Red River Showdown

by J. R. Roberts

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Mia fluttered around the saloon like a nervous humming-bird while Clint downed his coffee and piled some eggs between two slices of toast. It took him all of half a minute to do that, but she fretted as if he was taking his own sweet time.

  Clint was actually anxious, too, but he figured he might not be able to stop and eat if things went to hell. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be quite the case.

  “All right,” he said once they were outside the saloon. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I’ve been looking for Jean Claude and he’s nowhere to be found.”

  “Maybe he’s in his room.”

  “I checked there,” she replied almost instantly.

  “Then maybe he’s in someone else’s room. Mia, this isn’t exactly the sort of thing where a man feels like he’s got to check in every few minutes. This is a riverboat full of poker games and pretty women. It’s kind of easy to get lost in something like that.”

  Although she was still anxious, Mia shifted her eyes to him and said, “I suppose you’d know all about that.”

  “Yeah,” Clint said without hesitation. “I sure would. I’m not here to work, you know.”

  Mia grabbed Clint by the elbow and pulled him even farther away from the saloon. Before she started talking, she spotted a pair of men walking toward them and then pulled Clint even closer to the rail. Once those men had walked by, she whispered, “I am here to work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s some men on board this boat who are wanted by the law, and I mean to bring them in before they do any damage. At least, I’d hoped to get to them in time, but it looks like I’m already too late.”

  Clint chewed on the eggs and toast he’d bitten off and then swallowed. “So you’re a bounty hunter?”

  Mia shook her head and looked around some more. Since there wasn’t anyone in earshot apart from a few birds circling overhead, she told him, “I work with the Texas Rangers.” When she saw the look that brought to Clint’s face, she asked, “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing funny, just a little . . .”

  “What?”

  “Far-fetched is more like it.” Clint wiped his mouth with the back of his hand so he could speak a little clearer. “I’ve worked with plenty of Texas Rangers and they’re a proud bunch. They’re also not the sort who would allow a woman to ride along with them. No offense, but that’s just the way they are.”

  “So you think I’m lying?”

  “Not yet. Keep talking.”

  Sighing, Mia continued in a strained voice. “Do you know of a man named Jack Solomon?”

  Clint thought that over as he took another bite of his sandwich. “No.”

  “He’s wanted for everything under the sun, from stealing and running scams to kidnapping and murder. He’s also very good at keeping his head down and not attracting a lot of attention. He arranged to get himself invited onto this riverboat so he could get a shot at all the rich gamblers coming on board.”

  “Then he’s in for a surprise,” Clint said. “I’ve never met a gambler who’s truly rich.”

  “Have you met one that wouldn’t scrape together one hell of a bankroll to prepare himself for something like this?”

  Clint took another bite, but didn’t have to think for very long to come up with the answer for that one. “Good point,” he said through a mouthful of eggs.

  “Lots of the gamblers here have some way to get their hands on more money if they need it badly enough,” Mia continued. “Some have friends who owe them. Some have it stashed away in banks all over the country. And some, like Jean Claude Vessele, have rich families who can pull together plenty of cash if they had to.”

  “How do you know about Jean Claude’s family?” Clint asked.

  “We’ve been trying to get ahold of Jack Solomon for some time, and one of his killers led us to Vessele. That same killer led us to a bunch of other gamblers, until we found out they were all being scouted until they could all be brought to one place.”

  “So what’s supposed to happen now that they’re here?” Clint asked. “Is this Solomon fellow going to rob them right under the noses of all these armed guards?”

  “I’m pretty sure at least some of those guards are working for Solomon. Considering his reputation and what we know about his partner, he might not need too many other men in order to snatch a few drunken gamblers. I think he’s already got Jean Claude.”

  “And you’re sure he’s not passed out somewhere or sharing someone else’s bed?”

  Mia took hold of the railing and leaned forward so she could take a deep breath. “I searched this boat from top to bottom last night,” she said. “I went everywhere Jean Claude would be able to go and asked anyone who might know where he was. I didn’t find any trace of him and the people who know him were all just as worried as me.”

  Looking over to Clint, she asked, “Did you find that fellow with the knife? You remember . . . the one who talked funny.”

  Clint froze as he remembered the last time he’d talked to her regarding that matter. “No, I didn’t find him,” he said.

  “Actually, he had an English accent, right?”

  Clint nodded.

  “And he was also about this tall, had sunken eyes and skin paler than a pig’s belly. Am I close?”

  “Not close,” Clint said. “More like dead on the money.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  “His name is Dench. I don’t know if that’s his first, middle, last or nickname, but that’s what a few people call him. Most everyone else doesn’t even know he’s alive. He’s killed dozens of men with that knife you saw and dozens more in ways you wouldn’t even want to imagine. I’ve heard one man from Scotland Yard call him the Ripper, but that was more of a sick joke than a serious accusation.”

  Clint listened to her and felt a coldness work its way up his spine. Before he let the rest of his sandwich fall from his hands, he stuffed it into his mouth and quickly swallowed it down.

  “You look pale,” Mia said. “Is something wrong?”

  “I thought you were working some sort of angle before. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “It’s not an angle,” she told him. “I do need your help, though. I was told you’ve helped the Rangers other times and have even saved some good men’s lives.”

  “Who told you that?” Clint asked.

  “The same Rangers who arranged to get that invitation mailed to you.”

  Clint let his head fall forward and muttered, “Jesus, are you telling me this whole thing was a setup to get me to work with you? All you had to do was ask, not stage some sort of show with you getting ambushed so I’d ride to the rescue.”

  “That wasn’t a show,” Mia said. “I was hoping to meet up with you at the dock and then I could introduce myself.”

  “Yeah? What about those men who attacked you? They better not have been Rangers, because I sure as hell wasn’t firing pretend bullets at them!”

  “Those were Solomon’s men. I think they were checking up on me once they saw my name on the list to receive an invitation.”

  “Nobody came to check on me,” Clint pointed out.

  “That’s because anyone in Solomon’s line of work, or any gambler for that matter, would already know who you are.”

  Clint wasn’t about to blow his own horn, but he also couldn’t deny the point Mia had made.

  She turned so she was leaning sideways against the rail and looking Clint straight in the eyes. “If I was in your position, I would be suspicious, too. In fact, I was hoping to get you to help me without having to tell you all of this.”

  “Why do that?”

  “For the same reasons you mentioned before. Whenever anyone thinks about the Texas Rangers, they picture big men with big white hats charging out to bring in dangerous killers.” She laughed a bit and added, “Actually, that’s really not too far from the truth. It’s not easy being a woman and working with them.”

  “So how’d you ma
nage it?”

  “In some ways . . . I didn’t. A Ranger who knew I could handle myself asked me to help him trap a wanted man in Fort Griffin. Things worked out pretty good. I asked for a job and he turned me down. He said it would be too hard for me to be accepted into the Rangers and that other men would be too concerned with watching out for me to get their jobs done. That’s why he only uses me to get in close when I can and work from the inside.”

  “Kind of like a spy,” Clint pointed out.

  After thinking that over, she shrugged and smiled. “I guess you could say that. Anyway, since Solomon was already checking up on the people on that list, we didn’t want to risk coming to you and asking you directly to lend us a hand. If Solomon’s men had caught sight of that, it could have made it a whole lot harder for us to catch him.”

  “All right, then,” Clint said. “Everything you’ve been saying sounds fairly within reason. Then again, that says a lot if I consider all of this within reason.”

  Mia smirked. “I know what you mean.”

  “I’ve got two questions before I agree to help. First of all, that night we spent together on the way here . . . was that part of you trying to get close enough to me to sway me to your way of thinking?”

  “No,” Mia told him. “In fact, I could probably get into some serious trouble if certain members of the Rangers found out about that.”

  “Now for my second question. Who do you answer to in the Texas Rangers?”

  “John Shaver.”

  “I’ve met him. How’s Betty and the boys?”

  Mia grinned again and replied, “His wife’s name is Betsy, and he’s only got one boy. He’s also got one girl, and they’re all doing fine.”

  Clint extended a hand for Mia to shake. “You’ve got yourself a partner.”

  THIRTY

  Mia walked beside Clint as if they were merely out for a stroll around the boat. As they passed through a relatively empty hallway, she asked, “Tell me why we’re looking for the porter?”

  “Because he might be able to clear something up for me before I make a fool out of myself.”

  Before Mia could ask another question, Clint spotted Arvin moving from one room to another. He rushed toward the older man and got to him just before Arvin was out of sight.

  “There you are,” Clint said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Excellent,” the man replied dryly. “How can I be of service?”

  “I’d like to pay a visit to a friend of mine, but I might have forgotten which room he’s in. Could you tell me who’s in room number five?”

  Without hesitation, Arvin said, “That would be Mr. Randolph.”

  “I thought I was going to have to work a lot harder for that,” Clint said.

  “You would have if it had been any other room. That one is under guard and is quite disagreeable to the staff. A man like that likes drawing attention, so who am I to deny him? Is there anything else?”

  “Nope. That’ll do it.”

  Arvin was gone in the blink of an eye, allowing Clint and Mia to walk toward the end of the hall on their own.

  “Does that name sound familiar?” Clint asked.

  “Randolph is a name Solomon’s used before. Is room number five his?”

  “Yes, and I’m surprised you haven’t found it already on your own.”

  “That’s not the only room with armed men outside of it, you know. The last man to board was taken straight to a room of his own with plenty of firepower posted right outside of it.”

  “And here I can’t even get into the poker room wearing a gun belt,” Clint grumbled.

  Mia shrugged and said, “It pays to bribe most of the men hired to provide security around here. I wouldn’t be surprised if the captain of this boat on Solomon’s payroll as well.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be?” Clint asked. “It’s not like he’s got an actual rank or anything. All he needs to do is steer along a river and stop at a few docks along the way.”

  “Come to think of it, there doesn’t even really have to be a captain.”

  “That’s very true, so there’s no reason for us to worry about him. The first thing I’d like to worry about is finding Jean Claude. Do you really think he’s in this Solomon’s sights?”

  Mia nodded quickly. “I know he is. Vessele humiliated Dench at a poker game in Denison not too long ago. It was one of those losses that might make someone reconsider ever playing cards again. What made it worse is that Vessele bragged about it for weeks afterward.”

  “That’s pretty odd considering Dench is supposed to be such a known killer.”

  “Jean Claude usually surrounds himself with friends or relatives that all carry guns.”

  “And none of them are on this boat?” Clint asked.

  “None of them were invited.”

  Clint nodded slowly. “I’m starting to see why something like this would appeal to Solomon.”

  But Mia was walking faster and looking at Clint less and less. “Room number five isn’t far away. We need to find a way to get in there,” she said excitedly.

  “I’ve already been in there.”

  “What?” Mia asked as her head snapped around. “When? How?”

  “Last night and with this,” Clint replied as he took the key from his pocket and showed it to her.

  Mia stopped dead in her tracks and stared at the key as if she was trying to commit the curving shape to memory. Finally, she asked, “Was there anything in there worth seeing?”

  “Not particularly. Just some marked cards and a note written on his copy of the invitation that said DCRM1.”

  “Are you sure that’s what it said?”

  Clint nodded. “After all the trouble I went through to get that little bit of nothing, I think I’d be able to remember it.”

  She stayed in her spot for a few seconds and then asked, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Texas Ranger before?”

  “I’m not a Texas Ranger.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  After conceding the point with a nod, Mia said, “So we’re even. I just don’t know if it’s worth the trouble for me to get in there and have a look around.”

  “That room was barely big enough for two people,” Clint said. “I doubt he’d be in there if he’s got his own men and some prisoners with him. He’s probably somewhere else by now.”

  Suddenly, Mia turned on her heels and started heading for another door. “There’s a few places I want to check,” she said. “While I was looking around last night, I saw some suspicious men spending a lot of time in places where there shouldn’t have been much going on.”

  “A boat full of gamblers and you only found a few suspicious men?” Clint asked.

  “Suspicious, armed, and not playing cards,” she clarified.

  “That is suspicious.”

  “Since there’s two of us now, there’s no reason for us to stay together every second. One of us should check out those places I found, and the other should check on room number one.”

  “Why room number one?” Clint asked.

  “That note, DCRM1, remember? Isn’t RM short for room?”

  Realizing he’d somehow let that slip past him made Clint feel like an ass. Keeping his best poker face on, he nodded and said, “You can check that one out after you tell me where those places you found were. If those men are armed, I’d rather be the one to face them.”

  She nodded and then patted his cheek. “It’s all right, Clint. I’m sure you were just in a hurry to get your arm back around Gretchen or you wouldn’t have missed that.”

  Clint decided his poker face needed a little work.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Apart from the fact that he’d somehow overlooked something as obvious as RM1 meaning room number one, Clint had an even better reason for wanting to switch tasks with Mia. It was a good way for him to check out her information while allowing her to check on his. He didn’t really feel too
bad about telling her what he’d found on that note, since he might not have done anything with it until it was too late anyhow.

  There were three spots that had caught Mia’s attention. One was the furnace. Another was a storage room off the main kitchen. The third was a good-sized structure on the middle deck, close to the paddle wheel. Considering that the main kitchen was probably in use at the moment, Clint put that one and the furnace off for a while and headed for the room at the rear of the boat.

  Before he headed in that direction, Clint stopped in his room to change back into his suit. That way, if anyone asked any questions, he could easily play the part of a gambler who’d lost his direction. The longer coat also made it much easier for him to hide his gun from any of the armed men who were looking to disarm the passengers.

  Clint tipped his hat and put on the best smile he could manage as he passed other gamblers and a few men who actually kept the boat running. It was a beautiful day, so the Misty Morning was making good time moving along the Red River. Once the paddle wheel slowed down a bit, Clint intended on checking out the furnace. For the moment, however, the noise from the churning water was just what he needed to cover his approach to the small structure at the rear of the boat.

  It took a while for Clint to find the spot Mia had told him about. The directions had seemed simple enough when she told them to him, but Clint soon began to wonder if he was remembering them incorrectly somehow. After his second trip around the deck, all he had found was a few doors leading to the poker rooms and some wooden walls separating him from the paddle wheel.

  On the third trip, Clint spotted a small hole on one of those paddle-wheel walls. At first, he’d thought that hole was just an imperfection in the wood, but then he realized that that side of the paddle wheel was wider than the other side. Since riverboats generally weren’t built that way, Clint figured he’d found his structure.

  When he examined the wall around that hole, he eventually found the recessed hinge of a door. Placing his ear against the wall, Clint could hear something else beneath the constant sound of the turning wheel.

  “If you . . . your mouth . . . ,” a voice on the other side of the wall said, “I’ll kill . . . dump . . . overboard.”