by Robert Knott
“Who would want to do that?” I said. “What people would want to fuck with you, as it were?”
“I will not be intimidated or pushed around by McCormick or anyone else.”
“Since the gold was found, you realize we have to be extra careful with our business,” Eugene said.
“McCormick has hired his own men, too, Marshal Cole, I’m sure you know this, and I have my men. I am not certain about the men McCormick has hired, but my men are not breaking any laws. They’re only there if there is trouble, and they’re not wearing firearms in town.”
“That’s the law,” I said.
“Yes, as well as my strict instruction. It’s no secret that I do not care for the McCormick brothers and they do not care for me, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
“You hired Victor Bartholomew?” Virgil said.
“Is that a problem? Have I broken a law?”
“Don’t know. Have you?”
“Listen, Marshal Cole. I’m just trying to protect my interest. This is one of the most colossal finds in decades. And as we have said but will reiterate, there is a hell of a lot of money at stake here.”
“You don’t need to reiterate nothing,” Virgil said. “But what you do need to do is take care of your business without causing others trouble. You do that and everything will be muy bueno.”
“Look, we need to be extra cautious. That is all. I have instructed my men to watch his men. I don’t want to be confronted with some kind of Irish Mob takeover. But that is it, and they know nothing of the missing man. Now, if you will excuse us, we will be on our way.”
“His brother with him?” I said.
“I’m sorry, what? Who?”
“Victor’s brother?” Virgil said. “You hire him, too?”
“No. I have no idea who you are referring to.”
“Where did you find Victor?”
“I have a business associate in San Cristobal who recommended him,” Henri said. “Said he was reliable.”
“Reliable?” I said.
“Yes,” Henri said.
Virgil nodded.
“Appreciate your time,” Virgil said.
The two men turned and faced the street. They waited for a rider then crossed. We watched after them a second or two, then Virgil glanced at me and smiled.
“Not the most likable,” I said.
“No,” Virgil said. “They’re not.”
5
The McCormick brothers were new to Appaloosa. They were not the rough-and-tough, and often crude, Irishmen we normally encountered. They were very different. Educated and civilized. They were older, industrious men who moved to town with money in their pockets. And from what we knew of them, they were not crooks. They started up a number of businesses within their first year of residency, and they employed a good number of people. They were ranchers with a decent-size cow/calf operation, but they also owned a dry-goods business, a furniture store, and now a gold-mining outfit.
But Appaloosa was growing so fast it was getting harder and harder to keep up with all that was happening. Who was moving in and who was doing what. And like so many of the newcomers in Appaloosa these days, Virgil and I had never met the McCormick brothers. We’d seen them, and knew of them, mainly through Allie, who was friends with the wife of one of the brothers.
There were three young men in the front office. They were all dressed in nice clean suits and wore lace-up shoes, and each was busy sorting and unsorting papers when we entered. One of them, a thin young man sitting behind the center desk that separated the large entry from the main offices, finished some writing and smiled up at us.
“May I help you?” he said.
He leaned back in his chair as we walked to his desk. A huge map of the McCormicks’ gold mines loomed large behind him.
“Here to see the McCormicks,” I said.
“James is out, but Mr. McCormick, Daniel, is in,” he said. “May I tell him who is calling?”
“You may. Marshal Virgil Cole,” I said. “And Deputy Marshal Hitch, Everett Hitch.”
“One moment,” he said.
He got to his feet.
“I’m Lawrence Newcomb, by the way, I’m the office manager here at McCormick Enterprises.”
Lawrence was tall and very thin and moved like a graceful dancer. He walked off down a short hall and turned the corner. The other men stayed busy as we waited, and after a minute Lawrence returned.
“Right this way,” he said.
We followed Lawrence into Daniel McCormick’s office. Daniel, the older of the two brothers, stood to greet us as we entered.
“I figured it was only just a matter of time before we met,” he said with a very slight Irish brogue. “I’ve heard a great deal about the both of you.”
Lawrence left, closing the door behind him. Daniel got up from behind his desk to shake our hands. He held out his hand first to Virgil, but I reached out to him.
“Virgil doesn’t shake hands,” I said.
His eyes rendered a glint of curiosity but then he smiled and nodded.
“Oh. Well, fine.”
He shook my hand, then motioned to the chairs facing his desk.
“Please, have a seat.”
We did just that, then he moved around and sat behind the large oak desk.
“Why’d you figure it’d be a matter of time?” Virgil said.
“Oh, just a figure of speech.”
He opened a cigar box and held it out to us.
“Cigar?”
I held up my hand, declining, but Virgil nodded and retrieved one from the box.
Daniel offered a tip cutter and lighter. Virgil clipped the tip and lit the cigar. Then Daniel did the same. Once Daniel got his going good, he blew a roll of smoke, set both of his hands on the desk, and narrowed his eyes.
“Not really a figure of speech, is it? It’s of course more than that. It’s serious business to have an employee go missing. And know that it is the work of a sonofabitch little Frenchman and his band of no-goods.”
“What all do you know about this?” I said. “Your missing employee?”
He shook his head.
“His name was Randal Fisher. By all accounts a good, hard-working young man. Honest and showed up to work on time. That is, until he didn’t show up.”
“And up to the time of Randal Fisher not showing up, was there any sign of trouble between him and anyone else?”
“None that I know of.”
“Where was Fisher living?” I said.
“Boardinghouse here in town.”
“And you have checked with them,” I said. “When they saw him last and so forth?”
“Yes. Well, my brother did, and they had not seen him. What few things Fisher had to his name were left under his bunk. But one night he did not come back, and that was it. We shared this with the Appaloosa deputy. Deputy Book, I believe.”
“And you think the Frenchman’s men are to blame?”
“Of course.”
“What makes you say that?” I said.
“Who else?”
“We know you have hired gunmen,” I said.
He puffed on his cigar and stared at us before turning his gaze to the window. He rolled his fingers on the desk as he thought, then he leveled a harsh look at us.
“I have managed many businesses in my time. And I have worked hard at all of them, and never have I been involved in criminal activity. I hired the gunmen, yes, I had to.”
“Had to?” I said.
“Yes. When the Frenchman and his group hired men to intimidate my men. Well, I did the same, and since then I have felt better about my entity.”
“How did you find these men?” Virgil said.
“I placed an ad in The Territorial Gazette.”
“How many m
en do you have?” Virgil said.
“Six.”
“Who are they?” I said.
“Do you mean what are their names?” he said.
I nodded.
“Yes,” I said.
He opened his desk drawer and retrieved a piece of paper and slid it across the desk. I picked up the list and read the names out loud.
I shook my head.
“Never heard of them.”
“Where are they?” Virgil said.
“They spend a good deal of time at the mine.”
“How is it you came about owning this mine?” Virgil said.
“I bought it.”
“Why?” Virgil said.
“Originally to run cattle.”
“Not the best land for cattle,” I said.
“We have always been in the cattle business, and when we arrived here in Appaloosa, it was our intention to continue with the cattle business. So we searched for some land to buy.”
“But how was it you bought it,” Virgil said. “How did you come about it? Was it for sale and you just came across land where gold would soon be discovered?”
“I paid a good price for it. More than it was worth.”
“Did you know there was gold on the land before you bought it?” Virgil said.
“No.”
“But you wanted that land. Why?” Virgil said.
“It’s not bad cattle land, that is why.”
“Not great,” I said.
“No, but not bad. My brother approached the Baptiste Group and worked out a deal with them.”
“What kind of deal?”
“We knew he owned the land. And my brother, James, simply asked him if he’d be willing to sell a portion of the property. And that is what happened. They were not using the land. We struck a deal. Paid the Baptiste Group the money, and the land became ours.”
“How many head do you have out there?”
“Now, not many. Once the gold was discovered, we naturally shifted our focus.”
Virgil nodded, puffing on the cigar.
“Who discovered the gold? The Baptiste Group, or was it you?”
Daniel rolled his fingers in a drumming rhythm again.
“We did.”
“And you had no idea about the gold prior?” I said.
“No,” he said. “Like I said.”
“You said you found it?” Virgil said. “‘We’? We who exactly?”
“My brother, James, discovered it.”
“He just stumbled across it?” I said.
“No. Well, kind of. No cattle had been on that land to speak of, and, as you know, water is scarce in these parts, and James was looking to see what possible water source there might be. There was little water, so we figured maybe it was a good idea to dynamite, to open a water source underground. Sure enough we got water, but we also got gold.”
“So how did Baptiste find out about what you found?” I said.
“James had hired a few men who helped with the dynamiting and, well, they said they’d keep quiet about it, but . . .”
“They didn’t?” I said.
“No. Gold excites people, makes people do strange things. Things they might not normally do.”
“Like making people disappear,” Virgil said.
6
The kid walked out of the jail with the jailer’s Winchester, his Colt revolver, and what money the jailer had in his pocket. He skirted around the plaza and stayed in the dark under the awnings. But once he was to the other side, where the festivities were still going on, he stashed the guns and moved out into the crowd.
He figured it would be morning before someone found the dead-and-gone jailer. So he settled in and enjoyed himself. He ate a big plate of food until he could eat no more. Then he got up and danced to the music. He even asked a young señorita to dance. He told her not to be concerned with his busted lip and bruised face, that he’d just had a horse fall but was a good dancer. And he was a good dancer, had grace and a rhythm that the señoritas admired. He danced and danced, first with one señorita, then another. He danced so much his feet got tired. He drank some beer and got some more food.
After he got his belly full again and danced with his favorite señorita, he excused himself. He gathered up his weapons and poked around the Army corrals behind the jail.
He was thrilled and not too surprised to find the pony he’d won. The kid really liked the horse. He was a small, friendly tricolored geld that was easy to ride. The kid was an expert rider. He had a way with horses, even the rank ones, but this one he felt comfortable with.
In the tack room he found an even better saddle than the one that was originally on the pony. And even though the party was still going on, he figured he best not push his luck. So he mounted up and rode off into the dark night.
* * *
• • •
He cleared a good amount of distance away from the town the first night. He found a cool place to sleep in the morning for a few hours. Then, after another half-day in the saddle, he came to a depot, where he rested and got more food. He played some cards and drank a little whiskey with some section-line fellas. Then lit out again, staying on the move.
The following day he came to a farm, where a friendly couple offered him a place to bed for the night. That is, if he helped with the chores.
They told him there was a village a few hours’ ride up the road, but since they had been without their regular help they’d be appreciative if he’d pitch in. And he did that; he pitched in and did some feeding, hauling, paint scraping, and cleaning. The kid was no stranger to hard work. He’d spent his youth bouncing from one family to another and they always put him to work.
After the work, he washed up and sat at the table with the couple. The husband was quiet and hardly said a word all day, but the wife was friendly and chatty. She was also pretty, for an older woman who’d spent hard years on the farm. Her skin was dark and her face was thin, with high cheekbones. She had deep-set blue eyes, kind of like his, and the kid thought she likely resembled his mother. Her hair was up and freshly washed. She wore a white cotton dress with a wide red scarf that draped over her shoulders. The kid thought about what she might look like under her dress. She said they had not had children, so he thought her breasts most likely were in good condition and not worn out from nursing. He thought she smelled good, too.
“So, young man,” she said with a warm smile, “just where will you be heading to tomorrow?”
“Well, I’m not sure, ma’am, just how far I will get. I’m sort of taking it easy.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yep, I’ve waited this long, I mean, it’s been a long time, so there is no need to hurry.”
“Waited?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“For?”
“Let the boy eat his supper.”
“No, that’s okay. I’m going home.”
“Well, that’s nice,” she said.
“I’m hoping so.”
“Where is home?”
“Trinidad.”
She smiled and looked to her husband, who remained focused on cutting up his pork chop.
“Well, I think I have heard of it,” she said, “yes, but I’ve never been there.”
“Me neither.”
She frowned.
“But you said it was home.”
He smiled.
“Home is where the heart is.”
She smiled and reached out and touched his hand.
“That’s nice. I’m very happy for you.”
“Thank you.”
She squeezed his hand, then took a sip of water.
“That’s a beautiful scarf,” he said.
“Why, thank you. It was my mother’s.”
“That’s nice.�
�
“I hope you, you don’t mind me asking, but what happened to your face?”
He touched his lip.
“Why, I almost forgot about it,” he said with a mouthful of whipped potatoes.
He laughed, which made her smile and chuckle, too.
“Well, I was arrested by these two no-good soldiers and they beat the tar outta me.”
She glanced at her husband then turned her attention back to the kid with a concerned expression.
“Arrested?”
“Yep, yes, ma’am, arrested and locked up. Behind bars in an Army jail down on the border.”
The kid kept on eating as she stared to her husband, who was no longer focused on his pork chop.
“What were you arrested for?” the husband said.
The kid took a few bites before he answered.
“Murder.”
The woman’s concerned face changed to fear. Then she lowered her fork slowly and rested it very gently on her plate, careful not to make any noise.
“And they let you go?” the husband said.
“No.”
“How did you get out of jail, then?”
The kid held up a spoon.
“Well, I whittled down a spoon handle like this one here, carved it into a sharp point, and jabbed it into the soldier jailer’s neck a few times, and that did the trick.”
The wife started shaking. She moved her chair away from the table.
Her husband stared at the kid.
Then, with a sudden burst of energy, the husband went for a rifle near the door.
But he was way too slow.
7
There was an Appaloosa Days poster set up outside the main entrance of the Boston House Hotel when I entered. I thought about the upcoming event and all that Allie had put into it thus far. And it made me think with all the advertising and with all the people now living in Appaloosa, it was no doubt bound to be one hell of a crowded event.
I made my way through the busy lobby, walked into the saloon, and was happy to find a vacant stool at the end of the bar, where I waited for Virgil and Allie to arrive. The place was jam-packed and noisy. Wallis was having a hard time behind the bar keeping the service coming, and I sat for a bit before I even got his attention.
