Murder at Thumb Butte (A Steve Dancy Tale)

by James D. Best

  “Not really. You mentioned politics and said you were building a curriculum vitae while you waited for your twenty-fifth birthday, which is the constitutional age requirement for the House of Representatives.”

  “That I did. I must learn to be more careful around strangers.”

  “Is your future candidacy a secret?”

  “No, not at all, but my father tells me to keep things to myself.” He laughed. “He says I talk too much.”

  “From what I’ve seen, not a handicap in Congress.”

  “You’ve been to Washington?”

  “I was just making conversation.” Actually, I had been to Washington many times, but I thought Winslow’s father had given him good advice. I turned slightly toward Blanchet and asked, “Did you work with Campbell?”

  Blanchet stiffened. “Why do you ask?”

  “I understand Campbell fraudulently sold stock in a worthless company.”

  Now Winslow and Locklear stiffened as well.

  “And you thought I was involved?”

  What open wound had I stuck a stick in? Blanchet sounded as indignant as a woman whose profession had been misidentified. I found it informative that he hadn’t denied working for Campbell, and Locklear and Winslow’s reaction gave me information as well.

  “Excuse me, I didn’t mean to give that impression.” I tried to look embarrassed. “I just didn’t want to recommend you to my friend if you had represented the man he supposedly killed. I framed the question clumsily. Please forgive me.”

  “I still don’t understand. What would I have to do with stock sales?”

  “I thought he might have duped you into believing they were shares in Edison’s new company and unwittingly enlisted you into his scheme. I understand he has used reputable lawyers in the past to further his frauds.”

  “Where would you hear this?”

  “Pinkerton National Detective Agency. I spent my morning trading telegraphs with them. They should have an agent here shortly to assist with the case.”

  Blanchet vehemently shook his head. “You’re going about this the wrong way. Once I represent Mr. Sharp, I’ll engage anyone necessary.” He regained his composure and patted me on the shoulder. “You must leave this to professionals. It’s easier than you think to prejudice a case.”

  I acted chagrined. “I suppose, but I had to do something. My friend had been arrested for a hanging crime.”

  “Understood. As soon as I finish my meal, I’ll concentrate my considerable talents on helping your friend. Don’t worry … and cancel that Pinkerton. I already have resources right here in town.”

  Castle had said he knew there were two other victims, but he never said they were his clients. I examined the other men at the table. I was almost certain they had hired Blanchet to recover money paid for shares in a shell business. My guess was that I had interrupted a meeting on the topic. With Campbell’s death, Blanchet had probably told them that any further legal effort was futile, and invited me to sit at their table to change the subject. Ever since Doc Holliday had described Blanchet as a shyster, I suspected that he and Campbell might have gotten together as naturally as a flea finds a dog. I was trying to confirm my suspicion with my question about his working with Campbell. I thought it also might sow a few doubts in Locklear’s mind. It had worked. Both Locklear and Winslow were looking at Blanchet with curiosity.

  “Can you recover anything from Campbell’s estate?” I directed my question to Blanchet.

  “What estate? He had nothing,” he answered before thinking.

  Now I was sure these two had been swindled and engaged Blanchet. I decided I had pushed things as far as I wanted at this first meeting. To veer away from my previous questioning, I innocently asked, “Mr. Winslow, is there something I can send to the governor to make amends? Perhaps a gold pen or a cigar case?”

  Chapter 16

  After we finished our meal, Blanchet wanted to walk me over to the courthouse, but I told him I needed to send a telegram first. Actually, I wanted to see if Captain McAllen had responded to my earlier telegram. He hadn’t, so I hurried over to the courthouse and descended into the basement. Blanchet was waiting with a different jailer, who told us the rules allowed only one visitor at a time, which was convenient for me because I could warn Sharp to act dumb about Mac Castle. I told Blanchet I should go first to convey the governor’s recommendation, and he readily accepted my reasoning.

  As I walked down the hall of cells, I noticed they were now empty. Evidently, all the men I had seen earlier had been arrested for drunkenness and released in the morning with a fine.

  “Hello, Jeff.”

  Sharp looked more like himself. Probably two meals and rest had helped him overcome his hangover. Maybe the hot coffee he held in his hand helped as well.

  He gave me a friendly nod. “Steve.”

  “I see you got your coffee.”

  “Yep, but my dear jailer reminded me that two dollars does not last beyond sunrise.”

  “I’ll take care of it. What’d you think of Mac Castle?”

  “I liked the man just fine. He’s got a good handle on the case, an’ he knows all about Campbell swindlin’ his way around town. But his insinuations didn’t sit well.” Sharp came over to the bars. “Steve, he suspects ya might’ve killed Campbell.”

  “I know. He came at me straightaway.”

  “Before or after ya wrote that note?”

  “Before. Jeff, you want a lawyer who thinks through all the possibilities, no matter where they lead. Fact is, his suspicions of me and willingness to bring them out in the open convinced me that he was the right person to save your weathered old neck. Did you hire him?”

  “Yep. Sorta. Listen, everythin’ except me an’ my rifle is back in that room. Can ya collect my gear an’ stow it someplace? There’s a wallet in my saddlebags. Pay Castle two hundred bucks an’ take care of these jailers for a week.”

  “Room key?”

  “Jailer’s got it. When they rousted me, Earp locked the room, so everythin’ should be like I left it. When ya see Castle, give him my wallet for safekeepin’.”

  “Don’t trust me, huh?”

  Sharp laughed. “Not on a good day, an’ this ain’t one of those. No, he’s gonna have expenses, an’ ya got yer own dough. I don’t want him holdin’ back on anything that might help. ’Sides, I think he’s a trustworthy sort.” After a sip of coffee, he added. “Castle’s cautious. After I vouched for ya, he promised to keep ya abreast of everythin’ … but I suspect he might hold back.”

  “We’ll learn to trust each other. It’ll just take time. He wasn’t comfortable with McAllen either, but I assured him that McAllen would share all he learned with him.”

  “Ya know that’s a lie. McAllen probably won’t tell me everything. Man’s tight-lipped as hell. But I think Castle’s okay with him, leastwise fer the moment. Told him we was longtime friends.”

  “It’ll be fine—McAllen knows how to handle a lawyer. Speaking of that, there’s another lawyer at the end of the hall who wants to defend you. Governor Frémont recommended him, so I can’t ignore him. Doc Holliday says he’s a shyster. By the way, Holliday’s the one who directed me to Castle. I didn’t tell this lawyer you already had an attorney.”

  Sharp craned his neck to see if he could spot the man through the bars. “Ya might as well tell him now.”

  I hesitated. “Maybe you should hear him out. I think he was representing two people who might have been defrauded by Campbell. If you string him along, maybe you can learn something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like if he was in cahoots with Campbell.”

  “Ya think Campbell had a partner?” His tone was skeptical.

  “I’m not sure. He might have fingered the marks or sewed up the legal transfer. Who knows? The man’s name is George Blanchet. Doc said he specialized in representing claim jumpers and fraudsters.” I shrugged. “Birds of a feather—”

  “Flock together. I take yer p
oint.” Sharp shook his head. “Don’t make sense, though. A good-for-nothing lawyer might befriend crooks, figurin’ they’d end up in court sooner or later, but I don’t think an officer of the court would actually partner up with a fraudster. Lawyers are afraid of bein’ disbarred.”

  “Well, if you have better things to do.”

  Sharp laughed. “Ya got me there. I’ll talk to him, but ya better alert Castle. Don’t want to look like I’m playin’ both sides against the middle.”

  “Wouldn’t want that. They might throw you in jail.”

  Sharp smiled weakly this time. “How do ya suppose I ought to go ’bout gettin’ somethin’ outta our friend?”

  “Keep asking questions about Campbell. He’ll never tell you direct, but you might get a notion about their relationship.”

  Sharp rubbed his neck. “I’ll start by tellin’ him I want an attorney who knew what kind of man Campbell was. Might be able to discover somethin’ from inside this cage, but I’d feel more comfortable if McAllen was workin’ outside.”

  “I sent him a telegraph first thing, but when I checked a short while ago, he hadn’t responded.”

  “Damn.”

  “It’s only been a few hours.”

  “I’m just worried he’s off trackin’ outlaws in some wilderness.”

  I had already thought about that. “If I don’t hear back by the end of the day, I’ll send a general query to the Denver office. I’ll get you someone.”

  “I want—”

  “I know. I want McAllen too.”

  We looked at each other, and I saw fear in his eyes. I suspected I had the same fear in my eyes. I blinked it away.

  “Why don’t I send Blanchet down? Keep you busy. Tell him you already talked to Castle, but you want the best attorney possible. At the end, tell him you need time to decide which one to hire. If he gets pushy, snarl. I’ve seen you back off stronger men than him with nothing more than your mean temperament.”

  Sharp nodded assent, but he was not amused, nor had the hint of fear been cleansed from his eyes.

  Chapter 17

  After I climbed the stairs from the basement jail, I knocked, and an armed deputy on the other side opened the locked door into the courthouse proper. As I stepped into the entrance hall, a rushing Jonathon Winslow almost knocked me down.

  “Excuse me,” he said, without looking to see whom he had bumped.

  “Mr. Winslow?”

  “I don’t have time right now.” He kept walking away. “I’m late for a meeting.”

  “Could we set an appointment?” I yelled after him.

  He finally stopped to look at me. “No. The governor doesn’t want to see you again.”

  “Not the governor. You. Can I buy you breakfast tomorrow, perhaps?”

  His expression turned sour. “Mr. Dancy, are you addled? The governor doesn’t want to see you, which means I don’t want to see you. You really are impertinent to keep pushing yourself on people who are busy with important matters. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get to my meeting.”

  He disappeared down a corridor before I had an opportunity to excuse him. Was it possible that Winslow could make me dislike him more? I chuckled as I realized that wouldn’t even be a challenge for him. I looked out of place in trail clothes with these self-important men running around in tailored suits, but in my experience, clothing was far less important in the West. Rich ranchers and miners frequently dressed in the same garb as their hands. It was their cleanliness that differentiated them. I was scrubbed, so I saw no reason for Winslow to treat me like some lower social order.

  When I turned to leave, I saw a young girl playing jackstones on a small table along the lobby wall. I would have hurried by, except that she was exceptionally skillful. She’d bounce the small ball and pick up a jackstone before the ball hit the table, then do it again, picking up two jackstones, all the way to five, and then start all over without the slightest hesitation. Her rhythm was as smooth and unfaltering as a shuttle flying back and forth in a power loom.

  I watched because I was fascinated with her skill, but I kept quiet so I wouldn’t disturb her concentration.

  Without missing a beat, she said over her shoulder, “Mister, my pa doesn’t like strange men ogling me.”

  As I turned to leave, I heard her mutter, “How many men do I have to send on their way? Golly.”

  The voice was familiar. “Maggie?”

  She missed. Jackstones flew everywhere, and the ball bounced across the floor. Throwing me a haughty look, she exclaimed, “Look what you made me do! How dare you say such a thing to me?” She threw her arm in the direction of the door. “Leave, or my pa will be upset.”

  “I apologize. I mistook you for someone else.” I kneeled to pick up a jackstone, and she knelt beside me.

  “Go now, or you’ll ruin everything.” She had whispered, but it had been an order.

  I stood and walked briskly out the door. I had found that it was best not to disobey a McAllen.

  Maggie was the fourteen-year-old daughter of Joseph McAllen. Her mother had long ago divorced him and married a preacher. The new family had moved to Durango, Colorado, but McAllen and his daughter still saw each other on occasion. The previous fall, Sharp and I had rescued Maggie from a bad situation. At first, everyone believed Utes had abducted her, but we eventually discovered that it was an old enemy of the captain’s who wanted to exact revenge by forcing him to help rob a silver shipment.

  What was she doing here? There was a familiarity in her whispered order, so she had recognized me. I looked over the men on the street. McAllen had to be close by. He would never let his daughter venture into the territory without escorting her. I didn’t see him on the street, so he had to be inside. I decided to wait until the two of them came out. I realized I was on the Whiskey Row side of the town square, and any respectable family would exit on the opposite side, where Mrs. Potter had her café. I hurried around the outside of the building and arrived in time to see Maggie and two other people leaving the courthouse. Neither of the two were Captain McAllen … nor were they her family from Durango.

  I immediately turned my back and knelt to straighten my cuff. As I fidgeted, I peeked around my leg and watched them walk to Gurley Street and turn right. As soon as they disappeared around the corner, I followed, walking as normally as possible given my anxiety. When I turned the corner, they were gone, but I knew immediately where they had gone—Prescott House was only half a block away.

  I climbed the two steps into the hotel, and there they were, chatting amicably with a man I assumed was the proprietor. I ignored Maggie’s annoyed glance and waited for them to go upstairs to their room.

  As soon as they broke off their conversation, the innkeeper turned his attention to me. “Yes, sir. How can I help you?”

  I kept my eyes only on him but spoke loudly enough for Maggie to hear as she started to climb the stairs. “Do you offer afternoon tea?”

  “It’s a bit early, but yes, we do.”

  I handed the man a coin. “I’ll take a newspaper to read while I wait. When you start, would you be so kind as to bring me service for one?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  He went behind a counter, and I had an idea. “Do you have old issues?”

  “A few.”

  “Give me a current issue, and then when you’re not busy, collect all the old issues you can find. I like reading old newspapers when I come into a new town. I found it’s a fast way to get familiar with people and events.” I nodded toward the coin in his hand. “You may keep the change.”

  I saw him rub the silver dollar with his thumb. He handed me a newspaper and made a little bow, before saying, “Of course, sir. Take any seat you’d like.”

  The lobby was small and lavishly decorated. There were so many chairs and divans that the room felt crowded with no one around. The walnut chairs and sideboards kept the powder blue and red from being too obnoxious. This was definitely a woman’s room.

  I pick
ed a chair in the corner and sat down. Now the onus was on Maggie or the man and woman who always kept to either side of her. It didn’t take long. In less than five minutes, a nattily dressed man came down and sat in the chair opposite me. The lobby was unoccupied, so I felt no need to be restrained.

  “Mr. Schmidt, I’m pleased to see you again.”

  He shook my hand. “If memory serves, you are Steve Dancy.”

  “Correct. Are you investigating a fraud?”

  “We were. It appears your friend killed our target. I just met with our client at the courthouse, and he informed me that our services are no longer required.”

  “Jonathon Winslow.” The meeting he was rushing to must have been short.

  “Our work is confidential.”

  “Where’s the captain?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Bullshit. He wouldn’t let you use his daughter as part of your disguise if he wasn’t close. We need him. Where is he?”

  “I’d prefer that you not take that tone with me, especially in public.”

  Carl and Mary Schmidt were a husband-and-wife team that worked covertly for the Pinkertons to investigate swindles and frauds. As he had explained to me last October, they were normally hired by marks who felt foolish and wanted to get even with the person who took their money. Revenge was far more important than money to these people, and since fraud victims were generally wealthy, business was lucrative. Sharp and I had met the Schmidts because McAllen had asked us to leave Maggie in their protective care while we thwarted a silver robbery.

  I took a deep breath and spoke calmly. “Is Captain McAllen in the area?”

  “Yes. He’s our supervisor on this assignment. But he stays away from us because his Pinkerton status is known. Mary goes riding with Maggie every day, and the captain meets up with them. She reports on our progress as the captain and his daughter ride along together. He stays away from us the rest of the time.”

  “Then I’d better go riding with them today.”

  Schmidt thought about that. “If the contract were really closed, I don’t think you joining the women would be a problem. You see, Jonathon Winslow fired us, but he’s not really the client.”