by J. T. Edson
‘I figured he would be, seeing’s how he come after us from Honesty John’s,’ Meacher claimed. ‘And, way you acted when they brought you in, you’ve got something to tell me from him.’
‘That I have. He says for you to sit back and don’t go busting out, ’cause, less’n you’ve already got one, he’ll be getting a lawyer for you.’
‘I don’t have and the son-of-a-bitch’s he gets for me’d better be the best ’n’ around.’
‘Only the best is good enough for you, Mean Mick,’ Sangster asserted. ‘We’ve got a feller watching the office from across the street, so I’ll go signal like we fixed up that you’ll need the law-wrangler.’ Raising his voice, he yelled, ‘Hey out there!’
‘You got it done, huh, Ray?’ Dusty Fog said, coming through the connecting door followed by some of his deputies.
‘Flattery worked, just like you said it would,’ Sangster announced, reverting to his normal mode of speech and going to the door of the cell. ‘He accepted it when I told him the man was Will Little and had gone to Brownton to get him a lawyer, so I’m sure he doesn’t know any more about who did hire him than he told you.’
‘You’ve done real good, amigo,’ Dusty praised, watching an expression of what he assumed to be horror come over Meacher’s face and having no doubt the mood of despondency would soon return now he had received proof of how easily he had been tricked. ‘Open up and let Ray out, Pickle.’
‘I won’t be sorry to get this wig off and cleaned up,’ the New Englander stated, on the order being carried out. However, as he and the peace officers were walking away, none noticed the speculative way in which Meacher was studying him. ‘Wearing a disguise always makes me feel so dirty.’ [17]
Six – You Look Like A Man With Problems
‘Howdy there, Ray,’ Captain Dustine Edward Marsden “Dusty” Fog greeted, turning from studying the window display of the gunshop on Trail Street as the New Englander was hurrying past with an air of preoccupation which explained the lack of acknowledgement from him.
‘Oh hello, Dusty,’ Raymond Sangster replied, sounding startled. Jerking his head around and coming to a halt, he went on apologetically, ‘I didn’t notice you.’
‘It looked that way,’ the small Texan admitted with a grin, starting to stroll along the boardwalk at the side of the New Englander.
‘I see you’re not wearing your badge,’ Sangster remarked.
‘Not anymore,’ Dusty confirmed. ‘Kail Beauregard got in yesterday and I’ve handed over the office to him.’
‘So you’ve not got anything to stop you going home?’ the New Englander inquired, a touch of disappointment in his voice.
‘Nope,’ the small Texan replied. ‘But we won’t be lighting a shuck straight off. The boys say they want to have some of the fun they missed through us taking over as peace officers so soon after we got here and that’ll let Freddie and me spend a few days together now she’s not busy with the Railroad Commission.’
It was mid-afternoon three days after the abortive ambush. During that time, Dusty had become satisfied Sangster was correct in claiming Michael Meacher did not know the identity of the man responsible for it. Having received a message from a confederate which caused her to terminate her visit more quickly than she had anticipated, Belle Starr, before leaving, had passed on the information gleaned from Edmund Fagin—without revealing, or being asked, its source—and her belief that the employer of the trio had worn a disguise at ~ Honesty John’s Tavern. She had not heard anything more from the fence to suggest the man was seeking replacements to try again. Nor had there been any further attempts to kill the small Texan.
What Sangster achieved with his plan had made the peace officers more inclined to be friendly than might otherwise have been the case, their respective interests and social backgrounds being so dissimilar. Despite the willingness he had shown to help deal with Meacher, even where Dusty was concerned, except for having come on to first name terms, he had made no attempt to keep in closer contact than previously. Going by appearances, he had been too occupied with his duties to spend much time on relaxation. Mostly they had seen him hurrying around in a harassed fashion, attending to whatever matters might be arising in town or from the work already taking place on the spur-line.
‘You look like a man with problems,’ Dusty commented. ‘Having trouble with the Railroad Commission?’
‘No,’ the New Englander denied, but his voice lacked conviction. ‘I can leave dealing with them to Mr. Todhunter. Up to a point, that is.’
‘I’d say the “point’s” getting close, or has come,’ Dusty guessed and, having noticed the emphasis placed upon the word, “them”, continued, ‘Are you having some kind of trouble with the construction work?’
‘N—Well— Yes, I am. But I don’t want to saddle you with my problems.’
‘My daddy always told me a trouble shared’s a trouble halved.’
‘But-!’
‘If it’s something private and confidential—!’
‘It’s nothing like that, Dusty. Well, not in the sense you mean.’
‘Then let’s go in the Fair Lady and talk about it.’
‘Very well,’ Sangster assented, the saloon having been reached while the conversation was taking place.
Entering the elegantly furnished building and glancing around the main room, the New Englander was pleased to find neither the owner nor any of the floating outfit were present. He was also grateful when, on reaching the bar, Dusty told the big woman who had acted as female deputy at the jailhouse that they wanted to use a side room and not be disturbed. Shown to one by the ‘barmaid’, as the Englishwoman called her employees who served behind the counter, the New Englander declined the offer of a beer and started to talk when she closed the door.
‘I doubt whether there’s any objection to my telling you that, at the last meeting of the Commission, the British delegates asked if they could come to the railhead and see how construction is going before giving a final decision. It’ll probably be all round town before nightfall.’
‘They do say anything that shouldn’t get out always does, Ray,’ Dusty reminded. ‘Aren’t things going well?’
‘I have to admit they could be a whole lot better,’ the New Englander replied, looking uneasy. ‘We’re still a good five miles from the Platte River in Nebraska and should be well beyond it by now.’ [18]
‘How come?’ Dusty asked, remembering his wife’s remarks about the faith in Sangster’s abilities which Harland Todhunter had expressed on more than one occasion when the construction was being discussed by the Railroad Commission. ‘It can’t be you’ve been having fuss with those Metis from Canada we locked horns with, or anybody else, or you’d have said so before now.’
‘No, nobody’s been making trouble for us in the way you mean,’ Sangster answered. ‘It’s just—Oh hell! I may as well admit it. This’s the first major construction work I’ve handled. In fact, it’s my first job of any kind—!’
‘Then why—?’ the small Texan began, but let the question die uncompleted so as not to add to the obvious distress being shown by the New Englander.
‘Oh, I know all the theory very well,’ Sangster said bitterly, ‘And the reports on my work when I graduated from the college were sufficiently impressive so that, because of Harland Junior’s trouble, Mr. Todhunter gave me the work instead of him.’
‘Harland Junior, huh?’ Dusty said. ‘That’d be his son?’
‘Yes!’
‘Freddie said she’d heard King saying he was surprised Mr. Todhunter was using you instead of his own son. I reckon he’d have a pretty good reason.’
‘He considers he has. Just before we were due to graduate, Harl was mixed up in a wild party celebrating our team winning a Boston game against Notre Dame and was kicked out. [19] The old man was furious and disowned him, then took me up in his place.’
‘So what went wrong?’ Dusty inquired, although he could guess.
‘I found there is a
vast difference in knowing the theory and actually doing the job,’ Sangster admitted, looking downcast. ‘It takes a special kind of man to handle the work crews and I’ve found out that I’m not the kind. Nor have I anybody who is. Take today for example. There are two construction crews who came into town after they were paid two days ago and, although a train’s ready to take them out to the railhead, I can’t persuade them to leave the saloon where they’re celebrating.’
‘Going by all I saw of them while I’ve been wearing a badge here, those gandy dancers can do plenty of that,’ the small Texan remarked. ‘Only I’d’ve thought that, by now, they’d have run through their pay and be ready to head back.’
‘It doesn’t seem like they have,’ the New Englander stated in tones of annoyance. ‘At least, they appeared to have enough to keep buying drinks at the Driven Spike Saloon when I went th—!’
‘Hello, Ray,’ greeted Freddie Fog, having brought Sangster’s explanation to an end by coming into the room. Making a prohibitive gesture as the men began to rise, she went on, ‘Don’t get up. The barmaid told me you were here and I thought I’d look in to see if there’s anything you want.’
‘Nothing for me, thank you,’ Sangster refused, after receiving an interrogatory glance from Dusty. ‘But I’m keeping you apart.’
In her mid-twenties, Freddie was an exceptionally fine example of feminine pulchritude. Beneath a wide brimmed, low crowned black hat which was tilted rakishly to the right, her immaculately coiffured hair was coal black. Regally beautiful, her face had the rich golden tan of one in robust health. Its expression and her demeanor implied she was a person with whom, despite living in what was still very much a ‘man’s world’, it would be ill-advised to trifle or take any other kind of liberty. Instead of being dressed for appearing in her capacity as the mayor of Mulrooney, which was invariably the conventional attire of a “good” woman by the standards prevailing in the West, she had on clothes suitable for the owner of what was claimed to be the largest and best saloon in Mulrooney. While not so revealing as the garments she wore in the evening, these emphasized the magnificently curved contours of her close to ‘hourglass’ figure and made her a most attractive sight to masculine eyes.
‘Don’t let that bother you, I’m working even if this shiftless husband of mine has retired,’ the Englishwoman replied, then became more serious. ‘Whatever it was brought you here, it’s obviously something important and, although I think gambling is too foolish to get in to, I’d be willing to bet it’s to do with problems on the spur-line.’
‘It is, honey,’ Dusty confirmed. ‘Do you want to sit in on it, happen that’s all right with Ray?’
‘Being a nosey woman, I really only came in hoping I’d be asked,’ Freddie replied frankly, crossing from the door and sitting down without waiting for an answer from Sangster. She removed her wide brimmed black hat and peeled the long green feather boa from around her throat, dropping them on the table, then went on, ‘Lord, how I hate wearing these!’
‘It goes with the chore, honey,’ Dusty pointed out, bowing in mock gallantry without rising. ‘And you sure look great in them.’
‘Hearing that should tell you we’re still newly-weds, Ray,’ Freddie asserted and, having sensed something was troubling Sangster, continued with the levity to help put him at ease. ‘It’s either that, or my dear husband wants something. He only starts the sweet talk when he does, or has done something he knows I won’t approve of.’
‘Lordy lord, I’ve married me a suspicious kind of wife,’ Dusty complained in mock alarm. ‘Tell the boss lady what you’ve just told me, amigo. Likely she can come up with something that’ll help you out.’
‘But it’s priv—!’ Sangster commenced, then made an amendment. ‘It’s hardly right for me to inflict my troubles on you.’
‘Why not,’ Freddie asked with a smile, the words having been directed at her. ‘Everybody else does. You should hear some of the troubles Waco has told me about.’
‘Mine are probably more serious—!’ the New Englander began with asperity, then looked contrite.
‘I wouldn’t doubt that,’ Freddie declared, showing no sign of resenting the interruption. ‘His most serious is having more hairs on his chest than my maid, Babsy, has on hers.’ [20]
‘His most serious’ll be riding the blister end of a shovel when we get back to home, should he keep on about that,’ Dusty announced in a similarly light-hearted tone. Then he became more serious and continued, ‘Go to it, amigo, and we’ll see what Freddie comes up with.’
‘And that is how things stand, Freddie,’ Sangster said, having repeated the gist of what he had told the small Texan. ‘I have to get those two crews back to work, or there isn’t even the slightest hope of covering the distance Mr. Todhunter has led the English delegation to expect. Not that there’s much chance of it as things stand, anyway. But we might at least be able to let them see we’re making progress and shouldn’t be too long overdue at the junction with the Canadian line.’
‘They’re Irish, I suppose?’ Freddie guessed.
‘Not all of them,’ the New Englander replied. ‘But I suppose most are. The majority of our crews are Irish.’
‘From what I’ve seen of Irish gandy dancers,’ Freddie assessed. ‘It will take more than just asking to get them on the work train.’
‘I could offer them a bonus to go back?’ the New Englander suggested, as if speaking aloud to himself.
‘You’d be establishing a precedent that could run into a lot of money,’ the Englishwoman estimated and her husband signified agreement. ‘Once word got out that you’d done it, they and all your other men wouldn’t leave town when they came in until you’d paid another bonus.’
‘Then I’d better go and threaten to fire any of them who aren’t on it within an hour,’ Sangster said, starting to push back his chair.
‘That won’t work either!’ Freddie stated and Dusty nodded concurrence again. ‘In fact, it will only make things worse. Being Irish, particularly Irish who’re drinking, it’s their nature to just dig in their heels and defy you to do it.’
‘There’s nothing more sure than that, amigo?’ the small Texan supported.
‘If I can’t order, or threaten them into going back,’ the New Englander groaned, looking desperate. ‘What’s left for me to do?’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Ray,’ Freddie requested gently, wanting to avoid hurting the young man’s feelings any more than, it was apparent, they had been already by his inability to cope with the situation causing him such concern. ‘But I was thinking perhaps Dusty could help you get them on the train.’
‘Dusty}' Sangster repeated, looking surprised. ‘You mean order them as mar—No, that won’t; be any good. He isn’t marshal anymore.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of Dusty walking in there as marshal and ordering them to go,’ Freddie corrected. ‘That would cause bad feelings against the town and you for having asked him to take your part against them.’ Pausing, she looked at her husband and resumed, ‘Do you think the General will consider building this spur-line’s pretty important and beneficial to the United States when he hears about it, dear?’
‘Knowing him, he’s already heard and does,’ Dusty assessed. ‘Fact being, happen he knew the situation, he’d tell me to do everything I could to help.’
The small Texan was delighted to find, as he had anticipated, his wife was thinking along the same lines as himself without any need for them to discuss the matter. While he would have been willing to offer whatever assistance might be required to whoever was in difficulties, there was a far stronger inducement in the present circumstances. Under the strict code of honor in which he was raised from childhood, the way his life had been saved in the attempted ambush meant he was under an obligation to the man responsible. Therefore, it behoove him to respond to whatever situation arose to repay the debt.
However, regardless of his desire, Dusty was aware he no longer was a free agent. Not only did he ha
ve his duties for the OD Connected to consider, even though he was sure his uncle would have no objections to his continued absence for such a worthwhile cause, but he had also recently taken a wife from whom circumstances would compel him to separate in a short while. Knowing she had been looking forward to them spending some uninterrupted time together, as he was, he wanted her to agree with any action that could cause an even earlier departure. She had justified his faith that she would agree to him helping the New Englander. What was more, again confirming his surmise, she was steering the conversation along the lines he wanted and in a way which would prevent it appearing he was taking an unasked interest in Sangster’s affairs.
‘Help in what way?’ the New Englander asked.
‘Well,’ Freddie said, before the small Texan could speak. ‘Suppose you hired Dusty as gang boss—if that’s the job I mean?’ Seeing a gleam of understanding start to come to Sangster’s face, she continued, ‘That way, it would be his duty and not yours to get those crews back to work.’
‘But I can’t ask him to take a job like that!’ Sangster objected, despite showing hope mingled with disappointment.
‘Why not?’ the Englishwoman queried, bringing back her warm smile and eyeing her husband in a mock disdain. ‘It will get him from under my feet for a while.’
‘I thought you said you were going back to Texas, Dusty?’ Sangster asked, looking puzzled.
‘You don’t reckon I’d stay on here and get talked about like that, now do you?’ the small Texan replied, returning Freddie’s look with one of the same kind. ‘And one of the good things about being the boss’s favorite nephew is I can stay away from the spread for a spell when I’m so minded.’
‘But you’ve already been away for some time,’ the New Englander pointed out.
‘There are some who would say the ranch’s been running better for that,’ the beautiful young woman claimed. Again she put aside the levity and elaborated, ‘It makes good sense to me, Ray. You can deal with the way the construction is carried out and Dusty will see what you want gets done. It’s as easy as that.’
