by J. Lee Butts
At breakfast the next morning I said, “Missy, I’d like you to show me around Dallas. Maybe we can take a buggy ride. There’s one place in particular I want to visit. Believe it’s called Gertie’s.”
She exploded. “Gertie’s? Why would you want to go anywhere near that nasty dump?” Her syrupy Louisiana accent got more pronounced with her anger.
“The only reason I’m here is because of that ‘nasty’ dump and two girls named Hunter.”
She sat with her butter knife in her hand like she intended to use it to remove a valuable part of my body. “Sally and Susan Hunter? Those twin whores? Why do you want to see them?” Then she slapped butter on her biscuit so hard it crumbled into pieces.
“The man who butchered my family visited them recently. I have to talk to them. If he’s still in town, he’ll either go back to Judge Parker for trial or die where he stands. But if he’s already gone, I want to know where and how long ago.” Pulled on the leather coat Elizabeth sold me, and buckled my pistol belt around my waist.
She didn’t move from her chair. Her voice could’ve cut glass. “Clarise! Clarise, come in here.”
A beautiful black girl who couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen floated into the room and did a curtsy behind her employer. “Yes, Miss Talbot.”
Missy locked eyes with me and never looked away. “Tell Samson to bring the carriage around front. Mr. Tilden would like to take in some fresh air.”
The fiery mistress of the Empress Hotel owned the finest open coach in Dallas. Its highly polished brass fittings and black paint sparkled in the morning sunlight.
A Negro man, every inch of six and a half feet tall, met us at the front door and helped Missy into her seat. He wore a glistening white shirt, black tie, red swallow-tailed coat and stovepipe hat. His right hand slid under my arm and almost lifted me off the ground and into my place next to his employer. “Let me cover your legs with this blanket, sir. It’s a bit chilly this mornin’.” He smiled and smoothed the wrap over our legs before climbing into his seat.
Missy gave directions and Samson took us on a tour. She impressed me with her knowledge of the history of each building.
A short distance from the Empress she said, “That big red thing is the courthouse. The old brick one was torn down in ’seventy-one, and they built that hideous thing. Just can’t imagine what the city fathers were thinking.” She stared at the building as we circled it and mumbled, “I just loved the old one.”
Businesses in the center of town looked solid. Many gave the appearance of bricked permanence and a great deal of money.
Missy pointed out a group of workers clearing a plot of land. “Unfortunately, I can’t show you our most prominent concern. The distillery burned recently and is only now being rebuilt.”
Naturally, the ride impressed me. I’d never been to a town of such size. “Most people believe that when they take the next census, Dallas will have a population of more than ten thousand,” she bragged.
She even tried to extend the trip by stopping at a dry goods store, where she bought me a suit of clothes. “The Sanger brothers own this wonderful store. If you can’t find what you want at Sanger Brothers, you don’t need it,” she said. Samson held the door, and she swept past like a queen.
She smiled as I paraded in front of the mirror. “Why, Marshal Tilden, how dapper you look. I could easily mistake you for an eastern-educated lawyer or banker.”
From Sanger Brothers, we went directly to the Trinity River district where Gertie’s was located. “We’re right on the edge of Deep Ellum,” Missy whispered, “but we don’t want to go there. It’s dangerous day or night.”
A dirt road led us through a neighborhood of large houses. Samson reined us to a stop at a corner across from a neat building that gave the appearance of an old southern mansion somewhere in the cotton kingdom of the Mississippi delta.
Missy pushed the blanket off her legs and twisted in the seat as she pointed toward the doorway. “Just past the vestibule, on your right, will be a bar. There are tables for poker in a large room on the left. It’s traditionally used as a waiting area for the patrons who wish to socialize before, and after, their visits with the girls.”
She’d just finished speaking when a door that led onto the balcony over the front of the house opened. A tall and very young-looking girl with flaming red hair stepped outside. She snuggled deeper into a dark blue robe, hugged her arms close against the nippy wind, and turned slightly as an exact duplicate appeared by her side. They stood with their heads back, breathing in the cool winter air. For a moment I heard laughter. Then they disappeared.
“Those were the Hunter twins—every man’s wildest dreams in the flesh. There’s nothing—and no one—they won’t do. So long as the price is right.” She squeezed my arm and locked me in her gaze. “They don’t work alone. They have an assistant who looks over them. His name is Carter Caine. He’s not a man to be trifled with. Quite possibly you’ll never see him. But rest assured, he’s always nearby. Not much over five feet tall, he’s strong as a bull and can carve a man up like a trussed turkey. I’m told he carries a pair of razor-sharp bowie knives, and, in close quarters, is more deadly than any gunman—a very dangerous man, Hayden, and completely devoted to those girls. They pay him handsomely to insure their safety. No matter how private a man might think his dalliances with the Hunter girls are, you can rest assured Carter Caine watches.” She told me all that in the manner of a woman telling a close friend how to bake an apple pie.
I stepped down from the rig and pushed the door shut. “Missy, the man I’m here for is called Saginaw Bob Magruder. Felt no need to tell you his name till now, because I never expected his trail to lead me here.”
“I’ve heard the name, but haven’t met the man,” she said. “Be careful of Gertrude Yarbrough, Hayden: she’s a sneaky old hag and can be just as dangerous as Carter Caine. Also, should you come upon any of the Dallas constabulary—avoid any contact with them. They’ve been on a rip ever since Ben Long tried to run all the riffraff out of town back in ’seventy-three. They can be a difficult bunch to deal with. Samson and I’ll wait here. Just in case you need us.”
The Negro driver tipped his hat and smiled. “If’n you require assistance, sir, jest call out. Samson’ll be there double-quick.”
I could feel Missy’s eyes on my back as I crossed the street. Stopped at the heavy red door to Gertie’s house and adjusted my pistol belt. Looked back at the carriage as I turned the knob. Missy leaned forward, hid her mouth with her hand, and said something to Samson.
Walked into that place at a quiet time of the day. Business wouldn’t get perking for about another three hours or so. Everything looked exactly the way Missy had described it, except that it wasn’t the nasty dump she’d claimed—quite the contrary. Floors were clean, the Persian rugs new, and the furniture highly polished.
Took a stool at the bar. No piano or other music. No loud talk or laughter like you’d expect in a saloon. A soapy pine or cedar smell hung in the air and almost covered up the odors of tobacco and liquor.
A woman, dressed in something black that sparkled like fireworks, lumbered in from the poker room and pointed her enormous bulk in my direction. A glass of whiskey, delivered by a surly-looking bartender, went untouched near my right hand. She stopped in front of me and blocked off my view of the room. Given her size, I figured it possible for her to blot out most of the light coming from outside.
“Good day to you, young sir. I’m Gertie Yarbrough. This here is my place. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of makin’ yore acquaintance.” More like a man’s than a woman’s, her voice sounded like a crosscut saw going through a piece of rough-cut pine.
Removed my hat and nodded. “Deputy U.S. Marshal Hayden Tilden of Fort Smith. I’m an officer of the court of Judge Isaac Parker and am here on official business, Miss Gertie.”
She took the hand I offered and shook it. The heavily painted face twisted itself into a smile, but I could t
ell she was leery of any stranger carrying a badge—good manners or otherwise.
“Well, I hope we can be of some help to you, Mr. Tilden. If I might ask, exactly what be your business?” She tilted her head and looked at me like she’d found a bug in her food.
“I have a warrant for the arrest of a man called Saginaw Bob Magruder. Informants tell me he was last seen here in the company of two girls named Hunter. I’d like to speak with them, if possible, or if you know the whereabouts of Saginaw Bob, you can direct me to him.”
The woman began making eye signals at the bartender behind me. Unbuttoned my coat. Exposed the heavy badge attached to my new vest and the matched pair of pistols at my waist.
Her eyes narrowed and made more signals at the barman. I turned slightly on the stool. The move made it possible to watch both of them. Placed my right hand on the butt of the pistol on my hip and dangled my left against the one resting across my belly.
I hadn’t cared for the sullen look of the barman since I first took a seat. I pointed to a spot farthest from me and said, “Mister, I’d like you to go to the end of the counter, place your hands where I can see them, and don’t move.”
When he’d taken the spot at the opposite end of his highly polished bar, I turned my full attention on the gigantic mound of powder and paint that jiggled a few feet away. She might have been old, but she was as big as a skinned mule and probably armed to the teeth under all those black sparkles.
“Make no mistake about this, Miss Gertie, I’m as serious as smallpox when I tell you that if anyone, including you, tries to hinder my search for Magruder, I won’t hesitate to defend myself.”
She backed away when she realized her bulk and the implied threat of violence from her liquor-pouring bodyguard weren’t having the desired effect. “I’ve supplied men with whatever they’ve wanted for over thirty years, Marshal Tilden. Always prided myself on bein’ able to read a man by his eyes. I see death in yours, sir. You have a way of makin’ a person feel like beef hangin’ on a hook.”
“Is Saginaw Bob Magruder in this house, Miss Gertie? Before you answer, be aware that I don’t respond well to liars.” Did a deferential little bow in an effort to try and smooth that jab over a bit. Didn’t want to make her mad if I could keep from it. But, she wasn’t having any of it.
“Fine manners ain’t gonna make me like you any better, Marshal.”
“Well, then, I’ll put it another way, old woman. Answer the question.”
She flinched like I’d slapped her. “No. He ain’t here,” she snapped. “You were correct, though. He visited here till ’bout a week past. He likes them Hunter girls and pays top dollar for their affections. Likes to have ’em exclusive, if you know what I mean. Calls every year at about the same time and stays for a month—sometimes two. His visits became more frequent when the Hunter girls came to work here. He’s gone now. I don’t know where.”
“I’d like to speak with the Hunter girls. Assure you I’ll be brief, and will pay for their time if necessary. I’d like your permission, but will speak to them without it.” Smiled and did my little bow again.
“Foller me,” she said as though irritated beyond describing, then turned slowly like a prairie schooner with a broken wheel and led me to the stairway. Made her ponderous way to a door at the end of the hall on the second floor. She knocked lightly, pushed the door open, leaned inside, and said something I couldn’t hear. She stepped aside as I entered and pulled the door closed behind me as she left.
The room covered most of the entire front of the house. It was decorated in the most opulent fashion and had a bed on either side. Matching love seats and mirrors flanked the beds. A bar stood in the middle of the room and sitting on the bed on my right the girls posed fetchingly. They were ’bout as close to naked as you could get, making sure I realized that their hair was truly red. Each had draped a gauzy nightgown over her shoulders and arranged the garment in the most alluring fashion.
With hat in hand, I strode to within a few feet of them. “I’m a deputy U.S. marshal, ladies, and have some questions I need to ask.”
“Do you have a name, Marshal?” asked the girl draped over the right side of the bed.
“Yes,” echoed her duplicate. “Do you have a name?”
“Hayden Tilden at your service, ladies.” Danced from foot to foot in my discomfort. They smiled and winked at one another. “I—I’d be much more comfortable if you’d clothe yourselves, ladies. M-My visit today doesn’t require you to undress.” My face must’ve been redder than a Confederate battle flag. They giggled, pulled the gowns closed, and moved to the bar. I sat on one of the stools. The sisters stood across from me and took turns filling my glass with water as I questioned them.
“Bob left last week,” replied one redhead.
“Yes, he left last week,” said the double.
“Why on earth do you want Bob?”
“He’s such a nice man.”
“We always look forward to his visits. He’s so well behaved and spends so much money.”
“So much money,” giggled her twin.
I tried to nail them in their places with my most intense lawman stare. Quickly told the story of my family’s butchery at Arkansas Post and his gang’s most recent mischief in Texarkana.
“I’m here to arrest Magruder and take him back to Judge Parker for trial. If he should choose not to go along with my plans, I’ll kill him.”
Their behavior changed dramatically. They held one another and seemed genuinely distressed by the things I’d just revealed about one of their favorite gentleman friends.
“My goodness,” said one girl.
“My goodness,” chimed the other.
“When he visited us,” sniffed the first girl, “we all slept in the same bed.”
“Yes, the same bed.”
“I just can’t believe he’s done such horrible things, Marshal Tilden.”
“Such horrible things.”
“Ladies, do you know where he is, and if not, do you know where he went?”
“When Bob left here last week, he said he had business in Kansas, one of those nasty cow towns. But I don’t remember which one. Do you remember where he said he was going, Sally?”
“No, Susan. I can’t recall for sure. One of those busy, dirty ole places where trail drives end.”
“Dodge. He went to Dodge,” said someone behind me.
I turned slowly toward the deep, musical sound. A short, stoutly built man dressed in a suit, brilliant white shirt, red silk tie, and polished boots stood in the corner of the room nearest the window. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Almost like he’d grown up through a crack in the floor. His hair was greased to his head, and he’d waxed his mustache to long points. Carter Caine looked like a man who wouldn’t hesitate to do bodily harm at the least provocation.
He silently strolled to the middle of the room like it belonged to him, not the girls. Took the stool next to me and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
“Magruder wanted to be there when the herds begin to arrive, and he needed a little extra time to establish himself before the rush really hit. He plans to prey on unsuspecting cowboys, when he can. Steal cattle, when he can. Do whatever he wants, when he can.” He smiled, tipped the glass in my direction, and threw the contents down his throat. “I’ve known about Bob for years, but he knew better than to cause problems for the girls when he visited. He understood I wouldn’t take rude behavior well.” The redhead closest to him refilled the glass.
“Mister Caine, I presume.” I held out my hand.
He stared at it for a moment then smiled and grasped it so tightly I thought my knuckles might crack like pecan shells.
“Mr. Tilden, Bob behaved when he visited with us, and I didn’t tell the girls about his past. Such things are my problem. He paid well for his pleasures, and I have no quarrel with him in that respect, but I knew him capable of the darkest kinds of evil, if only a few of the stories I’ve heard are true. Didn’t sleep wel
l when he came to town. If he doesn’t come again, I won’t be displeased.” He grinned and twisted one end of his mustache.
“Can you tell me anything else, sir?”
“Only that he carried considerable cash, which he intended to invest in a year’s worth of poker playing. I’m certain he’ll supplement that with numerous other nefarious schemes.” He sat his glass on the bar and leaned slightly toward me. “If you truly want Saginaw Bob, you’ll have to go to Dodge. My advice is to take your time. He’ll still be there when you arrive.”
I’d heard all I needed to hear. Picked up my hat and bowed toward the Hunter girls, then to their guardian. “I appreciate the information, Mr. Caine.”
As I stood he said, “Mr. Tilden, I do what I do because I can’t abide a man who would harm a woman. I’d not heard of your family’s misfortune. I knew Benny, Azel, and Cecil had been rubbed out in Arkansas, but never heard how or why. If Bob gets back this way I’ll take him for you and hold him till you can come for him. Crimes such as the one you described here today should never go unpunished. But if I were you, sir, I’d be sure no jailer ever got Magruder. He’d probably escape, and the hangman would never see him. Kill him. If you don’t, he’ll likely kill you.”
Shook his hand again. “Thanks for the advice, Mr. Caine. I’ll keep it close to heart.”
“Good luck, young man,” he said as I pulled the door closed behind me.
Started down the stairs and almost walked right up the shins of a Dallas police officer. He guided me back into the bar, where two more waited at a table near the window. One of the men motioned me to the only empty chair. My guide stopped at a spot by the door and blocked off any exit. The barman had resumed his favorite post. I felt he’d stationed himself near whatever weapon he kept there.
I quickly stepped to the end of the glossy counter opposite the site where the bartender stood. The policemen looked surprised and uncomfortable. I’d placed an obstacle between all of them and me.
“I’d prefer to stand if you don’t mind, Officer.” Smiled when I said it, but pulled my jacket back.
