Deadly Trail

by William W. Johnstone

  The engineer was standing beside the engine, looking at his watch.

  “Are you all ready to go, Mr. Jensen?” he asked.

  “Yes, soon as I get my horse onto the train,” Matt said, leading Spirit up the ramp and into the car. He put him into one of the stalls, and reached up to rub him behind the ears.

  “You know what this is all about, don’t you, boy?” he said. “You’ve ridden the train more than most people.”

  With Spirit secure, Matt stepped back outside as a crew took down the ramp and closed the door.

  “How long do you think it will take us to get there?” Matt asked the engineer.

  “The railroad has cleared the tracks for us between here and Denver,” the engineer replied. “And I have no speed limit. I expect we’ll be doing better than fifty miles to the hour, Mr. Jensen, which means we’ll be there in about an hour and a half.”

  “That’s fast,” Matt said.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll say it’s fast,” the engineer said, smiling broadly. “Our regular train service allows four hours between the two cities. Why, if we had wings, we’d be flying,” added. “Tim!” he called up to the engine cab.

  The fireman stuck his head through the window.

  “Is the steam pressure up?”

  “We’re ready to go, Burt,” Tim replied.

  “All right, gents, climb aboard and let’s get under way,” Burt said.

  Matt looked around at the plush car, then shook his head and clucked. “Are there really people who travel like this?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Cornett replied. “You’d be amazed at how many private cars we move every day.”

  “Probably not very many private trains, though,” Matt suggested.

  Cornett chuckled. “No, sir, not that many private trains,” he agreed.

  Even as Matt settled into one of the overstuffed chairs, the train started forward. Within minutes, the train was traveling faster than Matt ever had, and the trees and shrubbery that were adjacent to the track were whipping by so fast as to be a blur.

  The train made the passage from Colorado Springs to Denver in one hour and twenty-two minutes. When the abbreviated train pulled into the station, Matt was greeted by George Highgate, who Matt remembered was a member of the governor’s staff.

  “Mr. Jensen,” Highgate called out to him.

  Nodding his acknowledgment, Matt started toward him.

  “The governor is in the mansion and has asked me to take you to him as soon as you arrive. Have you had lunch?”

  “No, I haven’t,” Matt replied.

  Highgate nodded. “The governor anticipated that, sir. He will have lunch waiting for you.”

  “Mr. Jensen, I’ll take care of your horse,” Cornett said. “Would you like me to bring him down to the Governor’s Mansion?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Matt said. “And thanks for coming to Colorado Springs to get me.”

  “It was my honor, sir,” Cornett replied.

  Highgate led Matt out to the governor’s carriage, a yellow and black phaeton, highly polished and with pleated yellow leather seats. The vehicle was so beautifully suspended that it negotiated the cobblestone and brick-paved streets of Denver as if it were gliding on air.

  The Governor’s Mansion was a two-story, red-brick Victorian house, reached by a curved driveway that passed through a black, wrought-iron picket fence.

  Governor Routt met Matt in the foyer. “Thank you for coming, Matt,” he said. “Please, join us in the dining room so we can discuss some business.”

  “All right,” Matt answered.

  When Matt stepped into the dining room, he saw two other men.

  “Matt, this is General Palmer, President of the Denver and Rio Grande.”

  Palmer was a fastidiously dressed man, clean shaven and with dark hair. He had commanded the 15th Pennsylvania Cavalry during the Civil War, and his experiences as the commander of a daring and highly successful group of cavalrymen had provided him with the kind of background he needed to be a scout for the Kansas-Pacific Railroad in its expansion to the West. But when the Kansas-Pacific decided to use a route other than the one Palmer had recommended, he left the company and started a railroad of his own. The Denver and Rio Grande was the result.

  General Palmer, always a personable man, met Matt with an extended hand.

  “Mr. Jensen, it’s good at last to meet you, sir. I’ve heard many good things about you,” he said.

  “Often things get exaggerated in the telling, General,” Matt said.

  Palmer chuckled. “I appreciate your self-deprecating nature, young man,” he said. “But I have heard too many stories from too many sources to doubt them. I’m glad you accepted the invitation.”

  “And you have met my private secretary, Mr. Highgate.”

  “Yes, I have,” Matt said, shaking Highgate’s offered hand.

  “This is awful,” Highgate said. “Simply awful.”

  “Matt, as I said in the letter, this is all about my niece. I want you to find her, and I am prepared to offer you a position of state investigator, which will give you absolute legal authority in any county in the state. And, of course, pay a salary that is commensurate with that position.”

  “And I am prepared to offer you a position as consultant to the railroad,” General Palmer added. “With a onetime fee of fifteen hundred dollars.”

  “That’s very generous,” Matt said.

  “That is payable whether you find the young lady or not,” General Palmer said. “If you do find her, and return her safely, I will also pay a bonus of an additional fifteen hundred dollars.”

  “That is exceptionally generous,” Matt said.

  “Just tell me that you will do it,” Governor Routt said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “I cannot bear to think that I, in some way, might be responsible for this.”

  “How can you hold yourself responsible for it, Governor?”

  “I invited her out here.”

  “John, don’t be foolish,” Palmer said. “You are in no way responsible. On the contrary, you are taking every action possible to see to her safe return.”

  “Providing it is not too late for that,” Routt said. “I just pray that she is still alive.”

  “Governor, I believe I read in your letter that you had received a ransom demand?” Matt said.

  “Yes, for ten thousand dollars,” the governor replied.

  “Then I’m sure she is still alive,” Matt said. “They need her in order to extract that money from you.”

  “Believe me, I would pay it in a minute if I could be sure it would guarantee her safe return. But I just don’t know how well I can trust these people.”

  “I have suggested that the governor pay it,” Highgate said.

  “You have? Why?”

  “Why? Isn’t it obvious, man? Paying the ransom will assure her safe return.”

  “I don’t know,” Matt said. “I think the governor’s instinct is correct. Anyone who would do something like this is probably not very trustworthy. It’s not good to sit back and wait for things happen; it’s better to make them happen.”

  “I suppose there is some merit to what you are saying,” Highgate said. “But they were very specific when they spoke to me. They told me that if the governor paid the ransom, they would release Miss McKenzie unharmed. But if we tried anything, such as calling in the law or trying to bring about a rescue, they would kill her.”

  Matt looked at Highgate with some surprise. “When they spoke to you?”

  “Yes,” Governor Routt said. “That is how I learned of the ransom demand. They approached Mr. Highgate.”

  “Why would they approach you?” Matt asked.

  “I suppose because I am the governor’s private secretary,” Highgate replied. “They knew that I had the ear of the governor.”

  Matt nodded. “That’s true, I suppose,” he said. He chuckled. “I must say that what surprises me is to think of someone like that even knowing t
here was such a position as secretary to the governor, let alone who it would be.”

  “Yes, sir, I must admit I was surprised as well,” Highgate said. “And somewhat frightened.”

  “Why were you frightened? Did they threaten you?”

  “No, not what you might all a direct threat,” Highgate said. “But they were—rather desperate-looking men—certainly not the kind of people I would normally encounter.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The outlaws’ cabin

  “Beans again,” Decker growled as he stared down into the pot. “Damn, I’m sick of beans.”

  “They wouldn’t be bad if we had some bacon to go with ’em,” Teech said.

  “Yeah, well, we ain’t got no bacon,” Decker said. “We ain’t go no onion, nor peppers, nor nothin’.”

  “Eat your beans or don’t eat ’em, I don’t give a damn,” Strayhorn said. “Just quit your bitchin’.”

  Teech laughed.

  “What are you laughin’ at?” Decker asked.

  “How many cows have we done stole in our lifetime?” he asked. “I know damn well we’ve rustled enough beef to start a full-sized stampede, but we ain’t got so much as a mouthful of meat to lay alongside our beans.”

  “And you think that’s funny?” Decker asked.

  “Yeah, I do. Look, if you want meat, you can always go back to punchin’ cows for thirty a month and found. We purt’ near always had meat then. But we didn’t ever have no chance of gettin’ ahold of some real money, though, did we?”

  “Maybe you ain’t noticed it, Teech, but we ain’t exactly been gettin’ a lot of money lately neither, have we?” Decker replied. “In fact, it’s been quite a while since we’ve so much as put one dollar in our pocket.”

  “Yeah, you do have a point there,” Teech said. He turned to Strayhorn, who had been eating his own beans in silence. “What about it, Strayhorn? Accordin’ to No Nose, all we had to do was take this here girl off the train and money would be fallin’ in our laps.” Teech pointed to Layne, who was sitting on the bed with her wrists and ankles bound. “Well, we took her, and we ain’t got no money yet.”

  “No Nose has gone into town now to make all the arrangements,” Strayhorn said. “I expect when he comes back, he’ll have the money.”

  “Then what?” Decker asked.

  “What do you mean, then what? We’ll have the money,” Strayhorn said.

  “No, I mean, then what about the woman? What are we going to do with her?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Strayhorn said.

  Layne gasped. “You said you would let me go,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Strayhorn said. “And we will, if there is no trouble.”

  “What do you mean, no trouble?”

  “Well now, missy, just think about it for a minute,” Strayhorn said. “It ain’t very likely they’re goin’ to just hand over the money like they was buyin’ a horse or somethin’. More’n likely, they’re goin’ to be thinkin’ about tryin’ something so’s they can get you back and keep their money too. So, until we’ve got the money, and we know they ain’t tryin’ to pull no fast one on us, I reckon the best thing to do would be just to keep you for a while.”

  “Someone’s comin’,” Teech said, and he, Strayhorn, and Decker took out their pistols, then moved to the windows to look outside.

  “It’s No Nose,” Strayhorn said.

  “I hope he’s got the money,” Decker said.

  “He ain’t likely to have it with him,” Strayhorn said. “But maybe he’s got it worked out how we can get it.”

  No Nose dismounted, then came into the cabin.

  “Did you get the money?” Decker asked right away.

  No Nose glared at him.

  “Well, did you?”

  “Any food left?” No Nose said.

  “Some beans,” Strayhorn said.

  No Nose picked up a plate from the table. It had been Strayhorn’s plate, and though he had eaten all the beans, the plate itself was still dirty. No Nose paid no attention to the fact that the plate was dirty. Instead, he walked over to the little potbellied stove and began spooning out beans.

  “You ain’t answered,” Decker said. “Did you get the money or what?”

  “No, I didn’t get no money,” No Nose replied.

  “What happened?”

  “The governor’s called in Matt Jensen.”

  “Matt Jensen?” Teech said.

  “Yeah, he’s made him a state policeman,” No Nose said.

  Strayhorn shook his head. “What is a state policeman? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “It’s like a sheriff, only he ain’t restricted to just one county. That means he can go anywhere in the state he wants.”

  “That’s bad,” Strayhorn said.

  “Yeah? How bad can it be?” No Nose asked. “He’s only one man.”

  “How bad? We’ve already lost five good men to that son of a bitch,” Decker said. “Is that bad enough for you?”

  “Seven if you count Boone and Clay,” Teech said. Then he laughed. “Only Boone and Clay weren’t no-count anyhow, and neither was Hennessey or Taylor if you want my way of thinkin’ about it, which means we only lost three that was worth anything.”

  “It don’t seem right that one ordinary man could do that,” No Nose said.

  “Well, Matt Jensen ain’t exactly what would you call an ordinary man,” Teech said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s more like a ghost than a regular man. I mean, no matter where we go, seems like he’s there comin’ in as silent as smoke, raisin’ hell, then goin’ away without so much as a scratch for all the shootin’.”

  “I guess he’s been pretty lucky all right,” No Nose said.

  “Lucky, hell. Luck ain’t got nothin’ to do with it,” Teech said. “I’m here to tell you, Matt Jensen ain’t no ordinary man.”

  “You’ve run into him, Strayhorn. Teech says he’s no ordinary man. What do you think?” No Nose asked.

  Strayhorn spooned some beans onto his folded tortilla, then took a bite and chewed thoughtfully before he answered. “What do I think? I think we need to kill the sonofabitch. That’s what I think.”

  “Easy enough to say—not so easy to do. From the way you been talkin’, don’t sound to me like Matt Jensen will be the kind of man that dies easy,” No Nose said.

  “Bullshit. Put a bullet in his hide and he’ll die just like ever’one else,” Strayhorn growled.

  “Then how come we ain’t been able to kill him?” Teech asked.

  “’Cause there ain’t nobody gone about it right,” Strayhorn said. “First you had Clay, but that don’t count for much because he was a blowhard who thought he was better than he was. Then there was Hennessey and Taylor, and they were damn fools. If you do it right, Jensen can be killed just like any other man.”

  “What are you tellin’ us, Strayhorn?” Decker asked. “Are you sayin’ that you’d be willin’ to go up against him?”

  “Hell, no,” Strayhorn answered. “I ain’t willin’ to go up against him. And far as I’m concerned, anyone who would go against him is a fool.”

  “I thought you said he needed killin’.”

  “He does need killin’,” Strayhorn said. He smiled. “But what does goin’ up against him have to do with it? Look here, we don’t need to make no sportin’ contest out of this. We ain’t like Clay, tryin’ to be known as the ‘fastest gun.’ All we want is for the son of a bitch to be dead, and we don’t care how he is killed, or who kills him.”

  “All right, so, how are we goin’ to do it?” Teech asked. “Sneak up on him and shoot him in the back? I’m not sure you can even sneak up on someone like Matt Jensen. That son of a bitch has eyes in the back of his head.”

  “Yeah, how are we goin’ to get close enough to him to kill him?” No Nose asked.

  “We ain’t,” Strayhorn said.

  No Nose looked confused. “What do you mean? I thought yo
u said he needed killin’.”

  “He does need killin’,” Strayhorn said. “Only, we ain’t goin’ to do it. We’re goin’ to hire it done. That’s where you come in.”

  “Me?” No Nose said, sputtering. “Wait a minute! What do you mean me?”

  “We’re all in this together, ain’t we?” Strayhorn asked. “I mean, if Jensen is really comin’ after us, he’s comin’ after ever’one of us, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” No Nose replied. “But that still don’t tell me why I’m the one that has to do it. And all alone.”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t mean you have to kill him. But you are goin’ to have to fix it so we can kill him.”

  “How’m I supposed to do that?”

  “First thing is, you’ve got to go back and see the man who helped us set up this kidnapping in the first place.”

  “Won’t do no good to see him. He ain’t got money.”

  “Didn’t you say he works for the governor?”

  “Yeah, he said he does. I don’t know if he actually does or not, though.” No Nose chuckled. “You ought to see him. He’s a real funny-lookin’ fella. Kind’a tall, bald-headed, wears one of the pointy beards and those funny little glasses that just perch on your nose.” No Nose laughed. “Ain’t the kind I could wear, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh, my God,” Layne said. “You’re talking about Mr. Highgate.”

  “Who?” Strayhorn asked.

  “Mr. Highgate. He’s the governor’s private secretary. But, no, I can’t believe he would be a party to something like this.”

  “Highgate, huh?” No Nose said. “That’s good to know.”

  “If this fella Highgate is the governor’s private secretary, he ought to be able to get the money without any trouble,” Strayhorn said.

  No Nose shook his head. “He ain’t got five hundred dollars. He told me he wouldn’t be doin’ this if he didn’t need the money so bad.” No Nose looked over at Layne. “That’s why he also wants to make sure the girl don’t get hurt.”

  “Yeah, we know how much he cares about the girl,” Strayhorn said derisively. “I tell you what. Don’t worry none about him not havin’ the money. In for a penny, in for a pound. He’ll find some way to come up with it.”