The Dawn of Fury (83 page)

Epilogue

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Arriving in the late afternoon, Nathan found himself looking forward to a bath, town grub, and a clean bed. Checking in at the hotel, he bought copies of The St. Louis
Globe-
Democrat and The Kansas City
Liberty- Tribune.
As Nathan left the hotel lobby, the desk clerk studied the register and then looked at the clock. His relief would arrive within the hour. Then he would talk to Sheriff Harrington ....

Following his bath and a change of clothes, Nathan headed for a cafe. The cook recognized Nathan and Cotton Blossom.

“Steak cooked through,” said the cook, “sided with onions, spuds, pie, and hot coffee.”

“That will do for starters,” Nathan said. “After feedin' Cotton Blossom and me, you may have to close up and restock. We've been on the trail for a spell, without decent grub.”

Cotton Blossom headed for the kitchen while Nathan took a back table. Reading the St. Louis paper, he found little of interest, and finishing that, turned to the Kansas City edition. In an item from Wichita, Edward Beard had begun construction on another saloon and dance hall, vowing to have it in operation by October. Ben Thompson and his troublesome brother Billy had spent the night in jail, following a brawl in a Kansas City saloon. The unpredictable pair had left town the next day, traveling west.

When the door to his office opened, Dodge City's Sheriff Harrington looked up.

“Come in, Harley. Somebody rob the hotel?”

“Nathan Stone—the gent with the dog—checked in a while ago.”

“He's at the hotel now?” Sheriff Harrington asked.

“No,” said Harley. “After takin' a room, him and the dog went out. Do you reckon there's a reward?”

“I don't know,” Harrington replied. “I had a telegram from the Pinkerton office in Kansas City, and all they asked was that I write them immediately if Nathan Stone showed up. They made it a point to say he has a dog with him.”

“No reward, then,” said Harley, disappointed. “A man wanted by the law ain't likely to be signin' his own name on a hotel register.”

“I wouldn't think so,” Harrington replied. “While the Pinkertons trail bank, train, and stage robbers, they don't limit themselves to that. I expect folks with money can hire them to track missing persons too. I'll telegraph them, tell them Stone's here, and we'll see what happens.”

Receiving Sheriff Harrington's telegram, the Pinkerton office in Kansas City sent an operative with the message to a Kansas City hotel. Hate-filled eyes read the telegram and steady hands loaded a Colt revolver. The recipient of the telegram checked out of the hotel and took a hack to the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railroad terminal. The schedule said the next train to Dodge would depart within the hour, arriving there before dawn ....

The shriek of a locomotive whistle awakened Nathan. Cotton Blossom had reared up on his hind legs, looking out the window into the darkness.

“Just a train comin' in, Cotton Blossom,” Nathan said. “With the railroad through town. It's like trying to sleep next to a steamboat landing. It's a good two hours before first light.”

A single passenger stepped down from the train, and taking a seat on a bench, waited for the town to awaken.

With the first gray light of dawn, Nathan arose. Leaving his room key at the desk, he and Cotton Blossom headed for the cafe. Immediately after breakfast, they would strike out north toward Ellsworth. But suddenly, from behind there came a command that drove all thought of food from Nathan's mind.

“Nathan Stone, this is Sheriff Harrington. I need to talk to you.”

His hands shoulder-high, Nathan turned slowly around. Harrington's Colt was thonged to his right thigh and he looked all business. But the sheriff wasn't alone. The girl had short dark hair under a flat-crowned hat. Her boots were scuffed, her Levi's faded, and an old red flannel shirt looked too large. She looked maybe twenty-one or twenty-two, and her eyes were brimming with hatred. Before the sheriff could speak another word, she drew from the folds of her shirt a Colt revolver. There was no doubt she intended to kill Nathan.

“Hey!” Sheriff Harrington shouted. Seizing her arm, he forced the muzzle of the Colt toward the ground, and the roar of the weapon was loud in the morning stillness. But the girl was resourceful and cat-quick. Facing Harrington, she drove a knee into his groin, and using his moments of agony, wrested the Colt free.

But she now had Nathan Stone to contend with, for he no longer had any doubts as to her intentions. Before she could cock and fire the Colt, he caught her wrist, and when she tried to knee him as she had the sheriff, he seized her ankle. Using that and the hold he had on her wrist, he lifted her off the ground and slammed her down on her back. She let go of the Colt and Nathan kicked it back toward the hotel. Sheriff Harrington had regained his composure and stood there waiting for the girl to get up. She ignored Nathan, turning her anger upon the sheriff.

“You
could
help me,” she snapped, struggling to her knees.

“I could lock you up for attempted murder,” Harrington said coldly. “and I might yet, you little catamount. You lied to me. You told me you only needed to talk to Stone.”

She laughed. “Oh, I do want to talk to him, to tell him who I am. Then I aim to kill him, because he murdered my brother.”

“You don't have to tell me who you are,” Nathan said. “You're from Missouri, and you're one of the Limbaughs.”

“Amy, by name,” said Sheriff Harrington. “Do you know her?”

“No,” Nathan replied, “but I know why she's after me. I had to shoot her hotheaded brother or he'd have shot me. There's just a hell of a lot she hasn't told you, sheriff, and I aim to fill in the gaps. Then I want to know how she dragged you into this.”

“We'll talk in my office,” said Harrington. “We're starting to draw a crowd.”

The three of them walked the short distance to the lawmen's office. There were four cells, none of them occupied. Harrington pointed to the first one.

“In there, Amy. I aim to hear Stone's side of this. Then I'll decide what to do with you.”

Harrington locked the cell door, took a seat behind an old desk and nodded toward the only other chair in the room. Nathan sat down and started talking. When he had finished, Harrington got to his feet.

“What you've said has the ring of truth,” the sheriff said, “but I aim to telegraph the attorney general's office in Jefferson City, Missouri. That's as much for your benefit as my own. I figure if they hear from enough lawmen, all of us raisin' hell, the state might get to the bottom of this, and clear you.”

“I'm more interested in getting the Pinkertons off my trail,” Nathan said. “They're after me so this female sidewinder can fill me full of lead, and she has no legal right. I'm of a mind to ride to Kansas City and pull some Pinkerton fangs.”

“You would be more than justified,” said Harrington. “Fact is, after I've telegraphed the Missouri attorney general's office, I'll contact the Pinkerton office in Kansas City. They should know what Miss Amy Limbaugh's intentions are, and that as a result of their being involved, you're in a position to bring charges against them. If they persist in hounding you, then I'd suggest you do exactly that. Now let's ride to Fort Dodge and send those telegrams.”