The woman pulled in a quick breath as her eyes immediately snapped over to Sol. ‘‘Then is he . . . ?’’
Sol shook his head quickly. ‘‘No! I came to have a word with Mr. Hayes.’’
‘‘Do you know this fella?’’ Hayes asked.
Sol shook his head. Thankfully, he didn’t need to lie. ‘‘No. I never even laid eyes on him before today.’’
‘‘Well, the law will straighten this out,’’ the woman said. ‘‘I’ll just—’’
‘‘You’ll stay right where you are,’’ Hayes told her. ‘‘I won’t have a little lady like yourself in harm’s way when there may be more armed men about. Besides, we’re two able-bodied fellows,’’ he added while slapping Sol’s stomach with the back of his hand. ‘‘We can fetch the law and tell him what happened here.’’
‘‘You sure you’re all right?’’ she asked.
‘‘The only thing hurt in that spill was my pride. I’d prefer to set the law straight before you start laughing at me and telling everyone how foolish I looked folded up at the bottom of these stairs.’’
The woman smiled wearily and straightened the front of her plain brown skirt. ‘‘Leaving me with the mess, huh?’’
Hayes tipped his hat, winked at her and worked his way slowly up the stairs.
Sol stood in his spot for a moment, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He couldn’t see anyone else inside the small room through that door, but he could see the bar and little stage where the spirits and song were supposedly served up. There were a few tables, but most of them were covered by upended chairs. When he turned to see where Hayes had gone, Sol caught sight of a few bullet holes in the woodwork along the stairwell. Since most of those holes were anything but fresh, he had a good idea why these last few shots didn’t incite even more panic. As if to refute his last thought, Sol heard a frantic voice coming from upstairs.
‘‘Are you hurt, Mr. Hayes?’’ the well-dressed man asked. ‘‘Who was that man? Where’s the other one? I’ve got to inform the—’’
‘‘One step ahead of you,’’ Hayes said from the top of the stairs. ‘‘Just stay put and help clean up downstairs. That’s a good man.’’
Sol had to chuckle since he wasn’t the only one who ordered that well-dressed fellow around as if he were a bothersome pet.
‘‘You,’’ Hayes barked.
Sol looked up and turned so he could place one foot upon the lowermost step. The old man was up there pointing down at him.
‘‘That’s right,’’ Hayes snapped. ‘‘You’re coming with me.’’
‘‘I know. That’s why I’m here.’’
‘‘Well, come along, then.’’
Sol may have been out of sorts. He may even have been a bit rattled. He wasn’t, however, about to let himself be shoved around in the same way as the well-dressed man who ran that opera house.
Picking up on the spark in Sol’s eyes, Hayes amended himself by adding, ‘‘I’d like to have a word with you while we see the law.’’
Sol nodded and followed the old man through the front door. The moment they were outside, Sol felt an iron grip lock around his elbow. ‘‘What are you doing?’’ Sol asked as he tried unsuccessfully to pull his arm free.
‘‘This way,’’ Hayes snapped. Without waiting for another word from Sol, he pulled the younger man along toward St. Louis Avenue.
Planting his feet, Sol put all of his muscle into his arm and pulled it free from the older man’s grasp. Since Hayes had already let him go, Sol wound up making a powerful swing for the sky. ‘‘If you intend on taking me to the law,’’ Sol said, ‘‘I can’t let you do that.’’
‘‘We’re not going to the law.’’
‘‘What?’’ Sol asked.
‘‘You heard me, boy.’’ Hayes looked up and down the street. St. Louis Avenue was slightly narrower than the street from which it branched, but still had plenty of activity moving along it. At the moment, however, most of that activity was flowing toward the nearby saloon district.
‘‘Matter of fact,’’ Hayes said in a low voice, ‘‘you’re damn lucky I don’t kill you right here and now.’’
Having reached the limit of his patience, Sol went for the gun at his side. As his hand brushed against the familiar iron, his eyes caught sight of a smaller gun being held by the older man. Not only had Hayes produced a pistol from somewhere, but he aimed that pistol at Sol’s belly.
‘‘What in the hell do you think you’re doing?’’ Sol asked.
Hayes’ eyes narrowed and the gun remained steady. ‘‘After what just happened back in that opera house, I’d say I was defending myself. Seeing as how I’m the one with the credible witnesses, I’d wager the law would see things my way. That is, if anyone even thought to come to me once they find your body.’’
‘‘I didn’t fire a shot at you, you old fool!’’
‘‘Keep your voice down or I’ll be forced to end this conversation real quick.’’
When Sol took another look around, he wasn’t encouraged by what he saw. In fact, it was the first time in a while that he was actually disappointed that he wasn’t drawing any attention. The occasional local glanced at him and Hayes, but they were on their way to somewhere else. There were no horses or wagons moving along St. Louis Avenue at the moment, and nobody from any of the nearby storefronts seemed interested in butting into Sol’s conversation. While Hayes fixed his eyes upon Sol, he also did a real good job of keeping his pistol down low and in close to his body where it couldn’t easily be seen.
‘‘Why would I want to kill you?’’ Sol asked.
‘‘I don’t know. Why did that other fella want to kill me?’’
‘‘That’s a good question. He told me he owed you money.’’
Hayes let out a sharp laugh. ‘‘Is that what he told you? That’s rich.’’
Sol studied the older man’s face and asked, ‘‘Do you know why that man was after you?’’
‘‘Yeah. Probably for the same reason you are. I’m Nester Quarles.’’
Chapter 15
Nester moved quickly for a man of his age, even though Sol didn’t exactly know what Nester’s age truly was. The old man was balding and his remaining hair was more the color of salt than pepper. He had some wrinkles on his face, but it was difficult to tell where the wrinkles stopped and where the scars began. The skin on Nester’s hands was somewhat loose, but that only narrowed his age down to a range of between fifty to seventy years.
After Nester had introduced himself, the old man had started walking and motioned for Sol to follow. ‘‘You’re one of the Brakefield kids, ain’t you?’’ he asked.
Sol blinked a few times and replied, ‘‘Yes. Yes, I am.’’
‘‘Which one? Obviously not the one who was taught any manners, or else you would have told me your name already.’’
‘‘Things have been moving kind of fast, in case you haven’t noticed,’’ Sol groused.
‘‘So they have,’’ Nester said as he glanced over to the man walking beside him. ‘‘Wouldn’t that be your fault? I was just sipping on some expensive whiskey when you and that bounty hunter came stomping along.’’
‘‘Bounty hunter?’’
Tipping his hat politely to a young woman who looked at him like he was her grandpa, Nester said, ‘‘That’s right.’’
‘‘How do you know he was a bounty hunter?’’
‘‘Because he’s been poking his nose around here asking about me. That’s why I was sitting in a cellar drinking whiskey during the middle of the day.’’
Sol shook his head. ‘‘So I just happened to come along when there was a bounty hunter after you?’’
‘‘Don’t feel bad, boy. There’s always bounty hunters sniffing around for me. Sometimes,’’ he added with a grin, ‘‘they even ask me where to find me. Seems like Daniel Hayes has been known to tell some wild stories when he’s had too much whiskey.’’
‘‘Where are you going?’’
‘‘I nee
d to collect a few things before we leave.’’
‘‘We?’’ Sol asked. ‘‘We’re leaving? Both of us?’’
‘‘For a man who came looking for me, you don’t seem too happy to have found me. I’m starting to think you’re downright confused.’’
‘‘I wanted to have a word with you, not go anywhere. I’ve come a long way as it is.’’
‘‘You wanted to talk, so talk. I still need to collect my things because bounty hunters are usually missed when they get killed. Even if that one ain’t, he could be recognized by the law when they get a look at his corpse.’’
‘‘I thought you said you weren’t going to the law.’’
Nester waved his hand dismissively. ‘‘The laws always find out when someone gets killed,’’ he grumbled. ‘‘Downright ghoulish if you ask me.’’
‘‘Maybe it wasn’t a good idea for me to come here,’’ Sol said.
Pretending as if he hadn’t heard that last part, Nester glanced over to Sol and watched him for a few seconds. ‘‘You Amelia’s boy?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘I recognized you on account of your chin. All of Amelia’s boys had that chin. Which one are you?’’
‘‘Solomon.’’
Nester nodded and waved to someone who’d called out his assumed name from across the street. ‘‘If I was the sensitive sort, I would have been hurt you didn’t recognize me the moment you laid eyes on me. Course, you were pretty young the last time I seen you.’’
‘‘It’s only been five or six years,’’ Sol reminded him.
That stopped Nester dead in his tracks as he scratched his head. ‘‘Couldn’t be. You was knee high to a grasshopper and playin’ soldier with some other boys.’’
When Sol heard that, he said, ‘‘I used to do that when I was a boy.’’
‘‘Ain’t that what I said the first time?’’
‘‘But I saw you talking to my uncle at a family gathering. You were talking about coming to this town when it was just being founded.’’
After thinking it over for a bit, Nester shrugged and nodded. ‘‘I suppose that was the last time I went to one of them things. Yer family’s always been friendly enough to put me up and feed me whenever I rode through town. And to think, the first time I met one o’ yer kin, it was to rob him blind.’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘Sure,’’ Nester replied. ‘‘I been robbin’ since I could lift a pistol. I ain’t exactly one to ride around shakin’ hands just to meet folks.’’
‘‘Who did you rob?’’
Nester furrowed his brow and slowly shook his head. ‘‘There’s been so many, I hardly recall. I know it wound up friendlier than I expected, since one of yer cousins was already on the bad side of some lawman. I chased that crooked son of a bitch away and yer cousin was always grateful. At least, I think it was yer cousin. Anyhow, introductions were made and I got to know plenty of yer family. I even went to a whole mess of dinners, parties and whatnot.’’
‘‘I didn’t know we’d ever met,’’ Sol admitted. ‘‘I just heard about you from my family.’’
‘‘Well, I couldn’t exactly stroll in usin’ my own name. Who in yer family talked about me?’’
‘‘Well . . . all of them, pretty much.’’
Nester chuckled and crossed the street. From there, he turned left onto North Poplar. ‘‘So you wait around for a while, think back to the good old days and then decide to head on into Leadville and look for me?’’
‘‘There’s more to it than that.’’
Suddenly, Nester stopped and turned around to face Sol directly. ‘‘Well, I’m just anxious as hell to hear the rest of yer story, but it’ll have to wait.’’
‘‘Why?’’
‘‘You see that wagon over there?’’
Sol looked down the street and saw a small cart that might have been able to carry some tools and a few crates. The cart was tied to a single horse, which looked too tired to hold its head up for very long. ‘‘You mean that cart?’’
‘‘Yeah. That’s my wagon and I can’t have it known that ye’re coming along with me.’’
‘‘Why not?’’
‘‘Because you know who I am and that makes you the only living soul in this town apart from that horse who knows that much about me. Seein’ as how there’s plenty more bounty hunters where that other one came from, I’m gonna tell you to get stuffed and ye’re gonna walk away.’’
‘‘But I won’t just—’’
‘‘I know, I know,’’ Nester grunted quickly. ‘‘I got a small spread a few miles west of here, up along a narrow trail leading past an old mine. Meet me there by nightfall.’’
Sol nodded and let out a tired sigh. ‘‘I wish you would’ve told me that earlier. I left my horse all the way back where we started.’’
‘‘I wanted you to walk this far with me.’’
Smiling at what he thought could be some warmth in the old man’s voice, Sol said, ‘‘I’m happy to oblige.’’
Patting Sol on the shoulder, Nester explained, ‘‘I had to make doubly sure I didn’t want to kill you.’’ With that, Nester showed Sol an amicable smirk and walked over to his wagon. ‘‘Now get stuffed!’’ he hollered over his shoulder. ‘‘I don’t want whatever ye’re sellin’!’’
Sol watched the old man go and wondered if that could be the man that had inspired so many of his family’s legends. Nester Quarles was supposed to be cold as a winter morning and wicked as the day is long. He was supposed to be loyal to his friends and a plague to his enemies. He was supposed to have stolen at least one of everything that could be stolen and fired more bullets than an army.
Sol watched that man wave to anyone who looked his way and climb up into the driver’s seat of a little cart as if the effort was almost too much strain upon his back. Sol knew it had been some years since those legends had started, but could Nester Quarles truly be this balding fellow?
And then Sol thought back to what had happened in the opera house. He hadn’t seen Hayes pull that trigger, but Kincaid surely hadn’t shot himself. The woman with the short hair didn’t have a gun as far as Sol could tell, so that left only one man who could have killed Kincaid. And after that, Nester had joked with Sol and done a bit of flirting with the woman.
Yeah, Sol decided. That was Nester Quarles. At least, it was close enough for Sol to turn and run back to the spot where he’d tied his gray gelding so he could follow the directions he’d been given. If he’d had less faith in the man, Sol would have ridden anywhere but up that pass Nester had told him about. Granted, Sol had only spoken to the old man for a few minutes, but that was enough to give him some hope that Nester could provide some of the help he was after.
Sol was still sifting through these thoughts when he turned the corner and set his eyes once more upon the stretch of Harrison Avenue where the Monarch Saloon and Tabor Opera House could be found. The street was bustling with activity and most of it was centered on the opera house. Pulling his hat down low over his face, Sol kept his head down and wound his way through the outer edge of that crowd.
‘‘Anyone know who that man is?’’ someone asked.
‘‘I heard he was after Nester Quarles!’’
Sol slowed his pace so he could hear more. All the while, he prepared himself to make a run for his horse.
‘‘Damn fool,’’ someone grunted.
Sol felt a slap on his shoulder that turned him around to face the opera house. His hand dropped toward his gun, but stopped short of clearing leather.
‘‘You hear about this?’’ asked a man who was dressed in a dark suit and a string tie.
‘‘No,’’ Sol said quickly, recognizing the man’s voice as one of the ones he’d already heard.
The man shook his head and stretched his neck to try and get a better look at the opera house. ‘‘Another damn fool came around thinking he’d found Nester Quarles. Can you believe that? Must be the fourth one in as many months.’’
Sol could see a small woman standing directly in his line of sight. She was short enough that she didn’t even try to see through the crowd that might easily have knocked her over. When she saw Sol looking at her, she shook her head and held up two fingers.
‘‘Maybe three,’’ she said just loud enough to be heard.
‘‘However many it is, there’s one more to add to the list,’’ the man in the string tie said.
Sol kept moving until he finally emerged from the crowd. Thanks to the commotion, nobody had taken much interest in a single gray gelding no matter how many saddlebags it was carrying. A few quick pats against the saddlebags were enough for Sol to know they were still full. He unbuckled one, took a look inside and then closed it up again when he saw the glimpse of that money. While he was glad the money was there, Sol also wondered how long his good fortune would hold up.
After climbing into his saddle, Sol was high enough to get a better look at the opera house. The well-dressed fellow who’d greeted Sol and Kincaid was now flitting about the front of the opera house like a panicked moth. The dark-haired woman stood on the boardwalk and held the door open so a few men could drag out Kincaid’s body. The crowd moved in even closer, so Sol took that opportunity to leave.
Riding through the streets of Leadville, Sol kept his horse moving at a normal walk and kept his head down. He’d come this far and stirred up plenty more fuss than he’d hoped along the way, so he wasn’t about to risk being tripped up now. Only after he was out of Leadville did he speed up and start following the directions Nester had given him. Once he was on the proper trail, Sol snapped his reins and let his gray gelding break into a gallop.
The mountain air felt cool against his face and had just enough of a bite to keep him sharp. As he rode, he watched for a trace of the old man’s cart. Not only didn’t he see the cart, but he couldn’t even see a hint that it had come this way. Sol knew he wasn’t a master tracker, but he figured he should have caught up to the old man by now. The two possibilities in Sol’s mind were that he’d made a wrong turn or had been given the wrong directions. Since he’d already come this far along the trail, he supposed he might as well go a bit farther.
Death of a Bad Man Page 13
