The Deadly Chest

by J. R. Roberts

  “Yes, ma’am,” the desk clerk said. “A bath. I can have that drawn for you right away.”

  “A hot bath?”

  “Well . . . yes, ma’ am.”

  “Good,” she said. “Send someone to my room when it’s ready.”

  “Yes, ma’ am.”

  “Also, I need to hire a man to do a job.”

  “What kind of job, ma’am?”

  “Would you stop calling me ‘ma’am?’” she asked. “It’s Miss Burns.”

  “Yes, ma—Miss Burns. “What kind of job do you need done?”

  “I’ll discuss that with the man,” she said. “Where would I look for someone? In a saloon?”

  “Miss Burns, I wouldn’t try to go into a saloon alone, if I was you,” he said. “You might be taken advantage of.”

  “Taken advantage of?”

  “Someone might take your money and then not do the job.”

  “Then how do I find someone reliable?”

  “Umm, you might try talking to the sheriff?”

  “All right,” she said, “could you have him come to my room?”

  “Um, Ma—Miss Burns, we don’t have that kind of control over the sheriff.”

  “No, of course not,” she said. “All right. After my bath I’ll go to him. You’ll tell me the way, then?”

  “Of course, ma’ am.”

  “Thank you.”

  She turned to run back up the steps and ran into the same man.

  “You again?” she demanded.

  “Sorry,” Clint said. “I didn’t expect you—”

  “You should just look where you’re going!” she said, and ran past him.

  Clint walked to the front desk.

  “That her?” he asked.

  “What? Oh, yes, Miss Burns. She’s quite upset.”

  “I can see that,” Clint said. “Must have been something important to her in her luggage.”

  Clint left the lobby before the clerk could decide to tell him Miss Burns was looking to hire somebody.

  FOUR

  Sheriff Tom Lane looked up when his office door opened, then jumped to his feet when he saw the woman enter.

  “Are you the sheriff?” she asked.

  She was so pretty that at first he couldn’t find his voice.

  “Y-yes, I’m, Sheriff Lane. W-what can I do for you, ma’am?”

  “My name is Loretta Burns,” she said. “I prefer ‘Miss Burns’ to ‘Ma’am.’”

  “Yes, Ma—yes, Miss Burns.”

  “May I sit?”

  “Please do.”

  Loretta Burns looked and smelled like she was fresh from a bath. At fifty, Tom Lane was still hopelessly tonguetied around women—especially pretty ones.

  “Sheriff, I came in on the stage this morning; when we arrived, one of my pieces of luggage was missing. It was a large, black chest and it had apparently fallen off in transit.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said. “That chest is very important to me.”

  “Well, what is the stage line gonna do about it?” he asked.

  “Nothing!” she said. “Absolutely nothing! It’s terrible. They refuse to even send a man out to look for it.”

  “Well, I—I guess they figure, where would they look?” he said.

  “Now you sound like that little man who runs the stage line, what’s his name? Blake?”

  “Yeah, that’s his name, Blake.”

  “Well,” she said, “I just cannot accept that there’s nothing I can do.”

  “Well, ma’—um, Miss Burns, I don’t see how I can help ya. I can’t leave town to go out lookin’ for it, and I can’t send one of my deputies—”

  “I don’t expect you to do anything,” she said. “I would like to hire someone to go out and look for it.”

  “Well, you can do that,” he said.

  “I don’t know who to hire,” she said. “I was hoping you could steer me toward someone reliable.”

  “Well,” he said, scratching his bald head, “I guess you could go over to one of the saloons—”

  “I thought of that,” she said. “The desk clerk at the hotel recommended against my going into a saloon alone. He seemed to think I might be taken advantage of by someone . . . disreputable.”

  “Well, sure,” the sheriff said, “There’s any number of men who would take your money, go out and have a nap somewhere, and then come back and tell you they couldn’t find it.”

  “What kind of a man would do that?” she demanded.

  “A lowlife, miss,” he said, “and there’s plenty of them around.”

  “Then what do you suggest I do?” she asked. “Surely you must know someone you can recommend?”

  “Well, I can give it some thought,” he said. “Where are ya stayin’ ?”

  “The Heritage Hotel,” she said.

  “Well, lemme think about it and get back to ya,” he said.

  “I’d like to get someone to go out tomorrow and start looking,” she said.

  “Well . . . how much would you be willing to pay?”

  “One hundred dollars.”

  He swallowed hard. That was just over two months’ salary.

  “Ma’am,” he said, “don’t go sayin’ that out loud around town. Just wait ’til you hear from me.”

  “Very well,” she said, standing up. “If I can’t trust the local law, who can I trust?”

  FIVE

  “If she’s got a hundred dollars to spend, then she’d got more than that.”

  Sheriff Tom Lane was sitting in a small stable on the southern edge of town, talking to two other men named Joey Votto and Angel Pagan.

  “So?” Angel asked. “How do we get it from her?”

  “I’ll recommend you to do the job she needs done,” Lane said. “You and Joey just wait for her to take her money out to pay.”

  “And then we take it?” Joey asked.

  “Or find out if she’s got even more,” the sheriff said.

  “And she’s gonna trust us because you say so?” Angel asked.

  “She even said when she was in the office: ‘If you can’t trust the law who can you trust?’”

  All three men laughed.

  “Is she good-lookin’?” Angel asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Lane said. “She’s very pretty.”

  “So, once we get the money . . .”

  “As long as I get my cut,” Lane said, “I don’t care what you do.”

  Angel and Joey exchanged a satisfied glance.

  Early on in his stay, Clint had chosen the Golden Palace as his saloon of choice. After two beers, he came out of the saloon and took a deep breath. Across the street he saw Sheriff Lane come out of a stable, followed by two other men who looked suspicious. The two of them had worn trail clothes on, and guns worn low on their hips in a fashion they mistakenly thought would allow them to draw their weapons faster.

  It looked to Clint like a meeting nobody was supposed to know about.

  He stepped back into the saloon and watched through the window as the two men crossed toward him. Obviously they were going to follow up their meeting with a drink.

  Clint moved to the end of the bar farthest from the window.

  “’nother one?” the bartender asked.

  “Why not?”

  “Thought you were leavin’.”

  “Got thirsty on my way to the door.”

  The bartender laughed and set another beer down in front of him. “It’s slow, so I can always use the business,” the man said.

  The two men entered and immediately walked to the bar. They positioned themselves near the center, so Clint was able to hear their conversation. One of them looked Mexican, the other one white. In his mind, he dubbed them “Mex” and “Gringo.”

  “Whaddaya think?” Mex asked.

  “Lane hasn’t steered us wrong yet,” Gringo replied. “If he says the woman has money, she has it.”

  “Which means,” Mex said, “that we will soon have it.
”

  “All we gotta do is get her to hire us,” Gringo said.

  “And if she’s as good-lookin’ as the sheriff says she is, we can have some enjoyment later,” Mex said.

  The two men laughed, then quieted down when the bartender came over with two beers.

  Clint nursed his beer as the two men continued to talk, but they had lowered their voices, probably to keep the bartender from overhearing.

  The two men finished their beers, then slapped each other on the back and left. Clint waved the bartender over.

  “Who were those two?”

  “Them?” the bartender asked, jerking his thumb toward the spot where the two men had been standing. “That’s Angel Pagan and Joey Votto.”

  “And who are they?”

  “Just two troublemakers who hang around town.”

  “What do they do?”

  “Hire out.”

  “For what?”

  “Anythin’, as long as it’s not honest work,” the bartender said.

  “And what’s their relationship to the sheriff?” Clint asked.

  “Um, he’s thrown them in jail once or twice for drunkenness.”

  “That’s it?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “So they’d never do an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay?”

  “Hell, no!”

  “Okay, thanks.” Clint finished his third beer and pushed the empty mug away.

  “Another?” the barman asked.

  “No. This time I’m done. See you later tonight, though.”

  Clint left the saloon, looked both ways for the two men, but they were gone.

  Looking for trouble, he was certain.

  SIX

  When the knock came at her door, Loretta Burns hurriedly opened it.

  “What?” she asked the desk clerk.

  “Ma’am—I mean, miss, uh, there are two men down in the lobby who want to talk to you.”

  “What do they want?”

  “They say they heard you were hiring.”

  “Tell them I’ll be right down.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  She closed the door in the clerk’s face. She had to change her clothes for a meeting with potential employees.

  “What’d she say?” Angel asked the clerk.

  “She’ll be right down.”

  “Good,” Joey said.

  The clerk stared at the two men.

  “What, Dwight?” Angel asked.

  “You ain’t gonna do nothin’, are ya?” Dwight the clerk asked.

  “Whadda you care, Dwight?” Angel asked. “You just keep yer mouth shut, ya hear?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Dwight said, “yeah, I hear.”

  “Go on back to yer desk,” Joey said.

  Dwight went.

  When Loretta came down, she found two unkempt men waiting for her in the lobby. She had hoped to do better, but in looking around town she found that these two were pretty much representative of the men around there.

  “Are you the men looking for work?” she asked.

  The two men looked her up and down and made her feel like a piece of meat.

  “We heard you was lookin’ for some good men,” one of them said. He was tall, dirty, and looked Mexican.

  “I was looking for one man,” she said, “but I could use two.”

  “You payin’ a hundred dollars each?” the other man asked. He was shorter, and white, but as dirty.

  “I will pay you one hundred and fifty dollars for both of you,” she said. She waited, then added, “That’s seventy-five dollars each.”

  The men exchanged a glance.

  Clint was about to enter the hotel when he saw Loretta Burns in the lobby talking with two men—the same two he’d seen in the saloon.

  He paused, took a step back, but was still able to watch and listen . . .

  “I need you to find something for me,” she told the two men.

  “What?” Angel asked.

  “A trunk, a black trunk.”

  “How big?” Angel asked.

  “Big enough for you to fit in, if you could pull your knees up to your chest.”

  “Where is it?” Joey asked.

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t need you,” she told him. Her tone said he was an idiot.

  “I think what my partner means is, where did it get lost?”

  “It fell off the back of the stage I came in on,” she said. “And before you ask, I don’t know when it fell off.”

  “Then how do we find it?” Joey asked.

  “I suggest you ride back over the stage route,” she said, “and look.”

  “That could take a long time,” Angel said.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” she said. “If you don’t find it by the time you get to the first station, I’ll double the money.”

  “This trunk,” Angel said, “it must be pretty important to you.”

  “Sentimental value,” she said.

  “We will need some money,” he said. “We’ll need to get outfitted.”

  “Outfitted?”

  “We’ll need supplies, since we’ll be on the trail for a while.”

  “Oh, yes.” She reached into her purse, “Will fifty dollars be enough?”

  “Fifty’ll do . . . for now,” Angel said.

  Clint watched as the woman went back upstairs, and the two men headed for the door. Clint backed up, sat down in a chair he bumped into, and pulled his hat down over his face.

  The two men came out, stopped on the boardwalk.

  “We got fifty dollars,” Joey said.

  “So?” Angel asked.

  “What do we do?”

  “What we said we were gonna do,” Angel said. “Get outfitted.”

  “But the sheriff—”

  “The sheriff thinks small, Joey.”

  “And we don’t?”

  “I don’t,” Angel said.

  “What are we gonna do?”

  “We’re gonna find that chest,” Angel said.

  “What for?” Joey asked. “I thought we was just gonna take her money? And have some fun. She looks pretty tasty, don’t she?”

  “Yeah, she does,” Angel said, “but she sure is anxious to get that chest back.”

  “Yeah, so? What do you think is in that trunk, Angel?” Joey asked.

  “That’s what I wanna find out, Joey,” Angel said. “That’s what we both gotta find out.”

  SEVEN

  Clint watched the two men walk away, remained seated on his chair. This wasn’t any of his business. The rude woman had hired two untrustworthy men to find her lost chest. So what if they took her money under false pretenses. What did that matter to him?

  For one thing, the sheriff had tipped them off. That made the sheriff crooked, and he didn’t like crooked lawmen.

  Second, from what the two men had said in the saloon, they were going to do more than just take her money. It sounded like they wanted to rape her. And he hated rapists, more than crooked lawmen. Even if the woman was rude.

  And third . . . well, there wasn’t a third. Those two things were enough for him to butt in.

  He got out of the chair and entered the lobby. Before going up the stairs, he stopped at the front desk.

  “You know those two?” he asked.

  “Um, what two?”

  “The two men who just left.”

  The clerk looked frightened.

  “What’s your name?” Clint asked.

  “Dwight.”

  “Well, Dwight, I just need some simple answers. Why would you be too afraid to give them to me?”

  “Um, those two, they’re–—well . . . bad.”

  “What are their names?” Clint asked, double-checking the information he’d gotten from the bartender.

  “Angel and Joey,” Dwight said. “I-I don’t know their last names.”

  That was good enough.

  Clint went up to the second floor and knocked on the door to Loretta Burns’s room. When she opened the doo
r she glared at him. He was amazed a woman could still be so beautiful with such an angry look on her face.

  “You!” she said. “Have you come to my own room to knock me over?”

  “No, ma’am, I came here to help you.”

  “With what?” she asked. “I don’t need any help.”

  “If you’d let me come in—”

  “You cannot enter my room, sir,” she said. “I don’t even know who you are.”

  “My name is Clint Adams.”

  “That means nothing to me.”

  He studied her face and knew she was telling the truth.

  “Ma’am, I’ve been hearing around town that you need to hire somebody to find something for you.”

  “So that’s it,” she said, folding her arms. “You heard I was offering one hundred dollars for a job and you’re here to try and get it. Well, you’re too late. I’ve already hired two men for the job.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said. “I know who they are. Angel and Joey . . . something.”

  “You don’t know their last names?”

  “Do you?”

  They stared at each other.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Adams,” she said. “I’ve already hired my men. I can’t use you.”

  “The men you hired are, for want of a better word, crooked.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “I’m as honest as the day is long, Miss Burns,” Clint said.

  “I’m sure. I think I’ll stick with the men I already have.”

  “If you do, you’ll end up penniless, and raped.”

  “You’re trying to frighten me, Mr. Adams.”

  “You should be frightened, Miss Burns.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Angel and Joey are bad men, Miss Burns, pure and simple,” he said. “There’s no other way to put it.”

  “I see. And you want to save me from them?”

  “No.”

  “No? Then why are you here?”

  “Just to warn you,” he said.

  “Well, do you have any other warnings for me?” she asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” he said. “Don’t trust the sheriff.”