Murder for Greenhorns

by Kresge, Robert

  “What could she say to them that we couldn’t say together?”

  “I’m not sure, but if I know her—and I’ve come to—she’s probably taken all the blame for this business on herself.”

  Monday excused himself and hurried out the door and down the street, toward the brick bank building where the town council would be meeting in that upstairs room. As he got closer, he saw someone sitting on the steps.

  Bull blocked the stairway, whittling. He looked up and grinned. “Morning, Marshal. You a little late, ain’t you? They been talking up there for near an hour now.”

  “Morning, Bull. Miss Kate played a little trick on me. Hope I can still get a word in edgewise, if she ain’t talked their ears off. Let me pass, would you?”

  “Nope, sorry. Can’t do that. Miss Kate told me I should sit here and guard these stairs and not let anybody go up ’til Joe sticks his head out. And I don’t think you can move me, Marshal.”

  “Damn it, Bull. I ain’t the marshal no more, so you can quit calling me that. I don’t reckon I can whip you neither. But I’ve got a gun. Why don’t you just move out of the way?”

  “Well, you could shoot me, but then you’d still have to climb up over my body. I’m pretty fair-sized. That might take you an hour or so. By that time, Joe’ll probably come out and give the signal. Why don’t you just sit with me and wait?” He closed his pocket knife.

  “I thought you were my friend.”

  “I am. But I’m Miss Kate’s friend, too, and I know what she’s trying to do up there is for your own good. So you’re not gonna get up there ’til she wants you. Might as well sit with me.”

  “Miss Kate’s all alone up there.”

  “I know that. But even all alone, she’s got those men outnumbered. I carried her down here from Miz Haskell’s and up these stairs around nine o’clock. Know what she did in return for lifting her sweet self up there? Kissed me. Right here.” He touched his left cheek.

  At that moment, the door at the top of the stairway opened, and Joe looked down. He turned and called back, “Yes, he’s here.” After a moment, he looked at Monday. “You might as well come up, Malone. Guess we’re ready for you.”

  Bull stood up and put out his hand. “Good luck, Marshal.”

  Monday shook it. “I ain’t. . . .” He looked up the stairs and understood what Bull was trying to say. “Thanks, Bull. Would you get Lightning saddled up for me and bring him over here? I got some things to collect from the jail, but I might need to ride out as soon as the council gets done with me. I’ll pay Joe for his keep, soon’s I visit the bank.”

  He climbed the steps as if they were the stairs to a gallows. Joe waited on the landing, fanning himself with his hat.

  “Morning, Joe. Can’t be that hot yet.” The man’s shirt was soaked with perspiration.

  “Wait’ll you get inside.”

  The meeting room was like an oven. All the windows were closed. When Joe reached to close the door, Kate called out, “That’s all right, Mr. Fitch. I feel much better now. Perhaps you could leave the door open.”

  The four council members sat at a table in their shirtsleeves, Kate in front of them. There was an empty seat next to her. Smelled like someone had been baking a cake in here.

  “Appears to me, Mr. Malone, you’re a little late this morning.”

  “Uh, I’m sorry, Doc. I was told you all were meeting at ten.” He glanced at Kate, who didn’t look at him, but fanned herself rapidly. Her profile looked most impressive this morning. She was wearing a dark blue dress with no white lace on it. It sure fitted her tight. The pleasant smell intensified as she fanned herself.

  “Well, I guess it’s all right,” Doc said. “We’ve heard Miss Shaw’s story. Now we’d like to hear yours.” Noah Crandall was ready to take notes. Ike returned from opening windows.

  Monday started with the day he first saw Kate in Laramie, including overhearing her at Dillon’s stable seeking out Marshal Taggart. He recounted their journey and Sam Taggart’s murder on the morning of the third day. He took a while to tell about how he’d investigated the murder in town and by riding to the ranches, farms, and mines. He described the hunt for the man on the big black horse and the various sightings. Joe chimed in because he knew about the rifle shell and horse manure and had been party to some of yesterday’s events. Monday finished in twenty minutes. He wished he had something to drink. A cold beer would be nice.

  “That’s everything, huh?” Doc asked.

  “Yes, sir. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”

  “Well, let’s clarify a couple of points. How much investigating did Miss Shaw do?”

  “Uh, none, Doc,” he said, glancing at Kate, hoping he was answering correctly. “Wouldn’ta been proper. I asked all the questions. I took that trip out of town, and I asked more questions of folks here when I got back.”

  “I suppose you were on to Quincannon early. That’s why you spent a couple evenings talking with him in the saloon.”

  “That’s right. I was on to him early.”

  “Then why the Bejesus did you send him to the schoolhouse?” Doc slapped the table.

  “Uh, well, I didn’t think he’d harm Miss Kate.”

  “Joe says you took off like a bat out of . . . umm, er, someplace, after Buxton told you Quincannon’s horse was at the schoolhouse.” Monday couldn’t think what to say. Kate fanned herself and squirmed in her chair. Monday didn’t look at her, but he heard her dramatic sigh.

  “Let’s talk about that letter to Sheriff Boswell,” continued Doc. “Was that your idea?”

  “Yes. Yes, it was.”

  “Hmmm. Miss Shaw said she wrote it. Did you dictate it?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Did you tell her what to write?”

  “Oh. Yeah, I did. We thought—I thought—the key to the whole thing might be whether anyone in town came from Kansas or Colorado, where Marshal Taggart lived before. The county property records had what I needed.”

  “All right, here’s a big one for you. If this whole thing was your idea, how did you get Miss Shaw to play along with your charade?”

  Monday had to think about that. “I recollect I told her, um, if she didn’t keep quiet and go along with my plan, I’d tell everyone the marshal got killed the second morning out, and we rode the rest of the way without a chaperone. Her reputation would be ruined, and the town wouldn’t hire her.” He glanced at Kate, but she wouldn’t look at him.

  “Now, that’s interesting. If he’d been shot the second morning, you’d have been in Medicine Bow and would’ve escorted Miss Shaw back to Laramie and reported the murder.” Noah frowned and consulted his notes. Doc went on.

  “Miss Shaw said she lured you into the whole thing by promising you her favors if you solved the murder. Dang! I don’t know who to believe.

  “I do know one thing, however,” Doc said, and held out his left hand, palm up, in front of Noah, without looking at him. The banker dug a dollar out of his vest pocket and placed it in Doc’s palm.

  “Thank you, Noah. Always a pleasure to win a little money from you. You were a big help to me with that story of yours, Monday. If I got your handle right. That’s the biggest load of snake oil I ever heard. It’s only matched by Miss Shaw’s tale of sheer fantasy. Seems each of you took the blame and absolved the other. I bet that’s what you’d do after we heard Miss Shaw’s version.” Doc snorted and continued.

  “Now, it’s obvious to me, and I hope to the other council members, that the truth lies somewhere between your two stories. We may never know the real truth, unless you stick around long enough to tell us. We already voted to keep Miss Shaw on, despite her claim of offering you her favors.”

  Monday sneaked a look at Kate. Her eyes were on the floor; she was blushing and fanning herself furiously. Smelled like that cake ought to be done by now.

  Doc stood up and gestured to the other councilmen. They gathered by the far windows and spoke quietly. Monday turned to Kate. She ought to apologiz
e for tricking him this morning, but she wouldn’t look at him.

  Kate held the fan over her lower face. Out of the corner of her mouth, she said, “They’re going to decide in your favor. Be humble. Act grateful. Please.”

  Finally, the four men came back to the table. “Well,” Ike said, taking over from Doc. “We’ve decided to offer you the job of marshal anyway, Mr. Malone. Solving the murder, breaking up fights and possible shootings in the saloon, and what you did for Bert Sundquist says a lot in your favor. We note, however, your pattern of lies to this council for the last two weeks and presumably today, too. For that reason, we intend to reduce your monthly salary by another five dollars, at least for a year.”

  Ike looked left and right. The other men nodded. “All right, that’s it. That’s our offer, Malone. What do you say?”

  “Well, I always intended to ride on to Montana, whether we—I—solved the killing or not. I might still do that.” He heard Kate’s sharp intake of breath. “But I’m grateful for your offer. Do I have to say right now? Can I have a while to think on it?”

  “Well, I guess so,” Ike said. “Any objections?” The other men shook their heads.

  He pulled out his watch. “T’isn’t eleven yet. How about noon? Here’s your badge back,” he said, pushing it across the table. “If you don’t intend to stay, just find any of us and return it to him. All right? Lady and gentlemen, we’re adjourned.” With that, they gathered their hats and coats and filed out.

  Monday picked up the badge, then went to the door and looked down the stairs. “Don’t look like Bull’s come back yet, Kate. Can you walk?”

  “Not stairs. Would you carry me down? It seems I’m always in your arms lately, even if we never got to dance.” Monday understood the offer: Stay here and dance with me.

  He picked her up. Her hair was clean today, and her scent was overpowering. The buttons on Kate’s bodice looked strained.

  Kate saw what he was looking at and must have read his mind.

  “Don’t worry. They won’t pop off. I reinforced them last night and Martha sewed me into the dress this morning. But I can barely breathe.” She laughed.

  He got her through the door and down the stairs, returning her to her feet when they were down on the boards in front of the bank. Kate hobbled to a bench and sat down. She wore only bandages; no shoes or stockings. Lightning stood at the bank hitch rail, saddled and ready. He nickered at the sight of Monday.

  “You sure smell good this morning. Kind of reminds me of something at the dance.”

  “Vanilla. Becky Masterson taught me that little trick. I had the council keep all the windows closed this morning. As I got warmer, I gave off more of this aroma. I didn’t know how much to use, so I’m afraid I doused myself with half the bottle and used this fan I borrowed from Martha. The council was most receptive of my story. At least I didn’t have to bat my eyes at them.”

  “But I’ll bet you were prepared to.” No taming this woman with forty feet of rope and a snubbing post.

  “If I had to. I would have worn rouge and lip color, too, if I knew anyone who owned such things. I told the council I wouldn’t stay if they didn’t offer you the job.”

  Abruptly, she looked up at him. “You’re quite a detective, Marshal. By the way, congratulations on solving your first murder.”

  “I’m not. . . .” He gave up. “I didn’t hardly solve nothing ’til it was way too late. You know that, Kate. Why didn’t you take more credit for yourself up there?”

  “Because they only hired me to teach school. There won’t be any other opportunities for me to help solve crimes.”

  “Might be.” Monday began to play with the star in his hand, turning it over and over. “Maybe the next marshal will be some good-looking fella who won’t be able to count his own pay. He may need your help.”

  “Only one marshal would ever get my help,” she said, without a trace of a smile.

  “Well,” he said, untying Lightning from the hitch rack. “Guess I need to make my decision, then.”

  Monday could guess what Kate was thinking. It was only a few steps to the door of the bank. He could give his badge to Noah, get his money, and just keep going. They looked north toward the Platte River. Toward Montana. Monday shielded his eyes, then checked his pocket watch. Kate stood and swirled her skirt. That got his attention.

  “New dress?”

  “New to me. It’s a hand-me-down I still have to alter. I unpacked the rest of my dresses, but I couldn’t stand up to iron them.”

  “Well, anyway, it looks new. Looks good on you.”

  “Thank you. Not every cowboy would notice—or mention it if he did. I have a few nice dresses of my own,” she said with rising urgency. “But if you ride off to Montana, you’ll never see any of them, Monday Malone. Why not stay? You proved to the council, and to yourself, that you really are cut out to be a lawman.”

  “I always aimed to work cattle. It’s what I know. In a few years, maybe I could buy some land.”

  “You could do that here. Wyoming should be just as good for cattle as Montana. You have so many friends now, friends who will forget the lies of the last two weeks and welcome you to live here.”

  Her voice sounded close to breaking. Did her feet hurt or was it something else? He picked up Lightning’s reins and swung aboard.

  Kate hobbled a couple of steps and reached out to clutch one rein.

  “Listen to me, Monday. I used to think I was coming to Wyoming for the opportunity to see a new land, to be among the first women anywhere to vote. But I was really running away from my old life. This is as good a place as any, better than most, to stop running and start building new memories. I’ve made some friends here, and I’ve fought with two men and stolen a horse from a third. Things I never thought I could do before I came to Wyoming.” She barely caught her breath before forging on.

  “What about you? You say you’re looking for a job with a future in Montana. But from what you told Marshal Taggart and me, I think you’re running away from your past, just like I was. Running from your inability to save Mary Ellen, from the way you were treated by your brother Tom. Montana is only a name you put on your sanctuary, almost as far from Texas as you can get. Couldn’t you just call Wyoming your refuge and stop running right here?”

  That rocked him. Was he really running? Had he run as far as he needed to? He remembered the dream in which Kate had taken Mary Ellen’s place. Maybe he could stay. Maybe Kate. . . . Now he knew what he wanted her to ask him.

  “You make a strong case, Kate. You’ve said a lot of good reasons why I should stay. But maybe I just need to hear one more.” He leaned down to get closer to her. “Remember what you said two weeks ago when you roped me into pretending to be the marshal?”

  “You mean, ‘would you do it for no other reason than just because I ask you’?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. That’s just what you said.”

  “Oh. I understand.” She swallowed hard. “Well, would you stay here and become the marshal, for no other reason than just because I ask you to? Please.”

  Monday hesitated long enough to watch Kate squirm a little, remembering how his head swam that day on the trail to Warbonnet. He got down and stepped onto the walk in front of the bank. He took Kate’s right hand and placed the marshal’s badge in her palm. Kate choked back a sob and opened her mouth to say something, but he touched her lips softly with his right hand.

  “Sometimes a rolling stone stops when it finds the kind of moss it wants to gather.”

  With that, he pulled out the front of his shirt so she could pin on his star. Kate’s hand trembled and she blinked away tears. She wiped her eyes with the back of her left hand. Monday reached down and took the hand before she could wipe it on her dress. He kissed the back of her hand, the tears and the jagged scar, then released it so she could finish pinning on the badge. He swept Kate up into the carry position again and kissed her lightly.

  “Come on, old horse, let’s take Miss Kate home and
see what Martha’s got for dinner.”

  Monday turned the corner and walked up the street toward the boarding house. Lightning turned his head to look toward Montana, then shook himself and followed them.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Robert Kresge is a former senior intelligence analyst and

  founding member of the Central Intelligence Agency’s

  Counterterrorist Center. He lives in Albuquerque, New

  Mexico.

  Rob holds a Bachelor of Journalism from the

  University of Missouri and a Masters in International Affairs

  from George Washington University. He helped found and

  is a former president of “Croak and Dagger,” the Albuquerque

  chapter of Sisters in Crime, and is also a member of the Rocky

  Mountain Chapter of Mystery Writers of America; International

  Thriller Writers; the Historical Novel Society; and Western

  Writers of America.

  Further information on Rob and the Warbonnet mysteries can

  be found at www.robertkresge.com.