Wanted: Sam Bass

by Paul Colt

  “She says Sam Bass is headed for Texas.”

  “How might she have come to know that?”

  “Bass was a guest in her hotel. He disappeared after the shoot-out two nights ago.”

  “Anything else?”

  He shook his head.

  “Texas is a big place.”

  “I mentioned that. She said Texas was the best she could do.” At least as far as Sam Bass was concerned.

  “Then I suppose that will have to do.”

  Oh, it did do. “Maybe not.”

  “There’s more? You said Texas was all she had.”

  “Briscoe Cane may have more.”

  “Cane again. What’s he done this time?”

  “I’m not sure. He may have more information. We discussed a trade.”

  “A trade?”

  “Yes compare notes. We tell him what we know. He tells us what he knows.”

  The Englishman stirred his creamed tea in thought. “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts is it? Can we trust him?”

  “I’d say so, at least so far as the trade is concerned. After that it’s every man for himself.”

  “When might we have this exchange?”

  “I asked him to come by this morning to meet you.” He lifted his chin toward Kingsley’s teacup. “Now is there any chance I might find a cup of coffee around here?”

  Kingsley tapped his cane on the floor and tipped the silver knob toward the stove.

  “You’ll find a pot and cups there. Can’t imagine how you colonials abide the wretched stuff.”

  Cane had a hot breakfast and a leisurely stroll down to the depot. An early taste of autumn chill freshened the morning breeze on a bright sunny day. He found Longstreet and the Englishman sitting around the Pinkerton desk in the passenger lounge. Both rose to greet him.

  “Good morning, Briscoe,” Longstreet said.

  “Beau.” He eyed the Englishman.

  “May I present Reginald Kingsley.”

  “Mr. Kingsley, Briscoe Cane.”

  “My pleasure, Mr. Cane. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

  “Most of it legal I hope.”

  The Englishman chuckled. “No outstanding warrants or dodgers so far as I can determine at this hour.”

  “We can thank the good Lord for that.”

  “Have a seat.” He indicated a chair beside the desk.

  “Beau here tells me we may have a mutually beneficial exchange of information in regard to the Big Springs train robbery.”

  “We discussed the possibility.”

  “As you know Pinkerton has been retained to recover the lost gold shipment and bring to justice those responsible for the loss.”

  “As I recall Union Pacific retained Pinkerton to prevent the loss in the first place.”

  “Yes well, to put a fine point on it that may be true, but not germane to the present discussion. What is your interest in the case?”

  “I’m a bounty hunter. I work for the Great Western Detective League. They’ve been ‘retained,’ to use your term, by Wells Fargo to recover the proceeds of a Cheyenne & Deadwood stage robbery. The men responsible for that robbery were also involved in the Big Springs robbery. I got one of them two nights ago along with one of the train robbers.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that. You’re to be congratulated.”

  “Thank you. The other man I’m after is Sam Bass. He’s the brains behind both robberies. That explains why we’re here. The question is what happened to Bass?”

  “We believe he was here.”

  “I know he was here. I’m prepared to put what I know on the table. Are you prepared to do the same?”

  Kingsley looked at Beau and nodded. “How do you know he was here?”

  “Bass rides a blue roan. He stabled it over at the livery until two nights ago.”

  “The night of the shoot-out, that squares with what we know. He checked out of the hotel two nights ago. Do you have anything further?”

  Cane nodded. “Do you?”

  Kingsley nodded.

  “Bass took the 10:10 eastbound the night he left town.”

  “That makes sense. He had to get far away fast.”

  “It still doesn’t tell us where he’s headed. What else have you got?”

  Kingsley glanced at Longstreet. “He’s headed south.”

  Longstreet blinked.

  “How do you know?” Cane said.

  “Beau heard it from a woman who had knowledge of his intentions.”

  Cane could guess who that might be. “So that’s it. He’s headed south. That covers a lot of territory.”

  “It does.”

  Longstreet looked at his boots.

  Cane cut his eyes from Beau to the Englishman. “Well south is better than he could be anywhere.” He pushed back his chair and rose. “Gentlemen, good luck.” He turned on his heel and left.

  Longstreet fixed Kingsley’s gaze. “You didn’t tell him. Why?”

  “You said it yourself, old boy, it’s every man for himself.”

  The boardwalk ran out at Central Avenue. Cane sauntered up the street following the directions he’d been given by the hotel clerk. He found the Alhambra Saloon a block north of Buffalo Station’s main street and two blocks east of the depot, not exactly the commercial center of town. The Alhambra didn’t live up to its highbrow handle even in the gloom of early evening. It was a run-down, backstreet hole in the wall. It didn’t look like Longstreet’s style, which had him wondering why the Pinkerton man had left a note at the hotel to meet him here. He paused at the bat wings to check his guns and blades. Places like this could be full of surprises. He eyed the matched doors. The one on the left looked like it might come off its hinges. He eased through the right side. The place smelled of stale tobacco smoke, beer and a clientele that wasn’t partial to washing in any of its accepted forms. The place got a low light glow from a scattering of kerosene lamps that added inky soot stains to the dilapidated atmosphere.

  He glanced around the bar. Longstreet sat at a back corner table. A couple of rough types sat at another table. Another stood at the bar, talking quietly with the bartender. The bartender lifted a suspicious brow at Cane. Longstreet had a bottle and glasses. He headed for the table and a chair that put his back to the wall.

  “Nice place. You ever consider meetin’ in a privy?”

  “It serves a purpose. Have a drink. It’ll take the edge off.”

  “Lye soap and a coat of paint wouldn’t take the edge off this place.”

  “Try the whiskey. It’s quicker.”

  Cane poured a drink, tossed it off and refilled his glass. “So what’s the useful purpose for meeting in this dump?”

  “There’s no chance Kingsley or anybody else from Pinkerton is gonna see us.”

  “Interesting. What’s so secretive?”

  “Kingsley didn’t play straight with you.”

  “No? Can’t say I’m surprised. How so?”

  “Bass is headed south all right, south to Texas.”

  “That narrows the search some. Still Texas is a big place.”

  “That’s what I said, but at least we’ve got a fair trade now.”

  “Why tell me? You work for Pinkerton. If Pinkerton gets him you come out ahead.”

  “Some see it that way. We made a deal. I don’t hold with cheating.”

  Cane lifted his glass. “You’re a stand-up guy, Beau Longstreet. I spotted that when you stepped in front of Braylin Cross.”

  “Thanks.”

  “If you feel that way, tell me why you work for these guys.”

  “They offered me a job when I needed one. They’ve been fair with me. Work is steady. The paychecks are regular.”

  “You could do better.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You could make more money workin’ for yourself, like me.”

  “Like you? I thought you worked for that detective league.”

  “I take assignments from them, but I work for mysel
f. If you get Bass, what do you get from Pinkerton?”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “Let me guess. If you get Bass, you’ll get your pay, a pat on the back maybe and a new assignment.”

  “So?”

  “Pinkerton gets the reward.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “If I get Bass, I get fifteen hundred dollars of the reward money. I’ll collect sixty percent of the reward for Collins and Heffridge. The league gets seven hundred. That’s the difference.”

  “That is better than a pat on the back. You think this detective league of yours would take me on?”

  “They might. I’d put in a word for you with Colonel Crook. Think about it. If you want to take a kick at the can, you can reach me through the Great Western Detective League Denver Office.”

  “You headin’ off to Texas or back to Denver?”

  “That’s up to Colonel Crook. If it was up to me, I’d be goin’ to Texas. Like you said Texas is a big place. Chances of me findin’ him would be slim. The way the league works Crook will put out a notice to his operatives to be on the lookout for Bass. Sooner or later, he’ll turn up. When he does, we move in. Until then, I guess I’ll be headed back to Denver.”

  “So this league of yours is like Pinkerton except the operatives take the biggest share of their work.”

  “That’s about it. I’m pretty new at it. Bass and Collins were my first case, but from what I can see now this makes more sense than hunting bounty on my own.”

  “I’ll think about it.” “Good. Now tell me about Mrs. Stone.” He met Cane with a blank expression. “A man who don’t cheat, don’t kiss and tell either. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a promise to keep.”

  Cane laughed and threw back his drink. “Nothin’ I admire more than a man of his word.”

  Buffalo Station

  “Top of the morning, old boy.” Kingsley beamed touching the knob of his cane to the brim of his bowler.

  “You seem quite pleased with yourself this morning,” Longstreet said.

  “Yes, I suppose I am. It seems we made a jolly good trade with your friend Mr. Cane. He said he received a telegram from his superiors this morning, recalling him to Denver. He’s purchased a one-way ticket to Cheyenne. ‘South’ isn’t much of a trail is it?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “I shall be leaving myself within the hour for Denver. No sense waiting here until we have something further to go on. I want you to arrange travel to Dallas. It is the most logical of a handful of likely destinations Bass might have. We know he has a fondness for gambling. I should think a surveillance of gaming establishments might prove fruitful. Notify me at once should you have any report of him.”

  Dallas. He could make Abilene by rail, then what? He had a nasty feeling he’d see more stage than rail on the way to Texas. Thinking of Abilene reminded him he’d be saying good-bye to Abby Stone.

  Supper at Delmonico’s was always pleasant. Abby turned herself out to fine effect in a dark-green dress that set off her hair and eyes against the flawless promise of a porcelain complexion. That would come later. She eyed him thoughtfully across the candlelit table.

  “You’re leaving aren’t you?”

  The question caught him off guard. He nodded. “Kingsley’s sending me to Dallas. How did you know?”

  She smiled a farseeing smile. “Woman’s intuition.”

  “Sorry. I meant to tell you.”

  “Don’t be. We both knew it would happen sooner or later. It’s been great fun. And it’s not over yet. As they say, the night is still young.”

  “The night is young.”

  She laughed a knowing laugh. “Now eat your steak. A man has to keep up… his strength.”

  Shady Grove

  The colonel paused as though he might be collecting his thoughts. His head nodded. He snapped awake. I sensed our session coming to an end.

  “So why didn’t you send Cane to Texas?”

  He shook his head. “Sending him to Texas didn’t make sense. It would have had him lookin’ for a needle in that haystack. We had people in Texas. Sooner or later a man like Bass was bound to turn up. I telegraphed a dodger to our operatives. Information comes to a patient man who keeps his eyes open and an ear to the ground. I’ve found that to be a sound investigative principle. One you’d do well to remember, Robert.”

  “Did you recruit Longstreet?”

  “Thoughtful fellow that one. We didn’t get him right off.”

  Footfalls sounded on the polished floor. I knew that sound.

  “Time for supper, Colonel.”

  I stood. Penny’s eyes twinkled in greeting.

  “You two have big plans for this evening?”

  She wagged a finger at him in mock admonition. “You wouldn’t be prying would you, Colonel?”

  “Me? Heavens no, wouldn’t think of it.” He smiled and patted the bottle under his lap robe with a conspiratorial wink. “See you next week, Robert.”

  She wheeled him down the hall with that lovely sway I never grew tired of watching.

  SIXTEEN

  Shady Grove

  The following week the colonel was waiting for me in the solarium, as I found the sunny spacious visitor’s parlor was more properly known. He glanced around as I took my seat, telegraphing the passing of the empty bottle in exchange for my expected delivery.

  “I see we have our priorities in order.”

  He scowled. “Indulge me, Robert. I don’t have the range of amusements available to me as those you avail yourself of.”

  “Me?”

  “She’s been insufferable all week. Did you have a spat?”

  “Heavens no.”

  “You mean no or not that you know of. There’s a difference you know. The ones you don’t know about are the worst kind.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that you might bring out the insufferable in her?”

  “Me? Of course not, I’m the soul of pleasantry and discretion. No I’m afraid it cannot be explained that easily. Truthfully where women are concerned, for the most part, nothing can be explained easily. Well forewarned is forearmed. I suggest you bring flowers.”

  I must admit the old buzzard had me flustered. What had I done? Nothing. Could that be it? Could nothing be wrong?

  He tapped a foot impatiently. “Are we going to get on with the story or not?”

  “Yes, I suppose we should.” What could it possibly be?

  “Where were we then?”

  I consulted my notes. “You’d sent notices—dodgers, you called them—to your members in Texas and recalled Cane to Denver.”

  “Ah yes, that’s when His Lordship let himself out with Cane.”

  “His Lordship?”

  “Kingsley, I sometimes referred to the arrogant bastard as His Lordship.”

  “You knew him then.”

  “Casually in those days, we got better acquainted as time went on. He didn’t improve with age.”

  “Is that because he cheated Cane in the exchange of information?”

  “That and more as we came to know of him. He had more chicanery up his sleeve than a minstrel show with disguises and sobriquets to go with all of it.”

  Buffalo Station

  Cane boarded the westbound train for Cheyenne. He found a quiet window seat in the last row of the second last car and settled in. He figured to sleep most of the way to Cheyenne and be rested for the ride down to Denver. He tipped his hat over his eyes and leaned against the thinly padded seat.

  “I say Cane old boy, is that you?”

  The English accent was unmistakable. He glanced out from under his hat brim.

  “Mind if I have a seat?”

  He took it without waiting for a reply.

  “On our way to Cheyenne or Denver are we?”

  So much for sleep. “Denver.”

  The train lurched forward, beginning a slow roll west.

  “I should have thought you might toddle off in search of some sign of Bass’s
trail.”

  “South is a big place.”

  “Quite so, though I should think a chap like Bass will show himself before long. Pinkerton will cast our net accordingly.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  “And the Great Western Detective League?”

  “South is a big place.”

  The train picked up speed. The rhythmic rattle of the rails tugged at Cane’s eyelids.

  “So you said. Longstreet tells me you were quite helpful in that dustup with Braylin Cross.”

  Cane lifted his hat brim. “Longstreet handled Cross. All I did was cover his back.”

  “Yes, well, no small detail with the likes of a chap like Cross.”

  “Longstreet can take care of himself.”

  “Point taken. Still we are indebted to you for your assistance. Hopefully we shall find opportunities to assist one another as cases like the Big Springs robbery unfold.”

  Cane arched a brow. “Like the exchange of meaningful information.”

  “Something like that. This Great Western Detective League of yours, I’m not familiar with it. It must be useful or a man of your abilities wouldn’t subscribe to it.”

  “It seems useful. You might say I’m giving it a try.”

  “There’s a chap in Denver has something to do with it, Crook I believe. Do you know him?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’ve met on one or two occasions. Bit of a mystery man to me. What’s his part in it?”

  “He runs the league.”

  “May I ask how large the organization is?”

  “You can ask. I don’t know.”

  “Curious, you are trying an association with an organization you seem to know very little about.”

  “I know all I need to.”

  “And that is?”

  Cane let a little irritation slip out from under his mask. “The colonel has good information and he pays well.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Perhaps we shall talk again when you know a bit more.”

  “I’ll look forward to that. Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Kingsley, I’d like to get some sleep.” He tipped his hat over his eyes.

  Denver

  Cane rode into town, took a room at the Brown Palace and made his way to Crook’s Great Western Detective League office. A rather small, unassuming storefront, it might have served the needs of a small law practice which in a sense was the purpose it served. Cane noted the Western Union telegraph office next door which likely accounted for the location. He found Crook seated at his desk.