Teddy’s hands shot into the air. “That’s right! I’m unarmed!”
“He keeps a little pistol of his own in his right boot,” Tom pointed out.
“Ah. Good!” said LeGrande a grin pulling his lips back from his teeth. Added to the redness of his face, the effect was terrifying. “We’ll say he drew first. The Judge will throw out the case and people will know that Earl LeGrande is not to be trifled with!” He cocked his gun “Everyone here will sign an affidavit saying that he drew first, yes?”
There were nods around the room and an amused chuckle from the Kid. Tom cleared his throat. “Pardon me for saying so, Sir, and I know he deserves nothing better than a hole in that ugly mug of his-.”
“Hey, now. Tom!” Teddy barked.
“But,” Tom continued. “Maybe ‘terrifying gunfighter’ isn’t the moniker that best fits a businessman such as yourself. I’d suggest hauling him in on charges. I’d sign a david saying that.”
“Awfuldavid,” the Kid prodded.
Tom let out a modest laugh. “Pardon me. I meant, I’d sign an awfuldavid. One that says this unruly gentleman tried to pass you forged documents of a cunning nature and so forth. Let me tell you, when he is sent off to prison, word will get around that Earl LeGrande can’t be tricked, scammed, or cheated. Also, this solution has the added benefit that the local women and children won’t be scared of you.”
“You talk sense,” LeGrande said, frowning in disappointment, the color draining from his face. “Damn! I’d always wondered what it would be like to shoot a man.” He placed the Derringer back into his pocket. “Richard, draw up the appropriate affidavit, please.”
“Yes, Mister LeGrande,” said the owlish man. He walked back to the desk in the corner of the room, pulled a piece of paper out of a drawer, and sat down to write.
Tom’s cheeks colored as he heard the correct pronunciation of the word once again. The Kid gave him an innocent look and Tom fixed him with a glower that promised a confrontation as soon as they were alone.
“Mister Davis, take Mister Snodgrass to the sheriff’s office, please,” LeGrande said to the man who had spoken earlier.
“Yes sir,” said the man and he, with the help of the other ruffian, dragged Teddy out of the room.
“I won’t sit still for this, Tom Dunn!” barked Teddy weakly. “You’ll get yours!”
“Good work, Tommy,” said the Kid with a laugh. “We’re in.”
LeGrande returned his attention to Tom. “Mister Dunn, seeing as how I am now one player short for the game that begins tomorrow, I will consider your application.”
Tom grinned. “Thank you kindly, sir.”
“That is, assuming you have the required entrance fee?” he asked.
“Indeed I do,” Tom replied. He stood from the chair and brought the pillowcase to the front of the desk. He began removing the stacks of bills and bags of gold coins and nuggets, placing them on the desk “Fifteen thousand, Sir. Five in treasury notes and ten in gold.”
LeGrande donned a pair of spectacles and eyed the stacks of cash dubiously. “Some of that looks old. No state currency in there?”
“’Course not, Mister LeGrande,” said Tom, glad that he had checked that before. He’d been relieved to see that the sheriff hadn’t kept any obsolete bills. “All national tender.”
“I’ll have to weigh the gold,” the narrow man added.
“Understandable,” Tom said with a nod. This was also something he was prepared for. Tom might not have had the broadest of vocabularies, but one thing he knew was math. After all, a man can’t count money without it. He hadn’t been able to use a scale, but both he and the Kid figured they had a little more than 35 pounds of gold altogether and that had a value of just over $10,000. “And if I’ve overpaid you I expect a refund.”
LeGrande put his spectacles back into his vest pocket. “Very well, Mister Dunn. Assuming all is in order, I shall let you fill Mister Snodgrass’ place in the game. In the meantime, to guarantee the security and privacy of the game, you shall not be allowed to leave the hotel or speak with anyone I have not personally approved. A room shall be provided for you-.”
“Oh, I already got one,” Tom assured him. “Second floor.”
LeGrande gave him a dull look. “A room shall be provided for you here on the third floor where we can monitor you. I believe you will find it more than adequate. Food will be brought to you as well as company . . . if that is your desire-.”
“It is,” Tom was quick to say. This arrangement was turning out better than he had hoped.
“I do not wish to know the details,” LeGrande said, raising a hand. “You will be fetched when it is time to depart. The coach leaves before dawn.”
“In the cover of darkness,” Tom said with a knowing nod. “Smart.”
The man gave Tom a condescending smile. “I am glad you approve, Mister Dunn. Now if you will excuse me, I have preparations to make. Lucien will show you to your room.”
LeGrande gestured towards the door and the burly expressionless man in the fine suit held it open. Tom followed the man out the door and down the balcony towards the other side of the hotel. He looked down into the large room below and saw all the men and women at the bar and at the various gambling tables laughing and drinking and felt a twinge of disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to spend any time down there that night.
Tom paused. “Wait, I left some things in my other room.”
“Do not worry about that, sir,” the burly man said. “Any of your personal items will be brought to the carriage. You’ll get your guns back after the game. Mister LeGrande doesn’t want you folks shooting at each other.”
“Oh. Okay,” Tom said. He supposed he wouldn’t need any of them that night. “And my horse?”
“Provided for,” Lucien replied and stopped at the last room on the balcony. He pushed the door open. “This one is yours for the night.”
Tom stepped inside, his jaw dropping. He had never been in a room so opulent. The walls were painted a rich red with golden borders. The floor was covered in a plush green carpet. Half the room was taken up by a mahogany dresser, standing closet, and a claw footed tub. The other half was dominated by a massive four poster bed covered with plush gold and red pillows.
“Look at you, Tom. Living like royalty,” said the Kid approvingly.
“Do you want a bath drawn?” Lucian asked, standing in the doorway. The man sounded incredibly put out by the duty.
Tom turned back, having almost forgotten Lucien was there. “Oh, no. I took one already.”
Lucien sighed. “Food?”
“A steak!” Tom said immediately, his mouth watering at the thought. “That’s what I need. A big juicy steak . . . and some potatoes!”
“I will tell the kitchen staff,” Lucien replied and turned to leave.
“Oh, and send a woman up as well,” Tom added. “Mister LeGrande said that was possible.”
“Greedy,” the Kid said, shaking his head in mock disapproval.
Lucien turned back, his facial expression unchanging. “Any particular type?”
“Uh, pretty if possible,” Tom replied with a hesitant laugh. “I like blondes but I’ll take a redhead if that’s all you got.”
“Very well,” the man said and turned to leave again.
“Oh! And, you know,” Tom said, gesturing with both hands. “Big up top if that’s possible,”
“I’m leaving now,” Lucien said and stepped out of the room. As he shut the door behind him, he added. “I’ll send the girl up with your steak.”
Tom was awakened by a stinging slap to his forehead. He swung his arms up defensively, but nothing was there. “Oww! What the?” He smelled cloves.
“That Lucien guy is coming,” the Kid warned.
Tom sat up to find that the room was lit only by moonlight coming through the one large window. He looked on the bed beside him to discover that the woman had left in the night. He swung his legs out of the bed and began pulling up the pa
nts that were crumpled on the floor.
There was a soft knock on the door. Lucien opened it and stepped into the room. “Time to go, Mister Dunn.”
“Right. I was just getting up,” Tom said. He continued getting dressed. “So uh, Lucien, great choice on that girl, Jennifer. She was exactly what I asked for. Amazing, really.”
“I’d hope so,” Lucien replied. “She’s my wife.”
Tom froze halfway through buttoning up his vest. He turned to face the intimidating man and tried to determine if there was murder in his expressionless eyes. “You’re not gonna try to kill me now, are you?”
“That was a joke, sir,” the man said.
The Kid barked out a laugh. “I like this guy.”
Tom’s laugh was forced. “Good one, Lucien.”
“Time to go,” Lucien repeated.
“Right,” Tom said as he slid on his jacket. He tried to adjust the cravat in the mirror using only the moonlight. He figured he was semi-successful. Shrugging, he placed his red-star hat on his head. “After you.”
Lucien led Tom down the stairs into the darkened saloon and out the back door. There, a small carriage was waiting. Tom was surprised by just how many people were out walking the streets at this early hour. He and Lucien stepped into the carriage and were taken on a short ride through the city to a large warehouse.
They exited the carriage and Lucien led him to a small office space where Earl LeGrande waited with the rest of the gamblers, bleary eyed from their early wakeup call. Tom felt a hand grasp his shoulder and his nostrils were filled with the scent of cloves.
“We got a problem, Tommy,” whispered the Kid. “One of these men has a backer.”
22: The LeGrande Coach Game
An excerpt from the Tale of Tom Dunn
“The nameless vagabond who stands before you, known to us only as ‘The Kid’ is a thief, a philanderer, a murderer, a traitor to crown and country, and quite possibly spawned by the Devil himself. By God, if there were an efficacious way to execute him twice, I would do it thrice!” – Words spoken by General John Burgoyne on October 11, 1777 as the Kid stood before a firing squad. All of the rifles misfired except for one.
“Come in,” Earl LeGrande beckoned cheerfully. The narrow man was wearing a black suit with a red shirt underneath and a white ribbon bow tie. “You are the last one. Preparations are nearly complete and we should be able to depart shortly.”
Tom entered the room, his eyes taking in the rather eclectic group gathered in the warehouse office. There were eight people in the room; four gamblers and their assistants. Six were men, two women. Tom knew that Mr. LeGrande was of the old tradition that did not believe women should be allowed to gamble, so that meant that four of these men would be his opponents.
“I know you’re probably wondering which one has the legend,” the Kid said softly and Tom wondered if he was being quiet because the other legend could overhear. “Thing is I got no idea. Whoever it is, he’s keepin’ himself quiet, but I can feel him watchin’ us and he’s a strong one.”
“Do you intend to introduce everyone, Earl?” asked one of the men, an old gentleman with a round belly and a neatly-trimmed triangle of a beard. He was pale and wore a suit of white cotton. A genteel woman that looked to be about his same age, stood next to him, her arm linked to his.
LeGrande didn’t seemed to be bothered by the casual use of his first name, which told Tom that he considered this man his peer. “Of course. Gentlemen and ladies, introductions are quite in order.” He started with the older gentleman who had spoken and worked his way around the room. “This is an old friend of mine, Mister Archibald Clay, famous among California gambling circles. Sitting next to him is his beautiful wife, the demure Lady Elayne Clay.”
“Thank you, Earl. You are so kind,” the woman replied with a bland smile. She wore an emerald green dress and a necklace and earrings made of pearl. Her long white hair had been piled high on top of her head and held in place by a lace-draped hairpin.
Tom’s ears were pricked by the man’s name. The Kid chuckled. “So Old Archibald Clay is still around. Possible he’s the one with the backer. Clay was big on the Mississippi years ago. Famous for shootin’ anyone he felt was cheating. I once saw him pull out a tiny pistol and shoot the man across him from under the table. Damn near took the man’s business clean off.”
Tom wondered if the Kid had been alive at the time this had happened or if he had been a specter watching at the side of a different prospect. From comments the specter had made, Tom knew that the Kid had backed others in the past, but he could never pry much else out of him.
LeGrande gestured at the next duo, a slick-haired gentleman with an up-curved mustache who leaned on a cane made of iron with a brass handle. Standing next to him was a clean-shaven black man with short hair slightly graying at the temples. “This is Mister Benjamin Crocker from Spartanburg, South Carolina and his manservant, Irvin Redding. Mister Crocker owns a large textile mill.”
“Straw and cotton,” Crocker emphasized with a thick southern drawn. “And may I make clear that Mistah Redding is a loyal companion of mine and not a slave as some have come to impugn. Slavery was ended at the war; a nasty enterprise that I always despised and am glad to see aboli-.” His sentence was cut off as the black man, smiling politely, gave him a less than subtle elbow to the side. Crocker cleared his throat. “Pardon me. I do tend to drone on.”
LeGrande gave him a nod and moved on to the next man, a short and frail-looking man with square shoulders and a thick mustache. He wore a blue jacket over a red vest and his white shirt was tied with a blue and red bowtie patterned much like a British flag. A bowler hat sat on his head. “This is Mister David Allen Mather. He is rather new to the area and a late addition to the game.”
The man nodded at them, his dark eyes piercing, but he said nothing. Tom noted that he wore a pair of empty holsters at his sides. Actually, there weren’t any guns in the room. It seemed Tom wasn’t the only one whose weapons had been taken away.
“Shoot, it could be any of these men, I sense strong talents in near all of ’em,” the Kid grumbled.
“Mister Mather did not bring a second with him, so my employee, Mister Davis will be assisting him as needed,” LeGrande added, nodding to the man who stood just behind Mather. He was a bland-faced tough that Tom remembered as one of the men that had dragged Teddy Snodgrass away the day before.
“Next we have Mister Hyman Neill,” LeGrande said. “An accomplished poker player who is joining us most recently from Mexico, I understand.”
The man was tall and slender with light brown hair and a thick manicured mustache that didn’t quite touch the corners of his lips. He wore a duster over a worn suit, seemingly unconcerned about the proper nature of the undertaking. He smiled, exposing a gold tooth.
“My friends call me Hoodoo,” the man said. His voice had a strange vibration in it that made Tom slightly uneasy. “Hoodoo Brown.”
The Kid let out a low whistle. “Damn, Tommy, it’s even harder to pick out who’s got the backer now. That one’s crawling with witchery and the girl behind him’s coiled around him like a snake.”
Tom’s eyes were already on the woman. She was pretty, with thick and curly red hair that was piled up and coiffed on top of her head, exposing a slender neck. Her eyes were a light brown and she had a fine figure that was shown off by a blue lace dress with a bounteous bustle.
Her eyes met his briefly and Tom was struck by a sudden familiarity. It was as if he knew her from somewhere, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember where. She looked away quickly and the moment passed.
“The woman with him is Miss Katherine Weiss. She will be assisting ‘Hoodoo’ on our journey,” LeGrande said. He turned to face Tom and, to Tom’s surprise, there was a coldness in his gaze. “Our last player and most recent addition to the game is Mister Tomas Jefferson Dunn,”
“Huh-oh,” said the Kid and though Tom kept his expression neutral, he had to agree. For a brief mo
ment he was flummoxed how the man had learned his full name. Had he received a bounty notice via telegraph? Then he remembered that LeGrande’s men had retrieved his saddlebags from his room on the second floor of the hotel. His bounty poster had been inside.
“Uh, I prefer Tom if you don’t mind,” Tom said to the others, irritated that the man had searched through his things. “My friends call me ‘Lucky’, though.”
The Kid raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re really choosing now to try and get that started?”
“You are from a small town south of here if I am correct?” LeGrande said condescendingly.
Tom gave him a gracious nod. So the man was a little irritated that he had unknowingly allowed a small time outlaw into his game, was he? Tom couldn’t help but get in a dig. “Yes, Sir. Luna Gorda. It’s a modest town near the border with Texas. Nothin’ as big as your fine city, but quickly growing. Railroad came in earlier this year and it has really brought the people in. You lot are hoping to get a line through Las Vegas too one day, am I right?”
LeGrande’s smile chilled. “Indeed. There have been some delays, but we’re counting on it.”
“I’m sure you’ll get one,” Tom replied encouragingly. “Say, I don’t have an assistant of my own. Can I do like Mister Mather and select one of your employees?”
“I have already assigned Mister Lucien,” LeGrande replied. “Since you are already so well acquainted.”
“Great!” said Tom, turning to grin at the burly man with the expressionless face. He grasped the man’s thick arm. “You and me, Lucien. We’ll be the most entertaining duo on the trip.”
“Don’t touch me. Sir.” Lucien said and Tom removed his hand quickly.
“Yeah. Don’t overdo it, Tommy,” the Kid said.
There was a soft knock at the office’s inner door and a man with a face almost as meaty as Lucien’s stuck his head into the room. “We are ready, Sir.”
“Ah!” said LeGrande, his temperament improved. “Now that you all know each other it is time we left. Follow me. I believe you’ll be impressed.”
Noose Jumpers: A Mythological Western Page 29
