Wanted! Belle Starr! (10 page)

With the settling down of his emotions, a
careful peek and a few seconds of thought informed the receiver
that he was lying on a bed in a room much like the one he had
rented at the Railroad House Hotel in Mulrooney, Kansas. It was
much tidier than he kept his own, however. The previous discomfort
to his optic nerves, he discovered, had resulted from nothing more
than a somewhat anemic lamp suspended from the ceiling.

Slowly a recollection of the events which
had occurred immediately prior to his collapse on the bed, began to
force itself upon Icke!

Snarling a profanity, the receiver thrust
himself into a sitting position and gazed wildly about him!

The beautiful blonde Southron, upon whose
virtue assuming it was still intact and unsullied Icke had had
licentious designs, was nowhere to be seen!

Nor, a glance followed by a more carefully
scrutiny informed the receiver, was the leather dispatch case
containing the fifteen thousand dollars’ purchase price for the
jewelry he had been offered on the bed where he had placed it!

There was even worse to come!

Having risen from the bed, meaning to
commence what he suspected was going to prove a vain attempt to
find the case lying on the floor, Icke noticed in passing his
reflection in the mirror on the dressing-table. Continuing to glare
elsewhere, something he had noticed caused him to return his gaze
to it. For a moment, apart from the not unexpected expression of
shock and alarm on his pallid now ashy features, he could discern
nothing to suggest what had partially attracted his attention.

Then the receiver realized something
definitely was not as it should be!

A close look informed Icke there was no
longer a gold chain suspended between the pockets of his vest.
Grabbing fingers quickly ascertained that it and the watch to which
it was attached had both gone. Goaded by the consternation which
the discovery was causing, his hands scrabbled hastily at the
inside pockets of his jacket. It was as he had feared. His
well-filled wallet had also been taken by the blonde; but something
far, far, more important was missing.

Aware that his illicit occupation might be
exposed to the authorities one day, creating a need for immediate
flight, Icke always took certain precautions against that
eventuality. One of these was to keep in his possession at all
times a red morocco leather pocketbook containing the relevant
details concerning all his secret bank accounts. Discovering that
it too had been taken by Darlene-Mae Abernathy. was an even more
shattering blow than the loss of the case he had retrieved from the
National Trust Bank, his gold watch and chain and the wallet
containing all his ready money, except for the change in his
trousers pockets.

While the details of where the accounts were
deposited, the aliases employed and all the other necessary
information, were written in a code of his own devising, the
receiver realized this was far from an inviolable system of
protection. Regardless of possessing a high opinion of his own
intelligence, he was willing under the current deeply disturbing
circumstances to admit someone else might be sufficiently astute to
decipher what he had written. Furthermore, he could not recollect
enough of the details to enable him to make contact with the
various banks and give orders to prevent withdrawals until he was
in a position to transfer the money elsewhere. To make matters much
worse, even at his home, he did not have any other record to supply
the requisite information.

On the point of dashing out to send for
Stephen Forey and Lee Potter to come and join him, a thought struck
Icke. Telling himself he was merely wasting his time, but in a
frame of mind eager to grasp at straws no matter how unproductive
they were likely to be, he started to search the room to see if he
could find some clue to help locate the beautiful blonde. Apart
from a woman’s long and hooded black cloak hanging upon a peg in
the big wardrobe, there was nothing left to prove, she had even
been in occupation. The clock on the wall informed him it was seven
forty-five and, although the drapes were drawn, various noises
coming through the partially open window implied this was evening
and not morning.

Donning his cloak and leaving the room, no
better informed about the woman calling herself ‘Darlene-Mae
Abernathy’ than when he had entered except for believing this was
unlikely to be her name and knowing she had tricked him the
receiver hurried down to the ground floor. Crossing the reception
lobby, he was about to ask for a bellboy to deliver a message
summoning his bodyguards when he saw the clerk gazing past him with
a pained expression. Hearing the name by which he was registered
spoken from his rear, in a slightly guttural accent such as he had
become accustomed to during the period of his life spent in
Oklahoma, he turned. Coming towards him was a tall, lean and
Indian-dark man dressed and armed after the fashion of the cowhands
he had seen around Mulrooney.

“
Are you speaking to me?”
Icke asked, always wary when in contact with anybody who sounded
like a native of Oklahoma and alert for any suggestion that he had
been recognized from the time he spent there.

“
I’m not meaning that
lard-gutted hombre back of the bar there, looking like he’s all
scared I’m going to start wide-looping the spittoons,” the newcomer
answered, directing a sardonic nod at the desk clerk. “And, less
there’s two looks and dresses’s fancy, you’re that same ‘Mr.
Wilson’ as I’ve seen around town with Stevie Forey and Lee Potter.
But, happen you ain’t him, say no ’n’ I’ll quit wasting my
time.”

“
I’m the same,” the
receiver confirmed, unable to detect any suggestion of recognition
from the past and hoping he was not being addressed by a member of
the gang who had offered to sell him the stolen jewelry. He could
not think of any other reason for the visit. “What can I do for
you?”

“
I reckon’s how that’d be
something you’d rather listen to where there ain’t no ears
a-wagging ’n’ a-flapping to take it all in,” the Oklahoman stated,
his dark features being indicative of Indian blood, once again
favoring the man behind the reception desk with a nod. “Like over
in that fancy bar-room.”

“
Come with me,” Icke
ordered and, leading the way, selected a table clear of the other
occupants. Sitting down and waving away the waiter who started to
approach, he went on, “Well, what is it?”

“
I reckon I’ve got to you
too late,” the Oklahoman asserted, studying the haggard face of his
obviously reluctant host.

“
Too late for
what?”

“
To warn you about
‘Gold-Brick Annie O’Toole’ and her sister.”

“
Who the hell are
they?”

“
You likely never looked
twice at Winnie O’Toole, her being what I’d call’s homely as a mud
fence. But the ‘Gold-Brick’s’ that real purty blonde haired gal’s
been living here calling herself, ‘Darlene-Mae
Abernathy’.”

“
Why do you call her
‘Gold-Brick’?” Icke demanded, although he could guess.

“
It’s ’cause she goes
’round selling gold bricks from her daddy’s mine, only it comes out
he’s mining lead with gold paint on it; or other things that ain’t
what they look like, to fellers’s don’t have enough sense to pack
sand into a rat-hole. She’s what I’ve heard tell’s called a
‘conjuneero’.”

“
A god-damned confidence
trickster!” the receiver spat out, despite never having heard such
a term for a criminal following that particular
vocation.

“
Between ’em, the
‘Gold-Brick’ ’n’ her sister are about the best around,” confirmed
the Oklahoman. “I knowed they must be on the trail of some poor
son-of-a-bitch when I saw ’em all fancied up like a rich gal and
her maid. So they took you down, huh?”

“
Took me down?” Icke
growled, trying to behave as if he could not comprehend the meaning
of the question.

“
I know you big city
jaspers don’t spend a whole heap of time out in the sun,” the
Indian-dark visitor elaborated dryly. “But your face’s whiter’n a
dead fish’s belly ’n’ you look some sicker’n a deacons’s drunk Taos
Lightning ’stead of holy water. Yes sir, mister. They took you down
and likely left you drugged. I should’ve figured’s how they’d got
set to bring down whoever they was after when I saw them having
their gear moved out this afternoon.”

“
This
afternoon?”

“
Right after you’d come
out and was high-tailing it to the bank.”

“
Then why didn’t you stop
them?”

“
The last feller’s got
took with such a notion didn’t tote it no furthern to get put under
a lil wooden cross in boot hill mister. Which I wasn’t figuring on
taking the chance on joining him when I didn’t know’s I’d get paid
should I pull it off.”

“
So they’ve left town,
have they?” Icke snarled, deciding the dark faced and dangerous
looking man had something more in mind than merely supplying the
information given up to that point.

“
I said they’d lit a shuck
out of this here fancy rooming house, was all,” corrected the
Oklahoman.

“
You mean they’re still in
Mulrooney?”

“
I mean nothing else but
they’re still here in Mulrooney.”

“
And you can tell me
whereabouts?”

“
Now isn’t that the
god-damned strangest thing?” the Oklahoman drawled, leaning back in
his chair, his face taking on a crafty expression. “I could’ve
swored’s how I knowed where they was, when I come in here. But,
dog-my-cats, if it hasn’t gone plumb out of my mind!”

“
Would five dollars help
you remember?” Icke asked, having that much in coins left in the
pockets of his trousers.

“
Mister,” the visitor
answered, straightening up with an expression of disdain. “If
that’s all you reckon what they’ve took you for is
worth—!”

“
I’ve got some money in my
room,” the receiver said bitterly, although the currency to which
he was referring was more readily available even than that. Another
of his precautions against the need for a hurried departure was
always to keep a one hundred dollar bill in the hollow built into
each heel of whichever shoes or boots he was currently wearing.
“But I’m not going to hand any of it over until I’m sure you’re not
just trying to put something over on me.”

“
You don’t put much trust
in other folks, do you?”

“
I’m not a sucker, if
that’s what you mean. And, if it comes down to a point, I don’t
know anything about you. Not even your name.”

“
They do tell even my own
pappy never knowed that,” the Oklahoman drawled. “Which being, you
wouldn’t know whether I’d spoke truthful or just given you a summer
name. Anyways, this I’ll give you for starters, mister. They’re
hiding out in a shack I can show you down to the poor folks’ end of
town. At least, Winnie’s there. The ‘Gold-Brick’s’ gone off with
some good looking young feller and, happen I’ve heard right about
her hot-assed ways, she won’t be back for a fair spell.”

“
Can you find Forey and
Potter for me while I’m getting your money?” Icke requested,
concluding he would prefer to have his bodyguards available before
going anywhere with the Indian-dark and savage featured
man.

“
Sure, happen you don’t
mind hanging around for ’em until tomorrow at the
soonest.”

“
Why do I have to do
that?”

“
They got word’s how some
jasper from Boston’s you’ve sent ’em after’s hid out over to
Brownton ’n’ve took the train up there to pick up his toes like you
telled ’em.”

“
God damn them for stupid
bastards!” the receiver spat out furiously, forgetting he had given
instructions for the pair to take whatever measures should prove
necessary to find and kill Geoffrey Crayne. Then he was struck by
another thought. Being of an untrusting persuasion, he was not
enamored of the idea of sending them to retrieve his money. It was
a task, he concluded, which would be best handled personally.
Therefore, giving a shrug, he continued in a less hostile fashion,
“Oh well, it can’t be helped. If you’ll wait here until I’ve
fetched the money for you, you can show me where they’re hiding and
leave the rest of it to me.”

“
You won’t get no argument
with me about doing that,” the Oklahoman declared. “Because I
wasn’t figuring on locking horns with ’em. They might only be
women, but I’d sooner tangle with a starving grizzly b’ar than them
two!”

“
Are they that dangerous!”
Icke asked, impressed by the somber way in which the comment had
been made.

“
Given my ‘druthers’, I’d
sooner pat a diamondback rattler on its head after it’s been
stick-teased for the fighting pit afore I’d lock horns with them.
Not less’n I’d made sure I’d got me a real good edge,
anyways.”

“
Edge?”

“
One way to do it’d be to
make good ’n’ sure I could get up real close without ’em knowing’s
how I was figuring to take them.”

“
How?”

“
Just about the only way’d
be to take out Winnie at the shack, then lay for the ‘Gold-Brick’
when she comes back. Trouble’d be figuring on how to do
it.”

“
But you’d be willing to
do it, if you was told a way?”

“
Not for less’n a thousand
simoleons,” the Oklahoman claimed, his expression warning he would
accept no lesser amount.