“No. In fact, I may want two of you to accompany me to Carson City.”
“I recommend against traveling.”
“I have business in Carson City, business crucial to bringing this troublesome state of affairs to an end.”
“In that case, all of us will accompany you.”
“No, Sprague’s here … or coming here. I want four of you to stay and protect my friends.”
“Why would he bother your friends? The man works strictly to his contract.”
“These men may very well be on his contract list. I can’t dismiss the possibility. Besides, I understand he prefers the ambush. If we move with speed, he’ll never get set up ahead of us. Two of your men should be enough.”
“That’s my decision to make, not yours.”
“I hired you; I make the decisions.”
“Mr. Dancy, I don’t work that way. My job is to keep clients from making foolish mistakes. We know Sprague has you as a target. We don’t know about your friends. We’ll do things my way.” McAllen took an intimidating step toward me. “I refuse to break up my team.”
“Then please escort me to the telegraph office. I need to wire your head office.”
McAllen traded glances with his men, and then he turned a hard look on me. “I’m not comfortable with this. You need to follow my advice. This has escalated far beyond a simple bodyguard engagement.”
“I employed you for an open-ended contract … for the duration. I can end it only with a trip to Carson City.” I tried my own hard look. “You need to be flexible.”
“Foolish clients jeopardize my reputation.” He made a sideways motion with his head toward the door and said, “If you’ll excuse us a moment, I want to talk to my men.”
I let them file out, but just before McAllen stepped out, I touched his elbow. “A moment please … alone.”
He looked ready to ignore my request but then hesitated in the open doorway. I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “I know this is a difficult assignment; that’s why I hired the best. If you see this through, I’ll pay each of your men a bonus of one hundred dollars, and two hundred to you.”
“And if you’re killed?”
“No bonus.”
Without a further word, he left to join his men. When I turned around, Richard looked worried. “Steve, what will ya do if they quit?”
“Raise the bonus.”
He shook his head. “Then why didn’t ya offer more right from the start?”
I thought about that a moment and said, “Habit, I guess.”
“Ya need new habits.” After I laughed at his quip, he added, “When do ya plan on leaving for Carson City?”
“Today.”
“I guess speed is important.” Richard sat back down. “Ya might have trouble convincing Bradshaw. Do ya intend to get a letter of introduction from Jeff?”
“I have something better in mind.”
Just then, Captain McAllen returned alone. “Will you put the bonus in writing?”
“Of course.”
“Then you have your team of Pinkertons.”
“Excellent. Would you accompany me over to the general store? I need to talk to someone, and you should hear our conversation.”
“First, can we get my men situated in a hotel? We rode hard.”
“The man I need to see may leave, but I have three rooms ready for you at the Grand Hotel. Your men can settle in while we talk.”
“Are you at the same hotel?”
“There’s only one.”
“Tell me the layout.”
“It’s a two-story hotel, and I have the front room on the second floor. Staircase at the rear, with access to the back of the building.”
“I want one room on the first floor next to the staircase. Two or three rooms upstairs, with a private one for me, preferably next to yours. Can we board up the rear door?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. I own half the hotel, and the other owner is out of town. One of the three rooms is next to mine, but the hotel is full. If you want a private room, three of your men will need to share.”
McAllen made a dismissive gesture. “They’re used to that, but I may have further requests after I see the building.”
“Fine, but I don’t want to miss this man. You and I had best get across the street.”
Without a further word, Captain McAllen turned and walked out of the bank. After he had given instructions to his men, he took me by the elbow and said, “Always walk on my left and stay close to me.”
With that, he snapped his fingers, and one of the men tossed him a rifle, which he caught effortlessly, checking the breech to make sure a round was chambered.
“Let’s go.”
Chapter 17
The relief I felt stepping inside Jeremiah’s store surprised me. Even with McAllen and another Pinkerton beside me, I felt my body relax as we moved to the safety of shelter. It occurred to me that my patina of bravery might be thinner than I was ready to admit.
At first glance, I did not see Jeff Sharp, because my attention centered on Jeremiah. He stood at the counter, helping a woman who looked worn out, even though she was probably only in her thirties. I was wondering how I could reestablish my friendship with my old whist partner when, to my surprise, Captain McAllen asked, “Are you here to talk to Jeff Sharp?”
I spotted Jeff sitting on the far side of the potbelly stove, reading what looked like a legal document. “Yes. Do you know him?”
“We’ve run into each other a few times.”
“Professional or social?”
McAllen lowered the rifle and held it by the stock, close to his thigh. “Both.” When he walked directly over to Sharp, I guessed that McAllen’s friends did not describe him as a talkative sort.
“Afternoon, Jeff.”
Sharp looked up from the papers in which he had been absorbed and immediately smiled. “Joseph.” Sharp plopped the document on the next chair and stood to shake hands. “I’m glad to see you pulled this duty.” Turning to me, he added, “You’re in good hands.”
Before thinking, I blurted, “If you knew Captain McAllen, why didn’t you suggest him when you recommended Pinkertons?”
“I didn’t want ya to wait if he was otherwise employed.” Sharp picked up his papers and motioned for us to take a seat. “But providence is on your side. You got the best.”
I sat, a little irritated, because I made it a practice to always hire the best, which is difficult enough without friends withholding information. I gave Jeff a discourteous look and then asked, “Have you heard about Bolton?”
“No.” I had Sharp’s attention.
“He was shot from long range at his ranch.”
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
Sharp turned toward McAllen. “Washburn hired Sprague. Do ya know him?”
“I’ve made his acquaintance. Most hired killers have a short career. Sprague has been at his profession for as long as I can remember.”
“Which means he’s careful an’ methodical.” Sharp hooked his thumb toward me. “How do ya intend to protect my friend?”
“With difficulty. He’s intent on going to Carson City.”
This brought Sharp’s attention back to me. “Why?”
“We need the power of the governor to thwart Washburn. With Bolton dead, we need another candidate.”
“Who?”
“A man I think you know … Charles Bradshaw.”
Sharp ignored the name. “Why don’t ya try for a warrant against Washburn? Accomplice to murder. McAllen an’ his men can help arrest him.”
“With what evidence?”
Sharp traded glances with each of us. “All right, but travelin’ to Carson City is dangerous, even with McAllen’s crew to watch over ya.” Sharp folded his hands and leaned forward until they rested on his knees. “To get to Washburn, we need to capture Sprague alive an’ make him talk.”
“You really believe he’d testify against a client?” I asked.
I let Sharp think that one through. Finally, he said, “Bradshaw would be a good choice, but I don’t think he’ll run. He prefers to buy politicians.”
The conversation had come around to where I wanted it faster than I expected. “That’s why I want you to come with us. You know Bradshaw; I don’t. You might convince him.”
Instead of an argument, Sharp simply said, “When do ya leave?”
I thought about that. I had wanted to leave immediately, but we wouldn’t make much progress before dark. “First light. Captain McAllen’s team needs a night’s rest.”
“I don’t think movin’ out into the open is such a good idea, but ya can’t sit here an’ wait to get shot from a hundred yards away.” Sharp picked up his papers and waved them at me. “You’re in luck. I need to see my lawyer, an’ he’s in Carson City.” Sharp stood. “Pick me up at my place. I need to pack some gear, an’ I’m along the way. I’ll have breakfast ready for ya.”
I stood as well. “I understand Bolton’s place is less than a half-day’s ride off the path to Carson City.”
“Six to eight hours if you count both ways.”
“I want to stop there.”
“Why?” Sharp’s expression told me he thought he already knew the answer.
“To get the facts straight on his murder.” I hesitated. “And I want to see if Jenny needs anything.”
Sharp cocked an eyebrow. “Like a bag of sugar?”
“No. Like help with the ranch hands or financial matters.” The exchange embarrassed me. “I am a banker,” I added and immediately regretted the weak excuse.
Sharp grinned at my discomfort. “Sure ya don’t want us to ride an extra eight hours just so ya can tip your hat to the pretty lady?”
With a no nonsense tone, McAllen said, “We ride straight to Carson City.”
I looked down on the captain, who had remained seated. “Captain McAllen, as long as you are in my employ, you’ll ride in the direction I pull my reins. This entire trip got started on the news that Bolton was murdered. I want to know exactly what happened.”
“Steve’s right. At least about that,” Sharp said. “We need facts before we blow smoke in Carson City. It’s not that far outta the way, and if Sprague was involved, he’ll not be hangin’ around the ranch.”
Sharp started to leave, but McAllen stood and put his hand on Sharp’s arm to stall his exit. “Mr. Dancy wants only one of my men to join us.”
Sharp looked surprised. “How many did you bring?”
“Six, including myself.”
“I want Captain McAllen’s men to protect Richard and the others,” I said. “It’s a gamble, but I don’t think Sprague will know we left until it’s too late to follow.”
“I see your point.” Sharp folded his papers and stuck them in his pocket. “Steve, I admire your loyalty, but Washburn won’t bother your friends. There’s already been too much killing to explain away. My advice is to leave just two Pinkertons. Two more should come with us to ride ahead and check out the terrain.” Sharp gave me an intense stare. “If Sprague has another target, it’s you.”
I glanced over at Jeremiah, who was studiously ignoring us. “Two men to protect three seems foolish.”
“Doc and Jeremiah are safe. If Washburn wants to quiet anything, it’ll be the newspaper.”
That made sense, and a couple of trail-savvy Pinkertons could scout ahead of us for places where Sprague might set up an ambush. “All right.” I turned to McAllen. “Is that acceptable to you?”
“Barely, but don’t tell me my business again, or you’ll see my backside as I ride away.” He looked me up and down. “Right now, I want you to come over to the hotel and exchange clothes with one of my men.”
“You want to disguise me as a Pinkerton? One of your men would do that?”
“They do what I tell ’em.”
I did not like someone else possibly taking a bullet for me, but I saw it made sense, at least from Captain McAllen’s perspective. Sprague probably had only a rough description of me, and from a distance, he would aim at the rider not dressed in Pinkerton black. I wondered what kind of man would willingly disguise himself as the target of a committed killer. Someone braver than me.
“What about Jeff?” I asked.
“Jeff’s bigger and older and known throughout the state. Sprague won’t make that mistake. And he may not mistake my man for you. There is a risk. To make this masquerade look real, you’ll have to ride on the outside of my man.”
Jeff jumped into the conversation. “Steve, listen to the captain. This is how he makes his living.”
My eyes never left McAllen. “What happens to his bonus if he gets killed?”
“I’ll ask him before we leave, but that’s not your concern.”
“All right.” I nodded. “At least for the trip there. We’ll discuss this again prior to our return.”
“Of course. Our arrangement can be terminated at any time.”
Captain McAllen had made his point. I could decide what we did, but he would dictate how it would be done—or he would ride off, taking with him the only protection I could count on within hundreds of miles. I knew I would acquiesce. I had, after all, hired professionals for a reason.
Chapter 18
I had one piece of business to settle before I could leave Pickhandle Gulch. No one had responded to my “Bank Teller Needed” sign, and I needed someone to take care of the bank while I was gone.
During my discussion with Sharp and McAllen, Jeremiah had studiously ignored us and kept himself busy adjusting bolts of cloth that were already perfectly arranged. After Sharp left, I told McAllen I had personal business with the store proprietor and that he should go over to the hotel and take care of his men. He swung his rifle up across his chest and said he and his man would wait for me outside.
When I looked around, I saw Jeremiah on a small ladder, facing his merchandise shelves. I walked noisily over to a point where I was sure he could see me from the corner of his eye, but he continued to pretend to be absorbed in his task.
“Jeremiah?” I said.
Without stopping or turning around, he asked, “What can I do for ya?”
“How about climbing down off that ladder and serving me one of your awful cups of coffee?”
“Steve, I’d like to, but I got a lot to do today. Perhaps another time.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Another day.”
“The store’s empty. Come on down.” He hesitated, so I added, “For Christ’s sake, Jeremiah, I need your help … please.”
“With what?” My request must have made him nervous, because his voice pitched up an octave.
“I’m not going to talk to your back, especially not the part you’re putting in my face right now.”
Jeremiah threw me a wary look and began to climb down. His weight made him clumsy, so even though he had only three rungs to descend, he held onto a shelf to steady his cautious steps. Without hesitation or comment, he disappeared into the back room, reappearing a few moments later with two heavy porcelain coffee cups. We both took our customary chairs around the potbelly stove, and I accepted the proffered cup. The tepid coffee tasted horrible, but I was so grateful for the gesture, I didn’t make any of my customary smart-aleck remarks.
Jeremiah looked anxious, so I decided to jump right in and make this as short as possible. “I’m leaving for Carson City in the morning. The trip has to do with bringing this business to a close.” Jeremiah gave me a blank expression, so again I went right to the point. “I need someone to watch the bank for me.”
“What? You’re askin’ me? I have a store to run.”
“You have Jemmy and that man who comes in on weekends. If you could keep the bank open for an hour or so in the morning and two hours in the late afternoon when the miners get off, that should do it. Maybe put a sign out that says you’ll make transactions for fewer than twenty dollars here at the store.”
“I can’t leave the store for hours at
a time. Jemmy only watches things when I go to the privy or sell ice out back.”
“What about your weekend man?”
“He’s a prospector. He comes in from the field only to keep himself in supplies. He’d never stay in town during the week.”
“If he helps you run the store for two weeks, I’ll pay him enough to buy three month’s worth of supplies.”
“How do ya know you’ll be gone for only two weeks?” Jeremiah went to the counter for one of his gingersnaps; then grabbed three. He snapped off half a cookie into his mouth and followed it with a big swig of lukewarm coffee. “How do ya know ya won’t be gone permanent?”
I ignored the way he’d said permanent, as if I might be dead. “I’ll find someone to run the bank in Carson City, and I’ll dispatch him immediately. Should be here in well under two weeks. In the meantime, I need your help.”
Jeremiah looked pained. “I can’t.”
I forced myself to sip his lousy coffee. “Are you afraid of Washburn?”
“Of course. The two of ya are in a feud. I want no part of it.” He gobbled the remainder of his gingersnap and continued to talk with a full mouth. “If Washburn has ya killed, I might get stuck taking care of your damn bank. And for what?”
“I’ll make sure you don’t get stuck. In case Sprague gets lucky, I’ll put in writing that you get full ownership of the bank on my death.” I could see that the offer softened his resistance, so I added, “Do you really think Washburn will allow you to continue raking off so much of the mines’ profits with this store? That man wants it all, including what’s yours.”
When Jeremiah just sat there looking worried, I added, “You already pay the sheriff. Soon you’ll no longer be a shop owner, just a clerk in someone else’s store.”
“You know about the payoffs to the sheriff?”
“You do business in this town, don’t you?” Actually it had been a reasoned guess.
Jeremiah shook his head. “Ya don’t know the half of it. I’ve sacrificed a lot to do business in this town.”
“I know you hide most of your money in the icehouse.”
Jeremiah sat bolt upright like a man stuck with a hatpin. “What? How do ya know that? Who else knows?”
The Shopkeeper Page 7
