“Get out,” Wolpert snapped.
Always the professional, Dulcie covered herself as best she could and got out. Judging by the amount of whistles and catcalls she received, she might have jumped onto the old stage as soon as Wolpert shut the door behind her.
Burt had been lying in the bed when the lawman came in, but he swung his legs over the side and drove his fingers through his hair. Wearing only a pair of stained britches left his partially sunken chest exposed, giving him the look of a man with a mild case of consumption. Either that or he was simply rotting from the inside out. “Couldn’t have given me another few minutes before the interruption?”
“I’m sure you’ll get what you paid for. She’s understanding that way.”
“So, how was Omaha?”
“I think you already know the answer to that,” Wolpert replied. “In fact, it seems you knew the answer before I even got there.”
“Ah, so the fat man talked? I only met him once, but he did strike me as a squealer.”
“You told him I was the one who took those horses? What the hell would you do that for?”
“Toss me my shirt, will you?”
Burt’s clothes were piled against the wall near the foot of the bed. As much as he would have preferred Burt being dressed for their conversation, he noticed the outlaw’s holster hanging off the edge of the table on his side of the bed.
“Nice try, Burt,” Wolpert said. “If you’re so modest, wrap yourself up in a blanket.”
The other man shrugged and started to stand up. Before he could get to his feet, he received a warning from the sheriff that convinced him to swing his legs over to the other side of the bed and climb down that way. “Can’t blame a fellow for tryin’,” Burt said.
“No, but I can blame you for trying to get me killed.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Don’t try to lead me around by the ear,” Wolpert snapped. “I’ve had too long of a day for that. You sent word ahead of us that I was the one who stole those horses. What was the purpose of that?”
“You’re the one tossing around the accusations. You tell me.”
“If you wanted me dead, you could have shot me yourself. Or if you were too yellow for that, you could have had your men do it. Instead, you send all four of us out to Omaha without telling anyone what we were getting into.”
Burt raised his eyebrows and asked, “You’re certain those other three didn’t know?”
“Pretty much. They’re the ones who cut me loose when that fat piece of trash took me prisoner.”
Getting to his feet and walking over to his clothes, Burt looked genuinely baffled. “That horse salesman got over on you? Last time I talked to him, he barely had enough sand to hold a gun. You must be losing your touch.”
“He had time to prepare thanks to the telegram he received. Hired a bunch of gunmen to watch the rest of his stock.”
“Ahhh. That makes sense.” After hiking on his pants, Burt scooped up his shirt and slid into it. The movements made his ribs slide beneath his skin like thin iron rods wrapped in wet sackcloth. His chest seemed even more sunken as he arched his back to get himself fully situated within the clothing. By the time he’d buttoned the shirt, a thin layer of sweat appeared on his face and neck. “You say my boys came and got you?”
Wolpert nodded. “Something tells me that wasn’t on your orders.”
“Why would you think that? Who even told you about the message I was supposed to have sent along? George Unger? What makes his word gospel?”
“He wasn’t in any position to lie. You, on the other hand, don’t know any other language.”
Burt grinned like a kid who’d been caught trying to sneak up and give a fright to his ma. “It wouldn’t have done any good to tell you everything that was going on when I sent you to Omaha. Also, it wouldn’t have been half as fun. Sounds to me like you had an exciting trip.”
“I’m getting sick of this. Answer my question.”
“First off, I never expected you to get killed. I didn’t even expect you to get captured. I did send that telegram, but it was for the same reason I sent you there in the first place. You were to throw the folks in Omaha off the trail.”
“And you didn’t think I’d do what I was supposed to do?” Wolpert asked.
“It’s not that.” Cocking his head, Burt sat upon the edge of the bed and looked at the lawman with something verging on pity. “I couldn’t take the chance of you walking in there and drawing attention to our situation instead of defusing it,” Burt continued.
“Then why send me at all?”
“Because if George Unger was absolutely certain he knew who’d taken his horses, he wouldn’t have a reason to second-guess himself. I thought he might try to take a shot at you or possibly get some local law together to bring you in. You’d certainly be able to get out of a little mess like that and George would be so convinced what I told him was true that he wouldn’t have any reason to stick his nose into our business any longer. So as you can see, it really wasn’t that far off from what I originally told you.”
“What did you tell your boys?” Wolpert asked.
“Pretty much the same thing. I’m sure they understood once you told them all about it.”
Making his way to a little chair that seemed more like a spot for a man to set his clothes and personal items instead of his backside, Wolpert eased down until he felt certain the flimsy piece of furniture wouldn’t collapse under his weight. The Cavalry pistol remained in his hand, but rested across the top of his knee where it was more or less pointed in Burt’s direction. “I didn’t tell them. At least, not everything that I suspected was true.”
“Interesting.”
It wasn’t interesting in the slightest to Wolpert. The trip to Omaha, his talks with George, his capture, his escape, all of it had been pins on a map that led to a specific destination. He might not have known the route that was being traced while he’d been riding it, but now that a portion of the ride was over he could look back and see the trail just fine. He could even see that Burt was being mostly honest with him. Surely there were things the outlaw was keeping hidden, but the rest fell into place. Burt’s reasoning had been sound from a killer’s point of view. Even one unspoken part of his plan made complete sense. If Wolpert had been killed in Omaha for stealing those horses, the search for the real thief would have ended at the grave of a crooked lawman. Nice and neat.
Most men would have gotten their feathers ruffled a lot more after putting those pieces together because they would have been approaching the situation with too much personal interest in it. After all the years he’d spent living with his head down and doing the things he’d done, Wolpert was accustomed to detaching himself from things. It was like the clear, perfect quality of a winter morning. Everything was just clearer in the cold.
“Where are the horses now?”
“I sold ’em. They served their purpose, but there ain’t no reason for me to squeeze just a little more profit out of them.” Burt wasn’t stupid enough to dive for his gun and wasn’t quick enough to take the sheriff’s weapon away from him, so he just sat.
Wolpert let the outlaw stew for a little while longer before relieving some of the tension. “You forgot to ask me an important question.”
“Did I?” Burt asked. He rolled his eyes up into their sockets, gnawed on his bottom lip and then said, “I don’t think so.”
“You forgot to ask why George Unger didn’t kill me.”
That hit a nerve, but it was way down inside Burt’s head. If he hadn’t been watching so closely and if he hadn’t known the outlaw so well, Wolpert might have missed the twitch.
“Why would I ask that?” Burt replied. “I know him well enough to think he couldn’t get over on you.”
“But he did.”
“And here you are.” Burt jumped to his feet and started pacing up and down the length of the bed. “You’re the one who busted in here when I was trying to have a good time, which
I paid for, by the way. Now you’re upset because I didn’t say the right thing when you wanted to hear it? If I wanted that kind of grief, I’d get a wife and not have to throw my money at Dulcie whenever I’m in town.”
After pretending to find those comments amusing, Wolpert tightened his grip around his gun and asked, “Where were those horses headed, Burt? You might as well tell me because I’ll only find out on my own soon enough.”
“I won’t know for certain until I have a word with a friend of mine.” Regaining some of his composure, Burt curled one corner of his mouth into a grin and added, “He’s another law dog for sale. Maybe you know him.”
Wolpert’s hand lifted only an inch, but it made all the difference in the world. Instead of being pointed mostly in the outlaw’s direction, the Cavalry pistol was now aiming at a spot in the middle of Burt’s head. “I want to know what’s going on,” he said in a voice that made it clear he wasn’t about to tolerate another offhanded remark. “All of it.”
“Or what? You’re gonna shoot me if I don’t? Why would you throw away all the money you’re set to earn by doing something as stupid as all that?”
Burt was looking at him in a different way, so Wolpert knew he had to be seen more as a partner again instead of an enemy. Outlaws expected different things from their partners, and a little bit of heavy-handedness wasn’t exactly viewed as a bad thing.
“Because what you’re going to pay me has got to be a pittance compared to what you’re set to earn,” Wolpert growled. “I want in on the entire job and I want a real cut of the profits. I’ll be doing enough to earn more than what you offered anyway.”
“Is that so?” Burt asked with renewed interest.
“Yeah.”
“Shooting me won’t get you nowhere.”
“Maybe,” the lawman said without batting an eye, “but it won’t lose me anything either. You were ready to pay me when I returned, so you must have the rest of my money around here somewhere. I shoot you, claim it was self-defense and get on with my life. Whatever you had planned won’t get done and the world will keep spinning. Well, not for you, I suppose.”
“Self-defense, huh? You think my boys will buy that one?”
“I don’t care if they do or don’t. When you’re lying facedown with a messy hole through your skull, you won’t care either. Seems like a mighty high price to pay just to deny yourself a valuable partner in your little endeavor.”
Now it was Burt’s turn to study the man in front of him. “You want in on the whole deal, do ya?”
“That’s right,” Wolpert said with a nod.
A crooked smile quickly drifted onto the outlaw’s face. “And what about this business of what happened in Omaha? You gotta know I never thought you’d be caught by the likes of George Unger.”
“Every now and then, the sun will even shine on a dog’s ass.”
“Lucky shot, huh?” Burt chuckled. “That must be it. Will that incident be put behind us or should I watch my back?”
“You should always watch your back, Burt. If I’d wanted you to bleed for what you did with that telegram, you’d be bleeding right now. I have jurisdiction in this whole county, but in this town, I could set this whole saloon on fire without having to answer to anyone. Instead, you’ll repay me in cash.”
Ignoring the pistol in Wolpert’s hand, Burt strode up and clapped him on the shoulder. “To be honest, I never thought you had it in you to aim for the top of a deal like this. You always seemed content to collect your bribes and squirrel away the fines you collected.”
“A man’s got to think about his future. I figure a proper cut on something like this might just allow me to retire. I could even pass along my badge to someone I trust. Who knows?” Wolpert added. “Maybe that man would be someone you trust as well.”
Burt’s eyes widened with a flash of greed that hit him too hard and too fast for it to be covered up. “I could name the next county sheriff?”
“I do the naming, but I could most definitely draw from a batch of names proposed by an adviser. That is, if I have the means to retire. In the event that I’m killed in the line of duty or even if I happen to turn up missing while on a ride, I’ve made arrangements for another replacement. Let’s just say he’s a bright-eyed young man who’s anxious to clean up Keith County and doesn’t share my cooperative nature.”
Already nodding enthusiastically, Burt was too eager to spot the bluff. “I get the picture. No bullets in the back of your head during the job or your replacement will hunt me down like a good little law dog.”
“Something like that.”
“All right, then. Let’s do some talking, partner.”
Lucy responded to the knock at her door with an angry scowl on her face and a thick piece of lumber in her hand. At that time of night, the only men to pay her a visit were either drunks or gamblers looking for her brothers. Either way, she didn’t want to talk to them. Knowing those kinds of annoyances rarely went away on their own, she pulled the door open to speed the process along.
“What do you want?” she snapped. “It’s too late to—Sheriff Wolpert?”
He stood leaning against the door frame as if he would fall over without it. “That’s right,” he said with a breath that was laden with the scent of whiskey. “If it’s too late to call on you, I could go.”
“No, of course not. Come in.” After propping her makeshift weapon against the wall, she straightened the blankets that she’d wrapped around her shoulders. The skirt of her long nightgown made it past the blankets and fell to her feet, but she fretted as though she were barely half dressed. It made Dulcie’s earlier walk through the saloon even more indecent in comparison. “I don’t have any supper ready, but I’m sure I could scrounge up something.”
“No need for that. I just stopped by for a quick word.”
The more the lawman spoke, the thicker the stench of liquor became. Before long, it hung like a pungent cloud between them. “At least have some coffee,” she pressed. “I insist.”
Shutting his mouth and grinding his teeth as if chewing on the firewater he’d had after his talk with Burt, Wolpert nodded. “Yeah. That would be good.”
“Come inside, then. You’re letting all the warmth out.”
Wolpert stepped inside and shut the brisk night out behind him.
The small front room was obviously hers and hers alone. Chairs were arranged just right and the few little tables were all topped by simple doilies and small picture frames. If either of her brothers was there very often, the place wouldn’t be nearly as cozy. A small dining area and kitchen were at the back of the house, the latter of which emanated the warmth she’d been so anxious to hold on to.
“There’s some coffee here from this morning,” she said from the kitchen. “If you like, I can make some more.”
“I’ve drunk sludge made from river water and twice-used chicory, so your leftovers should be plenty good enough.”
Lucy’s face twisted into a disgusted grimace, which struck Wolpert as funny. She shook her head as if trying to knock his words loose from her ears and set about warming the coffee on her stove. “So, what brings you here, Sheriff? Are my brothers making fools of themselves again?”
“No,” he replied while looking around the house for any trace of Matt or Dale. “It’s not to do with them.”
When she emerged from the kitchen, she wiped her hands on a cloth while looking at him with genuine concern on her face. Her black hair hung loosely on either side of her face, made her look pure and inviting. Without trying, she was more woman than any of the others Wolpert had ever known.
“So?” she prodded. “If my brothers aren’t causing trouble somewhere, what brings you out on such a cold night?”
“I wanted to have a word with you. I’m heading out for a while and—”
“That’s right. You mentioned that when I saw you last time. Or did you already come back from that?” She must have heard something in the kitchen, because Lucy turned on the balls of
her feet and headed back there in a rush. “Things have been busy around the Thrown Shoe. A bunch of cowboys all got it in their heads to buy new saddles. Matt had a word with them and wouldn’t you know, they’ve been pestering me ever since to match prices from John Lindsay’s store at the other end of town.”
Wolpert stayed in his spot just inside the front door, listening to the constant patter of her feet against the kitchen floor and waiting for her to come up for air. The more she talked, however, the longer she seemed willing to go without a pause.
“If any of those cowboys wind up buying anything more than a single stall for their horses,” she said as she emerged from the kitchen carrying a cup of smoking coffee in her hands, “then my brother will have done some good. If all they do is waste my time and keep me running around to show them the saddles I have for sale, then I’ll skin Matt and Dale and hang them both from the rafters.” Shaking off that sentiment while also shrugging out of one of her blankets, she handed the cup over to him. “There you go, Sheriff. Why don’t you have a seat?”
“No, thanks. I’d prefer to stand. If I get too comfortable, I’ll want to stay the night.”
Although that was meant in the friendliest manner possible, Wolpert couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable by what he’d said. His brain was already working several steps ahead of his mouth and he could only hope Lucy wasn’t right up there with it. Her smile faltered only a little, so she was either unaware of his thoughts or too polite to call him out because of them.
“All right, then,” she said.
“I wanted to tell you I’d be leaving again.”
“Does this have something to do with those stolen horses?”
“No. I’m leaving for a while again and I’ve got a mighty big favor to ask of you. While I’m gone, I need you to be ready to get a message from me. When you get it, you’ll have to act fast and possibly be ready to leave town yourself. Since you’ve always got horses available to you, I thought you’d be perfect for this.”
“Shouldn’t you have deputies for that?” she asked.
“I can trust you more’n anyone who’d agree to be my deputy. When I send word back here, I’ll see to it that Dominick Moynihan is the one to get it. You know him?”
Ralph Compton Rusted Tin Page 10
