make you feel…
good.
Make you very happy in ways I’ll bet no one has done for you before.”

Luke wouldn’t hear more. He understood what she was getting at even if the innocent Macky didn’t, and he wasn’t going to stand by and watch some conniving prostitute try to get her hands on Montague money by taking advantage of the simplicity of a man with a boy’s mind.

Luke took a step closer to the woman and deliberately
rattled the flyer in his hand. Katrina heard it, turned, and looked closely at Luke. Her eye drifted down, she saw his badge, and suddenly her face blanked and she seemed to withdraw.

“Ma’am,” Luke said, touching the brim of his hat.

“Sir,” she replied, curt. Her eye seemed drawn to his chest to study his badge. His was drawn to hers for other reasons.

“Ma’am, I think you may have dropped this,” he said, holding up the flyer he’d torn down from the wall. He’d come up with this pretext for interruption when he’d noticed just now that the papers in her hand were other copies of this same flyer. She was going around town putting them up.

“Oh, I’m quite sorry,” she said, reaching to take the flyer from his hand. But he pretended not to notice her effort and drew the flyer back to read it.

“‘Prophetess Katrina Haus, Seer of Visions, Practicioner of Mediumship (Authentic) and Communicator with the Departed. Lecture and Communication to be held on Tuesday, Wiles Exhibition and Lecture Hall, Seven o’clock in the evening. Admission Seventy-five cents, Payable at Door.’”

“Yes, sir,” she said sweetly in her pleasant Germanic accent. Her hand flashed and suddenly she had snatched the flyer from Luke’s possession and added it to the stack in her other hand. “Thank you for returning my flyer to me, sir,” she went on. “There is, I trust, no problem in my posting these notices in public places? I inquired in the town hall after arriving in your lovely town, and was told how to proceed with such a thing within the bounds of town law.”

“You did the right thing, then,” Luke replied. “Plenty of folks don’t bother even to inquire. They just do what they want and hope to get by with it.”

“I strive to be a law-abiding citizen,” she said, smiling and putting her hand out for a shake. Luke took her hand and noted how it felt like a small, easily crumpled spring leaf in his own bigger paw.

“I’m Acting Marshal Luke Cable,” he said, finding himself hoping, as all men do when encountered by feminine beauty, that he was making a favorable impression upon her. Never mind that she was likely a traveling harlot here to take advantage of any man she could, and a probable fraud medium besides. She was stunningly beautiful and Luke was having trouble getting past that.

“She my new friend, Luke,” said Macky. “She says I make her think of her brother.”

“That’s…fine, Macky. But remember it’s always good to try to get to know something about a person before you tie in too closely with them.”

“Why, Marshal, what have I done?” asked the woman in frail, faux little-girl innocence. Luke caught himself thinking she’d probably perfected that juvenile voice in the company of men perversely appealed to by such a thing. It actually annoyed him.

“I take it you are this ‘prophetess’ who will be speaking?” Luke asked.

“I am.”

“She nice, Luke,” Macky said. “She not a bad lady.”

“He’s right, you know,” she said, still with that charming smile. “I’m not a bad lady. I’m a gifted woman who can bring happiness to others by letting them speak with their departed loved ones.”

“I’d like to talk to you privately for a moment, ma’am,” Luke said, and her smile dwindled. She quickly forced it back into place.

“Excuse me, Macky,” she said, patting his arm. He giggled.

Macky went back to his sweeping and Luke led Katrina out onto the street, directly in front of the emporium. “How can I help you, Marshal?” she asked.

“I need to ask you a question or two about your activities in Wiles,” he said. “Difficult questions,” he added, conscious of how delicate this would become if he proved to be wrong in his suspicions.

“Activities? Whatever do you mean, sir?”

Luke glanced around to make sure Macky and any others who might come around were out of earshot. “Miss Haus, I have been told by witnesses that men have been seen frequenting your room at the Gable House throughout the small hours of the night. Do I need to spell out my concern?”

There was a long pause, then: “Sir, I am…I am
shocked
at your allegation!” But her effort to sound offended came off hollow.

“No intent on my part to offend, ma’am. There’s also no intent to stand by and let laws be violated in a flagrant manner, especially those affecting the morality of our community. Which is why I have to inquire.”

“Marshal, I am in town to help those who have lost loved ones regain contact with them through the principles and practices of spiritism. It is for those purposes only that individuals have come to my hotel chamber.”

“At two and three in the morning? And all of them men?”

“The fact that here my visitors have been men, sir, is coincidence. In other towns I am sometimes besieged by mothers seeking to make contact with their lost children, often sons killed in the late war. Other places, such as here, my clients happen to be bereaved fathers and widowers. Most times there is a mix. And I expect that will be the case after I’ve had opportunity to advertise my offerings more openly, which is why I’ve visited your local printer and had these broadsides created. I’m placing these across town. I assure you, Marshal, my activities in Wiles are of the highest and most decent nature, intended only to bring new joy to the joyless, hope to the hopeless, and communication to those who have been cut off from their dearest ones.”

“You’ve given that little speech more than once, I think,” Luke observed.

“This is not the first time I’ve defended myself against misunderstanding and false accusations.”

“You keep conducting your business at such odd hours, and in such a setting, and such accusations are going to happen.”

“Marshal, it has been my experience that some spirits will communicate with the living only in the darkest hours of night, and in settings of privacy. It is often essential for me to conduct my visitations at these ‘odd hours’ you mention.”

“Might you consider going to your customers instead of having them come to you, then?” he countered. “Appearances, you know. A woman visiting a house with the full family present, even
at a late hour, would strike folks a lot different than when a man pays call on a woman alone in a hotel room in the midst of the night. Especially one who—forgive me, ma’am—dresses herself to such display as you do.”

Katrina thrust up her nose and gave a disdainful
harrumph
worthy of Clara Ashworth. “Sir, I possess the attributes I possess. I did not choose them any more than you chose those overlarge ears.”

Luke squelched an impulse to put his hands up to hide his largish ears, which always had been an embarrassment to him.

“Marshal, are you through with me? I would like to go on about my business without further interference, if I may.”

“Go on, then. But, Miss Haus, please be aware that I will be watching you.”

She smiled and moved in such a way as to make her bosom bounce. A man on the far side of the street walked into a hitch rail. “Marshal, I am quite accustomed to being watched. I hope I gave no offense regarding your ears, by the way.”

“Forget about it.”

“I’ll bet you wish
you
could forget them,” she muttered.

She turned and headed up the steps toward the emporium front door, swaying her hips a little more than necessary beneath her long dress. Traffic on the street stopped until she was inside the emporium and out of sight.