The Shopkeeper

by James D. Best

  I finished the meal in less than five minutes and then lazily wandered toward the bunkhouse with my empty tin plate in the hope of catching Jenny. As I approached the raw-lumber building, a cowhand placed his body in front of the open doorway. He pointed. “Just throw your plate in that bucket.”

  “Fine meal. Thank you.”

  “Thank Mrs. Bolton.”

  “I will. Is Jenny inside?”

  “What business is it of yours?”

  “I’d like to offer her my condolences.”

  “She don’t look to be grievin’. Besides, she’s busy.”

  “It’ll only take a moment. I had business dealings with her husband.”

  “You can see her after Mrs. Bolton gives the go-ahead.”

  Obviously, I was not going to gain entry without a confrontation, so I flung my plate into the wooden bucket with a loud clank and turned toward the ranch house. As I turned, I noticed that a few men had spread out behind me, but McAllen and the others kept them in check with postures and expressions that told them to be careful. I felt a little more confident knowing someone watched my back.

  I tried to figure out Mrs. Bolton’s motivation. It had to be more than personal animosity. My mind raced as I marched toward the ranch house, but I came up with no solution that did not involve gunplay. And I could not be sure McAllen and his men would back me up, damsels in distress being outside our contract and all.

  “May I have a word?” I turned to see McAllen striding in my direction. I slowed my pace to let him catch up, but I did not quit walking. He put a hand on my elbow to stop my progress. “What are your intentions?”

  “I’m going to see that fat witch.”

  “Don’t rile these men.”

  “I’m going to negotiate with her, not shoot her.”

  “What if she won’t answer the door?”

  I suddenly knew my strategy. “She’ll talk to me.”

  McAllen looked at me a long moment and then said, “My obligations go only so far.”

  “I understand. There’ll be no trouble.”

  With no further comment, McAllen walked away, but he still made a show of pointing to his men and giving them some type of hand signal. The Pinkertons casually moved to all points of the compass. His obligations may have gone only so far, but he seemed to be still on the job. On second thought, he may have been concerned only about the safety of his own men in case I had misled him about not causing trouble.

  As I approached the house, a ranch hand armed with a rifle got up from a chair and stood in front of the door. Without stepping up to the porch, I said, “Tell Mrs. Bolton she needs to talk to me if she wants to retain ownership of this ranch.”

  “She asked not to be disturbed.”

  “Disturb her. This is not about Jenny. It’s about business I had with her son.”

  He looked puzzled but turned and entered the house without knocking. After a few minutes, he returned and waved me in with his rifle. “I’m to accompany you.”

  Without comment, I mounted the steps and entered the house. Her man walked so close behind me that I thought he was going to poke me in the back with his rifle barrel. I hesitated in the central hall, and he said, “To the left.”

  The sitting room was obviously decorated by a woman. The flowery fabrics were accented with more knickknacks than could comfortably fit on the flat surfaces. Mrs. Bolton sat in an overstuffed easy chair, holding a china teacup and saucer with both hands. Her bulk seemed to overwhelm the dainty room. She took a purposeful sip and then indicated a straight-backed ladder chair to her right.

  I sat with the full knowledge that no refreshment would be offered. “Thank you for seeing me.”

  “Get to your business. My hands have work to do.”

  I bet that she was highly displeased that her men had just stood around looking threatening since our arrival. “I apologize for the intrusion, ma’am. We’ll be on our way soon.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the rifle-bearing overseer. “Do you have complete confidence in this man?”

  Holding the teacup by the saucer, she ordered. “Speak your mind.”

  “I want to talk about John’s last will and testament.”

  The rattle of the cup in the saucer told me I had hit the mark. “What will?”

  “John filed a will in Carson City leaving his possessions to Jenny.”

  Another rattle. “This was my husband’s homestead. I built this ranch while John played politics in Carson City. That bitch ain’t taking it away from me.”

  “She has the law on her side.” I shrugged. “John seems to have been smitten with the girl.”

  She waved her man away and did not speak again until after she heard the front door close. “I don’t believe you.”

  “That he was smitten or that there’s a will?”

  She set her teacup down on a doily-covered side table. “My son and I had words about that little harlot, but I don’t believe he’d spite me like this. I’m his mother for Christ’s sake.”

  “Lust drives men to do foolish things. You know that John considered Jenny his most prized possession.”

  “Possession, not heir,” she threw the words back at me like they were bullets.

  “Nonetheless, he decided to bequeath everything to her. Perhaps his anger with you was greater than you knew.”

  “Oh, I knew. That slut ruined my life.” She grew quiet, and I could see her mind working. “You said you could save the ranch for me.”

  “For a price.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “I’ll trade you John’s last will and testament for Jenny and some money.”

  “How much money?”

  “Don’t know yet. Depends on how much I need to bribe the lawyer. He’ll be breaking the law, so I don’t suppose it’ll come cheap … probably about a thousand dollars for him and another thousand for my troubles.”

  “If you want Jenny so bad, you cover the bribe.”

  “I don’t want Jenny; I just want to see her clear of this place.”

  “You’re a liar. You want her to come with you, and you don’t want no ranch weighing her down.”

  I decided her accusation worked to my advantage, so I let it go. “Let me make this clear: I do the work; you pay. But it’s got to be done fast, before the will gets filed in front of a judge in Carson City.”

  She thought about it a minute. “You bring me a last will and testament with my son’s signature, like you say, and I’ll pay one thousand dollars. You cover anything more.”

  I pretended to think a minute. “One other condition: you bring Jenny back into the house until my return.”

  “I figured that, but if you’re lying, Jenny will regret the day she was born.”

  “Have the thousand dollars ready on my return in a couple of days.” I waited a couple of beats. “I won’t insist on silver.”

  She suddenly looked smug. “I’ll write a draft against your own bank.”

  “No.” I couldn’t let her get the upper hand. “On second thought, give me a draft now against your son’s Carson City bank. I’ll need it for the lawyer.”

  For some reason, my request caused her to laugh uproariously. When she quieted, she said, “You’ve got to be mad if you think I’d trust a thousand dollars in your hands before I get the will.” She smiled and picked up her tea again. “The draft will be against your bank and only after you bring me the will … or no deal.”

  Knowing she had to believe she outfoxed me, I said, “Agreed. Now I want to see Jenny.”

  “Why?”

  “I want her to know about our arrangement.”

  “She’s not to know about the will.”

  “I’ll just tell her I’m conducting some business for you.”

  “’Fraid I’ll throw her back in the bunkhouse as soon as you leave?”

  “Yes.”

  This incited another laughing spell. “Very well. Tell my man to fetch her.”

  Chapter 24

  I rose from my chair a
s Jenny entered the room and almost gasped. She wore a filthy calico dress with a torn collar that showed sweat stains, and her matted hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in months. She wore no shoes, and it appeared from the drape of her dress that she also wore no underclothing. She did wear a pained expression caused by the tight grip on her upper arm.

  I caught the eye of Mrs. Bolton’s man and said, “Let her go.”

  The man shifted his gaze to Mrs. Bolton and evidently received a signal, because he let go of her. As Jenny rubbed her arm, her pained expression was replaced with a look of defiance.

  “You may go,” Mrs. Bolton said, and the man backed out of the room.

  Since there were no other chairs close by, I stood and said, “Please take a seat.”

  Jenny straightened her posture and said, “I’d rather stand.”

  I was not going to argue, so I remained standing as well. “Mrs. Bolton has some business she would like me to conduct for her in Carson City. I agreed on the condition that you are allowed back into the house.”

  Jenny shifted her gaze from me to Mrs. Bolton. “No, thank you. The company’s better in the bunkhouse.”

  Her answer shocked me. “No one will bother you here.”

  “No one bothers me none in the bunkhouse.” She lifted her chin and threw a nasty stare at both of us. “I get along just fine with the hands.”

  Mrs. Bolton started laughing again. “My dear, I’m heartened to hear that you get on so well with the boys.”

  Jenny took a half-step toward Mrs. Bolton and checked herself. I was caught between two hellions determined to give no quarter. What a history this house must have witnessed. Now I understood why Bolton took Jenny with him whenever he left the ranch—not only for her company but to shield her from his mother’s talons. If he had left her at the ranch, there was no telling what he would have found on his return.

  I racked my brain to think of a way to negotiate a truce, but I could think of nothing that would move either of the women. Finally, I turned to Mrs. Bolton and asked, “May I see Jenny alone?”

  “You may not,” Mrs. Bolton said.

  Jenny turned a scornful look at me. “Have you come to rescue me?” She used a mocking tone that made me feel stupid.

  “I came to discover the facts around John Bolton’s murder. I understand you witnessed it.”

  “Yes, but there’s nothing to tell, really. I was standing about five feet from him when his brains got spattered all over the ranch house wall. I didn’t even hear the shot until after.”

  “Did you see who shot him?”

  “Were you not listening? I said I didn’t hear the shot until afterwards. The killer was far away.”

  She made me feel stupid again, so I pressed on in a different direction. “Was Mr. Bolton on the front porch?”

  “Yes. My husband was enjoying a cigar and a recess from his mother’s henpecking.”

  Mrs. Bolton smiled sweetly. “Tell Mr. Dancy what we were arguing about, dear.”

  Her comment started an unsightly staring contest. Jenny looked like a hellcat ready to pounce, while Mrs. Bolton just stared back like an ill-tempered Caesar. I watched the competition for a minute and then said, “Can I trust you two ladies alone for a minute? I need to talk to Captain McAllen.”

  Mrs. Bolton broke the duel and gave me her too-cute smile. “We’ll both be right here upon your return … but don’t dally.”

  I walked quickly outside and found McAllen and Sharp still at the bench where we had eaten our lavish meal. Walking over to them, I noticed my admittance to the house had lessened tensions considerably. Men on both sides stood wary, but their relaxed postures told me that they thought a peaceful settlement was in the offing.

  McAllen and Sharp stood as I approached. “Bolton was on the front porch when he was shot. The rifle report took over a second to reach the house.”

  Both men took a sight line from the porch to the horizon. McAllen said, “Things look calm. I’ll take a look, but Sprague’s careful. Probably picks up his cartridge casing.”

  “Have you talked to Bolton’s men about the shooting?”

  “They didn’t look none too friendly,” Sharp said.

  I waved over the man who had let me into the house. He hesitated a second but then approached us. As he walked over, he raised a hand, telling the other men to stay put.

  “Yep?” He worked hard to appear unruffled.

  “I assume you’re the foreman,” I said.

  “I am.”

  “Did you or any of your men see Mr. Bolton get shot?”

  “Nope.”

  “Did you search over there?” I waved my hand in the general direction where the shot must have come from.

  “I took a look. Found an impression in a swale where the killer laid down. Over a hundred and fifty yards. Damn fine shot, if you’ll excuse me for sayin’ so.”

  “Any cartridge casings?” Captain McAllen asked.

  “Didn’t see any, but I coulda missed somethin’. Why’s that important?”

  “Sprague carries a Remington Creedmoor, which uses a .44-100 cartridge. Odd casing and not common hereabouts.”

  “Sprague?” The foreman took off his hat and wiped his brow. “Goddamn.”

  “Not sure, but a cartridge would sure help us figure out what we’re dealing with.”

  “Well, hell. Come along, and I’ll show ya where he was shot from. Maybe we can find somethin’.”

  “Much obliged, but could I have a word with Mr. Dancy first?” McAllen jerked his thumb in my direction.

  “I’ll be over there, keepin’ an eye on the both of ya.” The comradeship that had evolved during our conversation seemed suddenly revoked.

  After the foreman had retaken his position on the porch, McAllen asked, “What’s going on in there?”

  I grinned. “A catfight.”

  “The two gentlewomen givin’ ya a bit of trouble, are they?” Sharp seemed amused.

  “Jenny says she’d rather service the whole bunkhouse than stay a single night with the resident witch.”

  “You got her back into the house?” McAllen asked incredulous.

  “I got Mrs. Bolton’s permission for her to return, but Jenny’s acting as defiant as a mule. I left to give her time to think through the alternatives.”

  “How’d you get the old battleaxe to change her tune?” McAllen asked.

  “With a less-than-truthful bluff. But let’s leave that for the trail. I want to get back inside to see if Jenny’s come to her senses.”

  “What if she hasn’t?”

  “Then I guess we ride hard and get back as soon as we can.”

  Sharp asked, “Do ya think things are settled down enough for me to accompany McAllen an’ the foreman?”

  McAllen answered. “If there’s a cartridge out there, I’ll find it.”

  “I’m a miner. I know how to spot things in rocks.”

  McAllen looked around. “All right. I think we’ve passed any crisis here. I also want to find the spot where he tethered his horse. Might not have been as careful there.” McAllen returned his attention to me. “We might be awhile.”

  “Don’t be too long,” I said. “I want to make headway toward Carson City before dark.”

  With our tasks defined, we went our separate ways. I hoped Jenny had softened her attitude, because I hated to think of her in the bunkhouse for several more nights. As I reentered the frilly parlor, both women were seated with their hands folded in their laps. A good sign, I hoped.

  “Your foreman volunteered to show Captain McAllen the spot where the assassin positioned himself for the shot. We want to search the area for the cartridge casing. That’ll help prove who killed him.”

  In a tone that did not invite debate, the senior Mrs. Bolton said, “Sean Washburn killed my son.”

  “No doubt he hired the man who did it, but we need proof to call in the law.”

  She gave me one of her I’m not evil smiles. “You’re handy with a gun. If you’re so
interested in playing the champion, revenge my son.”

  “Mrs. Bolton, if I get the opportunity, I will. But so far, I’ve never even met Washburn.”

  “He’s a huge, pompous brute with flowing gray hair. You can’t mistake him.”

  “Gray hair?” I had assumed he was younger.

  “He turned gray early and decided to make it an asset. He likes his hair to billow out behind him when he rides.”

  “Sounds vain.”

  “A vainer man you cannot find. He wears gray suits and rides a gray horse that stands at least fifteen hands. He makes quite a picture.”

  “I shall keep an eye out for him.” I turned to Jenny. “Have you reconsidered?”

  “Yes. Mrs. Bolton bribed me.”

  I was suddenly wary. “With what?”

  “A hot bath, my personal effects, and a promise that you’ll take me to a stagecoach stop on your return.”

  I looked at the matron, and she actually winked at me. I supposed she had decided to treat Jenny with a little deference because my mission in Carson City might fail. If Jenny got hold of the ranch, Mrs. Bolton would probably find the bunkhouse under-decorated. I tried to make my voice firm when I said, “I think she should add travel money to the offer.”

  “My personal effects include a few items that will bring a good price. I don’t want her money. Only what’s mine.”

  “Very well. I’ll tell the men to saddle up, and we’ll be on our way.”

  I started to leave, but Jenny stopped me with a question. “What do you want for your heroic efforts?”

  This surprised me, and I could only stammer, “Nothing. What do you mean?”

  “I see the way you look at me. I’m beholden, but you may only lie with me once.”

  “That’s … you’ve misunderstood my intentions.”

  “Don’t act so innocent. I know why you did this. When I get to Carson City, I’m starting a new life, and I’ll not be leaving behind debts.”

  I was flabbergasted. She spoke so casually about something so intimate. Then I realized she had probably never experienced intimacy. “You are not in my debt, and if you were, I wouldn’t accept payment in that fashion.”