As they rose from their chairs and walked toward him, Brad took out his tablet and pencil.
Julio and Wilbur sat on the large divan with Brad. They faced the door at an angle and could still see the desk from where they were.
“Wilbur,” Brad said. “I’m going to make you an offer. I want you to think long and hard about it, because it has to do with your future.”
“Huh?”
“Just listen real hard,” Brad said.
“I’m listening.”
Brad kept his voice low so that the clerk could not hear him. Julio and Wilbur both leaned toward him so they could listen.
“I was going to send Julio into the saloon with the message I’m about to write. But it would be better if the man the message is for sees you and that you confirm we have all the horses. But if you do anything more than that, you’ll probably hang for your part in all this horse thieving.”
“What’s your offer?” Wilbur asked.
“If you back up Julio and walk out with him, then I’ll see to it that you’re not prosecuted as a horse thief. You won’t even go to jail.”
Wilbur took off his hat and wiped a ring of sweat from his forehead.
“Boy, you drive a hard bargain. What do I say to Jordan?”
“You tell him that Trask is in jail and that you’re helping with the herd under my orders.”
“Hell, he’ll probably tell Dugan or Hemphill to shoot me on the spot. Maybe Julio will go down, too.”
“Not if you tell him that Julio is just a wrangler who’s helping with the herd. You say you rode up with him to deliver my message to him.”
Wilbur scratched his head. “Boy, I don’t know,” he said.
“Think about it. I’m going to write my message now and give it to Julio. Then I’ll want an answer. If you don’t go with Julio to meet Jordan, you’ll be with me and I’ll drop you off in the Denver jailhouse.”
Wilbur put his hat back on. He looked at Julio, who shrugged and wore a look of innocence on his face.
Brad wrote with careful strokes.
When he was finished, he read the note. Here is what it said:
To Jordan Killdeer
I have all the horses you stole. Three hundred head. I am willing to sell all of them back to you for $5.00 a head. You come down to Wild Horse Valley with $1,500 in cash and you can have all the horses back. Otherwise, I’m going to sell them myself to the army in Fort Leavenworth.
He signed it: “Brad Storm.”
He folded the note and handed it to Julio.
“Julio, you tell him that you work for me as a horse wrangler and that we plan to drive the horses from the valley if he doesn’t buy them. Will you remember that?”
“I remember. I will tell him we are going to sell the horses if he does not buy them.”
Then Brad turned to Wilbur.
“You, Wilbur, if you decide to take me up on my offer, will back up Julio. You tell Killdeer I mean business. You tell him that I’m a horse rancher and have connections with the U.S. Army. Are you willing to do that?”
“What does the note say?” Wilbur asked.
“You don’t need to know what it says. You just watch Jordan when he reads it and tell Jordan you’re going back down with Julio. You tell him if you and Julio don’t show up, that I and my wranglers are going to drive the herd to Kansas.”
“Jordan’s goin’ to be hoppin’ mad,” Wilbur said.
“You tell him he has a week and a half to come down and buy those horses from me.”
“He might know I’m lyin’,” Wilbur said.
“He’d better not, Wilbur. You’re on a short rope right now. I’ve got a pair of handcuffs in my saddlebag and I’m ready to haul your ass off to jail and file charges against you for horse thieving.”
“I guess I don’t have no choice. Except I could tell Jordan that I don’t want no part of it and he’ll have his men kill Julio.”
“You do that, Wilbur, and you won’t live long enough to hang.”
Wilbur went silent.
Brad and Julio waited for him to decide which side of the fence he was on.
Finally, Wilbur took a deep breath and let it out.
“All right, I’ll do it. I think your detective agency is goin’ to get Jordan sooner or later, one way or another, so I’d rather throw in with you so I don’t do no jail time.”
“Or hang,” Brad said.
“Or hang.”
Four men in cavalry uniforms rode up to the hotel and dismounted. They tied their horses to the hitch rail and walked into the hotel.
They were led by a colonel, and he was followed by a captain, a major, and a lieutenant. They strode into the lobby with satisfied looks on their faces. They stood tall and straight and the dust on their boots told Brad that they had done some traveling that day.
The three top officers stopped in the center of the lobby while the lieutenant walked to the desk to get their room keys.
Brad stood up.
“Colonel Meacham,” he said. “I wonder if I can have a few words with you.”
The colonel looked surprised.
“Why, certainly, sir. How did you know who I was?”
Brad smiled.
“Your reputation precedes you, sir,” he said with his most diplomatic tone of voice.
“Why, of course,” Meacham said.
“Perhaps we can talk privately, sir,” Brad said. “I won’t take up much of your time.”
“To be sure. There are two chairs over there. We can converse in private.”
Julio and Wilbur watched as the colonel and Brad walked to the two large chairs and sat down. The other officers turned their backs on their colonel and got their keys from the lieutenant. They whispered something to him. Then, they climbed the stairs and left the lieutenant standing there with two sets of keys in their hands.
“Now, sir,” Meacham said after he sat down, “what is it you wish to discuss with me?”
“Horses,” Brad said.
The colonel smiled. He seemed eager to oblige.
Brad had grabbed his attention with just that one word.
Brad knew he had hooked the colonel and that he would have to say little else to obtain the information he sought.
“Horses,” Meacham said, beaming, “yes, the engine of the cavalry. I love ’em.”
Brad had to ask only a single question and he was pretty sure the colonel would gladly answer it.
When Meacham crossed his legs and sat back in his chair, Brad was sure of it.
All he had to do was ask one question.
Just one.
TWENTY-TWO
The question perched on the tip of Brad’s mind, then flew to his lips.
“Colonel, is the army interested in buying any new mounts for the cavalry?”
Meacham drew himself up straight in his chair. His neatly trimmed sideburns and short-cropped hair seemed to reflect the stiffness of his military bearing. He was broad-chested and square-shouldered, with a ruddy face that seemed chiseled out of the same cloth as his uniform.
“Why, as a matter of fact,” he said, “I’ve just contracted with a rancher here in Cheyenne. Perhaps you know him, Jordan Killdeer. He raises fine horses. I’ve issued him a purchase order just this morning for two hundred head to be delivered in sixty days time to Fort Laramie, subject to my approval, of course.”
“Hmm. That’s a sizeable order,” Brad said.
“Mr. Killdeer did not seem fazed by my request. Do you know the man?”
“Yes,” Brad said.
“You raise horses, do you?”
“A few,” Brad said. “Is there any chance you will be needing more?”
“Matter of fact, we may. There is trouble up north with the Sioux and Cheyenne, still, and General Crook may be stepping up the campaigns. S
o we are prepared to meet the challenges should they develop.”
“Well, Colonel, thanks for your time. If I’m in Fort Laramie, I will surely call on you again, with your permission, of course.”
“Always glad to talk horses with a breeder,” Meacham said.
He rose from his chair. “Good-bye, sir. Sorry we could not do business, but I’m sure you understand.”
“I do,” Brad said. “Good-bye, Colonel.”
The colonel walked over to the lieutenant who gave him his room key. The two left the lobby. Brad went back to the divan.
“I’ll wait for you outside the saloon,” he told them. “As soon as you come out, we’ll leave for Wild Horse Valley.”
The setting sun painted shadows on the street and the sides of buildings as Brad looked out the window.
“We’ll wait until just after dusk,” he said.
“Killdeer will be at the saloon right after sunset,” Wilbur said.
An hour later, with a faint glow in the sky, Wilbur and Julio walked out of the hotel and down to the saloon. Brad waited another fifteen minutes, then left the hotel. He unwrapped the reins of their horses and strolled down to the saloon. He tied the reins to the hitch rail, then crossed the street and stood in the shadows between two buildings. He watched men ride up and dismount, then enter the saloon. A few minutes later, he heard musicians tune up their instruments inside the Silver Queen.
He did not see the horses that he had seen at Killdeer’s ranch. He reasoned that they were probably in back of the saloon, along with Killdeer’s. It didn’t matter. He was ready to leave as soon as Wilbur and Julio emerged from the Silver Queen.
The sky darkened and stars began to appear like tiny gems on a charcoal sky.
The waiting seemed an eternity as the evening breeze stiffened and blew through the chimney between the buildings where Brad stood. He buttoned his jacket up tight and tightened his hat’s grip on his head.
He waited with his hands in his pockets. One of them stroked the swatch of blue flannel and it gave him some comfort as the minutes crawled along like snails in a torpor.
TWENTY-THREE
One of the bartenders looked up as Wilbur and Julio came in through the bat-wing doors of the saloon. There were only three men at the bar and two more at a table.
“Why, howdy, Wil,” the bartender said. “long time no see.”
“Howdy, Ed,” Wilbur said. “Jordan back in his office?”
“Sure is. With Dugan and Hemphill. Just holler if you need anything.”
“Sure will, Ed,” Wilbur said. Then he turned to Julio. “Follow me,” he said.
There was a dark hallway beyond the bar leading to a back room and door. Near the end, lamplight cast an ochre glow across the hall and shimmered on the wall. Wilbur walked to the light and turned into the office, with Julio right behind him.
The outer office had a small divan, two chairs, a table, an ashtray, and a lamp. Seated at the table was Cletus Hemphill, a large beer-bellied man with a perpetually frowning mouth, close-set porcine eyes, and a pair of puffy, wet lips. His hat was off, hanging on a clothes tree in the corner. He was playing solitaire with a deck of worn cards that were stained with tobacco, whiskey, beer, and spittle. Hemphill had a wad of chewing tobacco in his mouth. He looked up when the two men entered the room. His small eyes narrowed as he recognized Wilbur.
“What you doin’ here, Wilbur?” Hemphill said. “I thought you was up in the mountains.”
“I got a message for Jordan, Clete,” Wilbur said. “Can I see him?”
“What you doin’ with a Mex in tow?”
“He’s the messenger. I’m just escortin’ him. I’d like to talk with Jordan.”
Hemphill put down the cards in his hand, setting them to the side of the piles of open-faced ones.
“He’s in there. Just knock three times and wait for him to let you in. Him or Toby. Toby’s in there with him.”
“Thanks, Clete,” Wilbur said.
He walked to the door of the inner office and knocked three times.
“Who is it?” called out a voice that was Toby Dugan’s.
“It’s Wilbur Campbell.”
“It’s open. Walk in,” Toby said through the door.
Wilbur opened the door. He and Julio walked in to a large room with a pair of cheap desks, one of them piled high with receipts and bills of lading. At the other one sat Jordan Killdeer.
“Wil,” Jordan said. “What in hell are you doing down here? Who in hell’s watchin’ after the horses?”
Jordan was a short stocky man with coal-black hair that hung straight down. He had an aquiline nose and bright brown eyes set symmetrically parallel in a face that looked hammered out of copper. Toby was a tall, lanky man with a scarred pair of lips that were fixed in a constant snarl. He wore a thin muslin shirt stained with unknown substances. A hand-rolled cigarette dangled from his mouth. He sat in a chair next to the cluttered desk.
“Nobody’s watching the herd, Jordan,” Wilbur said. “Jack’s in the Denver jail and they let me go so’s I could bring Julio down here to give you a message.”
“This is some kind of shit,” Jordan said. He looked at Julio. “Who in hell are you?” he asked.
“I am Julio Aragon. I got a message for you.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the folded note. He stepped forward with his hand outstretched and handed the note to Jordan.
Jordan opened the slip of paper and read it. He read it twice. His face did not betray his emotions. His expression was as impassive as stone.
“Who in the hell is this Brad Storm?” he asked Wilbur.
“He’s . . .” Wilbur hesitated and looked at Julio. Julio’s eyes narrowed and then opened.
“Yeah, go on,” Jordan said.
“He’s the man who jumped us and another man carted Jack off to jail down in Denver.”
“This is a hell of a thing,” Jordan said.
“I just brought the messenger down, Jordan. I got to go back with him or that herd’s going to be gone.”
“Yeah, that’s what the note says.”
Jordan looked over at Toby.
“We got big trouble, Toby,” he said.
“Anything we can’t handle?” Toby said.
“I’m thinking about it,” Jordan said. “Some sonofabitch has stolen our horses and is holding a gun to my head to buy ’em back.”
“Buy ’em back? They’re our horses, ain’t they?”
“Wil, something smells about this whole deal,” Jordan said.
“You know all I know,” Wilbur said. “More, because I don’t know what the note says.”
“Read it,” Jordan said and thrust the note at Wilbur.
Wilbur read it.
Jordan turned to Julio.
“Do you know what the note says?” he asked.
“I do not read,” Julio said.
“Does that mean you can’t read or you just don’t read?” Jordan asked Julio.
“I do not know how to read or write,” Julio said.
“A hell of a messenger you are, Mex.”
Julio said nothing.
Wilbur read the note again. “I guess he’s got you by the short hairs, Jordan,” he said.
“Who is this man that sent the note? Is he a gunslinger? A rustler? I never heard of him,” Jordan said.
“I don’t know who he is, Jordan. I never saw him before. But he had men with him and he got the drop on us. One of ’em took Jack off to jail.”
“Who was the other man?” Jordan asked.
Wilbur shrugged.
“I don’t know,” he said. His legs started to shake and he handed the note back to Jordan.
“Was he the law?” Jordan asked.
“I don’t know, Jordan. I just know he said he was going to
put Jack in jail and if I didn’t agree to come down here, I’d probably be in jail now, too.”
“This is just shit,” Jordan said, his anger rising so that the bronze of his face was turning vermilion.
“You tell this man I’ll pay his price,” Jordan said. “But if there’s anything squirrelly about the deal, me and my men will just blow him clean to hell. You got that?”
“Sure, Jordan. Far as I know, this man just wants to make a little quick money.”
“What do you have to say, Mex?” Jordan asked. He glared at Julio.
“This man, this Storm, he just hire me to look after the horses. I don’t know nothing.”
“No, you sure as hell don’t,” Jordan said, a look of disgust on his face.
“Sorry, Jordan. I had no choice,” Wilbur said.
“Get the hell out of here, Wilbur. Me and the boys will ride to the valley and deal with this Storm feller. Get your ass out of my sight.”
Wilbur turned to go.
“Hold on a minute,” Jordan said.
Wilbur turned back around. He tried to look meek and wished his legs would stop trembling.
“You tell this Storm I’ll pay his price, but he’s got to get Jack out of jail and have him there when I come down. You got that?”
“Yeah, I got it, Jordan.”
“Now, get a-goin’, Wilbur, you sorry sonofabitch.”
Wilbur and Julio left the office. He heard Jordan pound the desk with his fist and cringed. He could feel the anger come through the walls and slap him on the back.
Julio and Wilbur walked straight to the bat-wing doors and out into the night.
“Whew,” Wilbur said when they were outside. “I thought he was goin’ to draw down on us and put out our lamps.”
“He wants the horses more than he wants to kill us,” Julio said.
They went to their horses. Brad emerged from the shadowy passageway between the two buildings and joined them.
Wilbur started to say something.
“We’ll talk about it on the way,” Brad said. “We got to light a shuck before Killdeer’s had a chance to think about my offer.”
The three men mounted up and rode at a brisk pace out of town. Wilbur kept looking back, and so did Julio. Brad stared straight ahead at the empty road. There were no travelers at that time of the night. The stars were out and the moon had not yet risen.
Nest of Vipers (9781101613283) Page 12
