by Lou Bradshaw
Then it came to mind that he may be playing with some extra cards or maybe some that were marked one way or another. He could be sitting there thinking I had picked up on whatever it was he was doing. Well, I sure hadn’t, I’ve never played enough hands of cards to have any idea about that sort of business. But whatever was going on in that fellas mind, he was sure enough uncomfortable with me watching, so I turned back to the bar.
Looking up into that big streaked and fly specked mirror behind the bar, I saw that fella cash in and head for the back door. The whole time he was scootin’ out of there he kept looking back my way… Now, what the hell was that all about?
Then it hit me like a rock slide. I’d seen that fella before, but it was so quick and so much was going on that I really didn’t think I’d even seen his face. But that was the face I saw just before he shoved that fat woman into me and sent us crashing through the hitch rail back there in Creede. With all the bullets lacing the air that day, it’s a wonder that anybody saw anything. But I saw enough of Frank Dooly to leave an impression.
Turning away from the mirror and back toward the room, I saw the last of Frank disappear through the door and turn left. I ran to the back door and cautiously stuck my head around the frame.… He was gone.
Pulling back and turning back to the room, I gave a sharp whistle and bolted to the table Dooly had just vacated. Another player was just about to take the empty seat, but I grabbed it first and pulled it away.
“Hey, what’s the big idea…” I cut the would-be card player off as Dog skidded to a stop beside me.
“Hold on a second, friend that was a stone cold killer and bank robber who was sitten’ here… Just let me give this dog a good sniff of him… Otherwise he’ll get away, and I’ll have to sic the dog on you.”
He didn’t know what to make of me, but he wanted no part of that unholy beast. So he just kinda backed up and let Dog do his work. The big brute took a couple of good sniffs of the chair seat and I assume Frank’s seat as well. Not something I would have done unless someone was pressing a six-shooter to my head. I guess Dog had a higher callin’.
Dog seemed to be pondering what he was smelling for a few seconds, and then he sneezed and took another sniff. He gave me a low gruff bark and headed for the back door with his nose to the floor. I handed the chair to the gent who had originally intended to use it and thanked him kindly. Looking back as I went out the back door that fella was still holding that chair. Maybe he didn’t want to get into that game after all.
We found ourselves in an alley with the back doors of buildings on both sides. Looking up the alley I could see nothing but piles of trash for at least three blocks. It was pretty much the same looking the other way, except there seemed to be bigger piles of trash. Dog wasn’t waiting for me; he was trotting on up the alley at a pretty good clip. He had the trail. If he could get a sniff of Rita’s behind, I’m sure he could pick her out of a crowd.
At the end of the second block, Dog turned to the left. Frank had deserted the alley and had taken to the cross street. Two blocks up, we turned right and were going parallel to the street that the Golden Spur Saloon faced. Old Frank was doing his best to shake me because he did some pretty complicated ziggin’ and zaggin’. After a whole bunch of turns, we found ourselves only three blocks north of the Golden Spur, but it was in a second level neighborhood. These folks had plenty of money, but not lighting cigars with ten dollar bank notes rich.
I was fully aware that I was out of place walking around this neighborhood in grubby buckskins. So I just kinda stood back in the shadows and sent Dog on to locate Frank and the little woman. A dog is a dog, and they can roam around without anybody getting too concerned. They’ll just run them off if they seem to be a nuisance and not give it another thought. The only problem was, Dog didn’t take too well to being run off by anyone.
So I walked along the opposite side of the street trying not to be conspicuous. Dog kept his nose close to the boardwalk and sniffed his way to the front door of the Cambridge Hotel. The door was closed, and Dog wanted in, so he set up a dreadful howl. When the dressed like a Mexican General came to the door carrying a broom, I had to save him some grief and gave a short shrill whistle. Dog turned and made a bee line for my side of the street. The General puffed out his chest and was quite proud of himself as he went back inside.
The fair hand that I was at getting around in the wild country, didn’t count much when it came two and three story buildings with front and back doors. I was going to give Deputy US Marshal, temporarily in charge, Claybrook a chance to do something besides bother his clerk. My hotel wasn’t too far away, and I figured to need a horse before the day was out. So I swung by there and picked up the roan.
I pulled up in front of the Marshal’s office and stuck my head inside. He was sitting on the edge of his desk rolling a cigarette, and he was looking in need of something to do.
“I got ‘em located… you want in on the fun?” I called out across the room.
“You better damned well believe it.” he yelled back as he pulled on his gunbelt, and tossed the half rolled smoke at the nearest spittoon.
As we jogged our horses up to the Cambridge Hotel I explained what had come about, and the crooked trail Frank had left for all the good it had done him. We worked it out that we would go in and find the room number from the desk clerk, and then I would cover the back door while the marshal rooted them out of their room.
“Now, Claybrook, you be real careful when you go bangin’ on that door. Them people have a tendency to start shootin’ in all directions. They cain’t shoot for sour apples, but they keep on shootin’ till they hit something. They sure spray a lot of lead when they take a notion to.”
“Don’t you worry, Cain, when it comes to being careful… I’m a master.”
“Un..Huh, you just see that you do… I got one Deputy mending down in Creede, I don’t need another one gettin’ shot up here in Denver…. Jasper Stewart won’t let you boys come out play with me if you go gettin’ yourselves full of holes.”
He was chuckling and promising to be careful as we went through the front door of the Cambridge. The clerk at the desk gave me a once over, and then he looked down at Dog and rang for the General to get a dog out of the lobby.
The man came from behind his little desk and got a broom from a closet. He strode toward Dog with a ton of confidence. “General, you better get yourself a bigger stick if you don’t want to lose about half your clothes and a good deal of your hide because that little broom ain’t gonna be enough.” Dog was staring at the man and started his low growl, and the General started backing up.
“Put that damned broom back in its closet, and you get back to your little pulpit. The man and the dog are with me.” Claybrook told him in a firm but flat tone of voice.
The clerk asked, “And you are….?”
“Ethan Claybrook, Deputy US Marshal, now what room are Frank and Rita Dooly in?”
“There’s no one here by that name.” The clerk replied with a little less attitude than he had been showing.
Claybrook had the clerk pinned like a bug with his stare. Without taking his eyes off the man he asked me, “Cain, how was Dooly dressed?” I was able to tell him right down to the bowler hat.
“Oh that would be Mister DuLette… and his wife…. Frank and Rita DuLette… not Dooly.”
Claybrook slammed his fist down on the desk so hard that an ink bottle bounced and spilled. He leaned across the desk sticking face just inches from the clerks and growled, “Moron! Their name is Dooly and they’ve left bodies scattered across Texas, New Mexico, and Colorado… along with kidnapping, bank robbery, attempted murder of a US Marshal, and God only knows what else… And you’re splitting hairs over the name! You’re an idiot!
“Now are you going to tell me what room they’re in or do I send Mister Cain back there to wring it out of you?”
“T… They’re in th…the P..Presidential suit…. Th.. Third Floor.”
Clay
brook grabbed the key from the clerk and headed up the stairs two at a time. I was out the door and around the side of the building heading for the alley. Just as I turned into it, I heard someone making a hell of a racket at the back door. I ducked back under cover until I knew what was coming out of there.
Chapter 18
I heard someone yelling and cussing and calling for Rita. It could only be old Frank boy needing some help with the door. Then the door burst open and Frank came crashing through it loaded with luggage. He had two large carpet bags, one in his right hand and the other under his right arm. In his left hand, he had a leather valise.
When he cleared the door, he looked up the alley to the west and called out, “Rita… Rita! Now where the hell did she get to?”
I stepped out from cover with six-gun in hand and yelled, “Dooly! Drop the bags and get your hands in the air!”
He was standing on a little back porch about two feet higher than the alley. His head swung around in my direction, and to my surprise he dropped the two carpet bags. But he threw the valise at me and went grabbing for his pistol. The valise wasn’t any problem, I just side stepped it and pulled the trigger and held it while I pulled the hammer again and let it slip. Both slugs hit him in the big part of the body… right where I had been looking. I hadn’t the time to be particular when picking my target.
His Colt clattered on the porch as Frank slammed against the back wall of the Cambridge. He just sort of slid down to a sitting position with both hands clutching his midsection… That fancy vest looked like a buffalo had just been birthed on it. He just sat there with a look that said he didn’t know what had just happened to him. He was in shock for the time being, and the pain hadn’t hit him yet. When it did, he’d know what had happened to him.
Just inside the door was a stairway, and it sounded like somebody was trying to bring a couple of mules down the steps. It didn’t sound like a woman coming down, but I picked up his gun and stepped back and waited. If Rita came through that door, I was goin’ to have to shoot her. There was no question about it because she’d come through the door blasting the hell out of anything and everything… that’s how she was. I was ready for it.
Instead of a couple of mules coming through that door, Claybrook poked his head around the edge of the doorframe and quickly drew it back.
I called out, “It’s all right, Claybrook, just me, Frank Dooly, and Dog out here. I reckon Rita done lit out… Frank there’s gone and got himself shot. I musta hit a lung, but you got a little time to get something out of him, if he’ll talk.”
About that time, the door to the left of where Claybrook was standing started to open a crack. Immediately we both had our six-guns trained on it.
The marshal spoke, “You at the door… come on out with your hands in plain sight, by the time I count three, or we’ll shoot that door to splinters… One…”
The door slowly swung open and a pair of ink stained hands led the way and were followed by the thin, beak nosed and trembling face of the hotel clerk. Claybrook grabbed a fist full of shirt and hauled him out through and into the landing at the bottom of the stairs.
“This man has been shot and needs a doctor… Go get one… and be quick about it.”
“I can’t. I can’t leave the hotel when I’m on duty. And besides, he’s already checked out, so he’s no longer the hotels responsibility.”
“Then send that fella that chases dogs out… otherwise we’re going to drag him inside and he’ll just bleed to death in the lobby on that fancy couch.” I was beginning to like this Claybrook fella.
As the clerk scurried away, he called out, “But the bellman works for gratuities.”
The marshal replied, “Well give him some!” and mumble under his breath…”Whatever the hell that is.”
While waiting for the doctor to show up, I gathered up Frank’s carpetbags and the valise. I set them on the porch. Claybrook was trying to get information from Dooly, but Frank wasn’t about to tell him a thing. The pain hadn’t set in yet and the worst thing Frank feared at that time was the hangman, but that was somewhere in the future. Right then he was numb.
“Cain, take look in those bags, and see if there’s anything that could tell us where they were heading. It’s a slim chance, but it’s worth a shot.”
The first one had men’s clothes in it along with things like a razor, hair brushes, and boot black. The other was filled with women’s fixins… dresses and drawers and things that I couldn’t even describe, let alone know what they were called.
When I opened the valise, I nearly dropped it. That little leather case was filled with money. “Claybrook, have a look at this.” And I held it up to him.
His eyes got big as dollars and the first thing he said was, “Holy…” but the next thing he said had nothing to do with religion and I’m sure it ain’t mentioned in the Bible.
“Cain, there’s got to be five or six thousand dollars in there!”
Frank laughed, and then showed the first signs of pain with a grimace and a catch in his breath, “You stupid law dogs. What would you know about money? Except that you ain’t got none of it… There’s over sixteen thousand dollars there. And it’s all mine, now that Rita run off on me…Ha!” His breath was coming in gasps, and he had started spitting up blood.
“I hate to tell you this, Dooly, but this money is going back to the banks you stole it from… The way we got it figured, you stole a little over nineteen thousand dollars. That sound about right?” Frank nodded his head and winced at the pain.
“Your wife got the rest of it, does she?”
He tried to laugh, but it was more akin to a teeth baring grunt and he said, “I ain’t got no wife…. You really don’t know nothin’. My folks took her in…. she’s some kind of kin… meanest woman on earth…. Kill you as soon as look at you…. Killed a whole family… down in Texas…. meanest woman on earth…”
Claybrook didn’t let up, “Let me rephrase that. Does Rita have the rest of the money.”
“What rest? That’s all there is… she might have a couple hundred dollars in her purse… no real money…. We been livin’ good.”
Claybrook turned to me and said, “How far you think she’ll get on a two or three hundred dollars?”
“If she plays her cards right, she could get clear over into Mormon country, or even California. But that would mean livin’ off the land… my guess is she’ll find herself some lonely old boy with a sack of gold and a short future.” He nodded agreement.
Frank was starting to feel some serious pain, and all we could get out of him was moaning, crying, and a good deal of swearing. The doc showed up dressed for the opera with white gloves and a silk cape. He gave Claybrook a small size bottle of Laudanum and wrote down how to mix the doses.
“Aren’t you even going to examine him?” The marshal asked.
“Certainly not! I’m not ruining these clothes for some lung shot outlaw…. He won’t last long anyway…. Who should I send the bill to?”
Claybrook dipped into that valise, pulled out a ten dollar bank note and said, “Don’t bother.” And stuffed it into the doc’s vest pocket.
“Is the Presidential Suite unlocked?” I asked.
“Uh… Yeah… I just got it opened when I heard the shootin’. I think I left the door open… so I could break my neck comin’ down those stairs… Hey, Cain, what do ya make of all this?”
He had been reading the instructions the doc had left for mixing the Laudanum. He handed to me, and I looked at it. I’m the kind of person who will look at almost anything that’s shoved at him. It didn’t make any sense to me at all. It was just a bunch of numbers all lined up with hash marks.
“Nope, all I got out of that was “Mix with one glass of water.”
Claybrook scratched his chin and said, “That’s all I understood too. It doesn’t say how big a glass to use…. A shot glass or a beer mug?”
I left him pondering the document and I went upstairs to the Presidential Suit. They ha
dn’t done as much damage to the rooms as they had to that cabin back in the Sangre de Cristos… Well, at least they didn’t try to set it on fire. Curtains were torn from the windows, pictures from the walls were smashed, vases were busted, and clothes were scattered everywhere.
The clothes were what I wanted. That piece of petticoat that I’d been having Dog sniff was probably getting pretty well aired out and losing its potency by then. There was plenty to choose from, but some of it looked like it had just been washed. When I found that pair of rumpled drawers in a hamper, I knew I’d struck the mother lode. So I just folded them up and wrapped them in paper, and then I washed my hands. I figured old Dog would get a good nose full whether he liked it or not.
By the time I got back down stairs, Claybrook had figured out what to do with the Laudanum, or close enough to get by.
When I asked him what he decided he told me, “It was all those fractions that got me confused, so I just let him take the whole thing and drink as much water as he wanted… kinda like a chaser.”
I took the bottle and read… Enough for 4 doses. “Sounds like the best way to do it.” I told him.
We watched as Dooly quieted down and then drifted off to sleep. And then we watched as his breathing slowed down and then stopped.
Claybrook looked over at me and said, “You suppose that stuff was a little too powerful for him?”
“Coulda been. That doc shoulda examined him to see if he could take it… I’m goin’ to see if Dog can find out where Rita headed. You comin’ or have you got to take care of that money and that body?”
“I’ll have to get the undertaker over here, and then get this money counted and in the safe… When you get finished come on back to the office and we’ll get some supper.”
Walking between the hotel and the shop next to it, I got my horse and brought him back to the alley. Unwrapping those drawers, I let Dog get a good sniff… He didn’t seem to mind it, and he picked up the trail right away. And he was off trotting up the alley. He took off so fast that I barely had time to wrap those drawers up again. I didn’t have a chance to wash my hands again.
