The Loner: Killer Poker

by J. A. Johnstone

  Conrad waited at the bottom of the stairs for her, and as she reached them, he held out a hand to her. As she took it, he said, “You look lovely, Miss Sullivan.”

  She blushed prettily. “Under the circumstances, shouldn’t you call me Rose, Mr. Browning?”

  “All right,” he said with a smile. “And I’m Conrad.”

  “Of course . . . Conrad.”

  Her voice was a little husky as she said his name. He felt himself reacting to her. He was only human, after all.

  But he was also engaged in important business, and Rose had a part to play in that business. “Shall we go?”

  “Certainly. Just let me get my shawl.”

  Mrs. Sherman stepped forward holding a lace shawl. “It’s right here, Rose. My, don’t you and your gentleman friend look fine tonight, just fine!”

  Conrad didn’t bother correcting the landlady about him being Rose’s “gentleman friend.” He didn’t know what she might have told Mrs. Sherman about what was happening, and it didn’t really matter. As long as Rose did her job and gave him a chance to find out what he wanted to know, that was all he cared about.

  With Mrs. Sherman beaming and clasping her hands together in front of her, Conrad and Rose left the boarding house and walked out to the buggy. He linked his arm with hers as he did so. Might as well get used to acting like they were a real couple, he told himself.

  The driver didn’t waste any time getting the buggy rolling briskly through the streets, and it wasn’t long before they pulled up in front of the mansion that belonged to Ellery and Violet Hudson. It was similar to the boarding house where Rose lived, but it was built on a much larger and grander scale. If it had been daylight, Conrad might have been able to count all the gables, but he probably wouldn’t have bothered. A flagstone driveway led through a large lawn dotted with shrubs, flower beds, and trees, and the brightly lit house made a pretty picture as the buggy approached.

  A number of other buggies and even some old-fashioned carriages were parked in front of the house, where the drive made a circle around a big flower bed. Guests were climbing out of some of those vehicles.

  When the driver brought the buggy to a halt, a liveried butler was there to help Conrad and Rose get out. Conrad hopped lithely from the buggy and motioned the man away, then turned back to take Rose’s hand. She smiled in appreciation of his gallantry.

  Another servant was at the door to greet them and take Rose’s shawl, which he turned over to a maid. The man led the two of them into a large, luxuriously appointed room where people with drink in their hands were mingling. Laughter and talk filled the air, just like it would have in a saloon, but it was a much more subdued sound.

  Once again Conrad was struck by how strange it all seemed to him. At one time in his life, he had spent many of his evenings in settings just like that one. It seemed like an entire lifetime ago, as if someone else besides him had lived through those experiences and somehow the memories had intruded into his brain.

  “Conrad, there you are!” Ellery Hudson emerged from the crowd to shake his hand. Then he turned to Rose, put his hands on her shoulders, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “And Rose, you’re looking as lovely as ever.”

  She looked shocked, until Conrad leaned close to her and whispered, “You’re supposed to be a member of the family, remember?”

  Rose smiled brightly, gave Hudson a hug, and said, “Ellery, darling. How are you? How’s Violet?”

  “Anxious to see you,” Hudson said as he slipped out of her embrace. “She’s right over there.” He pointed to an attractive brunette in a green gown. “Why don’t you go say hello to your cousin, dear? I’ll join you in a moment.”

  “Of course,” Rose murmured.

  As she moved through the crowd, smiling and gracious, Hudson said quietly to Conrad, “Quite a little actress, isn’t she?”

  “She is,” Conrad agreed.

  “I’ve been talking to people about you,” Hudson went on. “You know how this crowd likes to gossip. Whenever I brought up your name and said that you were going to be here tonight, nearly everyone brought up the tragedy that befell you, if I may speak frankly.”

  “Please do,” Conrad said with a nod.

  “Everyone’s very glad that it turned out you weren’t killed after all.”

  Conrad smiled tightly. “That’s good to know.”

  “A few people brought up Pamela as well. They remember when the two of you were engaged.”

  “Do any of them remember her being here three years ago?” Conrad asked. His heart began to beat a little faster as he waited for Hudson’s answer.

  “Actually, one man did remember her paying a visit to Denver about the time we’re interested in.” Hudson put a hand on Conrad’s arm. “But brace yourself, Conrad. He didn’t know anything about the children.”

  Conrad felt a surge of disappointment. He swallowed it and told himself that was just the beginning. Whoever the man was, he might know more than he realized, especially if he had spent any time with Pamela while she was there. “Who is it? I want to talk to him.”

  “That’s the odd thing about it . . . I don’t believe you even know him. He didn’t live in this area when you and Pamela were engaged. He became acquainted with her when she was here the last time. I’ll introduce you.”

  Hudson guided Conrad through the crowd. As they approached a knot of men standing in front of a huge fireplace that wasn’t lit at that time of year, he heard loud laughter coming from them, evidently prompted by something one of the men had said. That man stood with his back to Conrad, his broad shoulders seeming to stretch the expensive fabric of his coat.

  “Excuse me,” Hudson said as he and Conrad stepped up to the group. “Conrad, I’d like for you to meet Ransom McKinney—”

  The big man swung around in response to the lawyer’s voice. Conrad recognized him instantly.

  The man was the son of a bitch who had attacked Conrad in the Palace gambling room the night before.

  Chapter 8

  The smile on McKinney’s face disappeared. An angry scowl replaced it as his fingers tightened on the glass he held. “You! What are you doing here?” He looked like he was ready to throw the glass into Conrad’s face.

  Conrad was ready to move fast if McKinney tried anything.

  Hudson frowned. “Is something wrong here?”

  “Damn right there’s something wrong,” McKinney said into the uncomfortable silence that had fallen. “Judging by the fact that this hombre’s here, you need to start inviting a better class of guests to these little get-togethers of yours.”

  Hudson began to look angry. “Now see here, I don’t care how much money you have, Ransom, you can’t—”

  Conrad put a hand on the lawyer’s shoulder to stop him. “Don’t worry about it, Ellery. He’s just blustering, like an old bull pawing the dirt.”

  McKinney said, “An old bull who can trample you into that dirt, you little—”

  “That’s enough,” Hudson cut in. “Enough, do you hear me? I won’t stand for this. If you want to continue as my client, Ransom, you’ll apologize to my friend. You may not know it, but this is Conrad Browning.”

  Clearly, McKinney was enough of a businessman for the name to mean something to him. His shaggy gray eyebrows went up in surprise for a moment, then his eyes narrowed. “You’re Conrad Browning?”

  “That’s right,” Conrad replied coolly.

  “Then maybe both of us jumped the gun a mite.” McKinney shifted his drink from his right to his left and extended the right. “Sorry, Browning. For the trouble last night and for anything I said here tonight.”

  “You two have met?” Hudson asked.

  “That’s right.” McKinney chuckled. “He’s the one who gave me this bruise.” He motioned with the hand holding the drink to a small purple mark on his face.

  McKinney’s right hand was still held out. Conrad took it. “Apology accepted, McKinney.” He didn’t think the rancher’s words were sincere and s
till didn’t trust him, but didn’t want to continue the scene in Ellery Hudson’s house.

  Hudson heaved a sigh of relief. “For a moment there, I thought we were going to have fisticuffs.”

  “Or a gunfight.” McKinney chuckled.

  With an owlish look of surprise, Hudson said, “Ransom, you’re not armed, are you?”

  “Damn right I am,” McKinney answered. “I never go anywhere without packing iron. I learned that lesson a long time ago.” He pulled back his coat to reveal the gleaming ivory handle of a small revolver resting in a shoulder holster under his arm.

  “How about you, Browning?” McKinney asked.

  “I came to eat dinner, not trade shots with anybody,” Conrad replied . . . which didn’t really answer the question.

  In fact, he had a short-barreled .32 tucked into a holster under his coat at the small of his back, the same sort of rig Bat Masterson had been wearing in the Palace the night before. Conrad had been carrying the .32 then, as well, but he hadn’t needed it since Masterson was there.

  “Let’s all settle down,” Hudson suggested. “I’m glad this was just a misunderstanding.”

  The room was big enough that some of the guests hadn’t even been aware of the confrontation. Those who were had gone back to their socializing.

  Hudson went on, “Ransom, could we talk to you for a moment?”

  “You mean you and Browning?” McKinney shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

  The three of them headed for a quiet corner. Hudson said, “Ransom, do you remember when I was asking you earlier about a woman named Pamela Tarleton?”

  “Sure I do.” McKinney tossed back his drink and grinned. “She’s a little spitfire, that one. Mighty good looker, too. I wonder if she’ll come back to Denver one of these days.”

  “That’s very unlikely,” Conrad said. “She’s dead.”

  McKinney’s fingers closed so tightly on the glass Conrad was sure it would shatter. Breathing harshly and obviously upset, McKinney said, “What do you mean, she’s dead?”

  “She was killed about a year and a half ago. It was an accident.” Conrad didn’t mention that she had been trying to kill him at the time.

  “That doesn’t hardly seem possible,” McKinney muttered. “She was so full of life when she was here . . .” He stared down into his empty glass for a moment like he was remembering, then lifted his eyes to Conrad. “How did you know her?”

  “I was engaged to her at one time.”

  “Really?” McKinney shook his head. “She didn’t mention anything about that. Hell, I’m sorry for your loss, Browning. I didn’t know anything about it.”

  He still didn’t, Conrad thought. Pamela’s death hadn’t been a loss for him. It had been justice of a sort . . . an unsatisfying sort, because Rebel was still gone.

  And so were his children, although he had known nothing about them at the time. Putting his mind back on the matter at hand, he said, “That’s all right. How did the two of you meet?”

  “I saw her in a restaurant here in town one night, having dinner by herself. She looked lonely, so I went over and asked her if she’d like some company. I could tell by looking at her that she was a mighty fine lady. I’m just an old cattleman with a lot of the bark still on me, but I’ve never been one to sit back and wait when I see something worth going after.” McKinney paused. “No offense.”

  “None taken. We weren’t engaged at the time. What happened?”

  “Well, the two of us hit it off. I was quite a bit older than her, and like I said, rough as a cob compared to her, but she said she enjoyed talking to me. She suggested we get together again while she was in town, so we did. We had dinner a few more times.” McKinney shrugged again. “But that’s all that happened, Browning. I give you my word on that.”

  Conrad waved that away. “How long did she stay here?”

  “A week, maybe ten days. Then she said she had to travel to San Francisco.” McKinney sighed. “I never saw her again after that.”

  “And she was alone, you said?”

  “That’s right. I never saw anybody else with her.” The rancher frowned. “I’ve been answering your questions, Browning, but I’ve got to admit I’m curious. Just what is it you’re after?”

  “I’m just trying to clear up . . . a family matter. I’m sorry. I’m really not at liberty to say any more.”

  For a second McKinney looked like he was going to lose his temper again, but then he said, “All right. I suppose I can accept that. Don’t reckon I have any choice but to accept it.”

  “Thanks.” Conrad nodded.

  “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, that’s all. I’m obliged to you for your help, McKinney.”

  The rancher gave Conrad a curt nod but didn’t say anything else. He headed back over to the men he’d been talking to earlier.

  Conrad and Hudson stayed where they were for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Hudson said. “I was hoping he could tell us something about the children. But just because Pamela didn’t mention them to him, doesn’t mean that they weren’t here in town with her.”

  “I know. She was traveling with a nurse, so it’s possible the nurse was taking care of them whenever Pamela met with McKinney.” Conrad paused. “He seems a strange sort to show up at one of your dinner parties.”

  “He’s definitely rough around the edges, like he said. But he’s a client, and it seems to be important to him that he at least try to fit in. To be honest, though, he seems like he’d be a lot more at home in some place like the gambling room of the Palace Theater.”

  Conrad chuckled. “As a matter of fact, that’s where we met last night.”

  “Really?” Hudson asked, his eyebrows arching.

  “I’m afraid I’m a lot more disreputable character than I used to be, Ellery.”

  “I doubt that. Not that you used to be disreputable, that’s not what I mean—”

  Conrad held up a hand to stop him. “We’d better go see how your wife and Rose are getting along. Violet may not appreciate being left to manage the masquerade on her own.”

  “She doesn’t mind,” Hudson assured him. “I told her your story, and she was eager to help.”

  They found Violet Hudson and Rose Sullivan on the other side of the room. Rose was smiling and looked like she was having a wonderful time. She clutched Conrad’s arm and whispered, “Thank you for bringing me tonight. I’ve always dreamed of being in a place like this, associating with fine people like these.”

  “I’m sure you’re a fine person yourself.”

  “Nothing like this.”

  A few minutes later, a servant called everyone to dinner. The table in the dining room was long, covered with a snowy cloth of fine linen, and set with beautiful china and crystal. The food was excellent, the wine was even better, and Conrad should have been enjoying the meal.

  Instead he kept thinking about the things Rance McKinney had said about Pamela. He glanced along the table at the rancher, who was with a beautiful woman with midnight-black hair. Conrad didn’t know her.

  McKinney’s words had carried the ring of truth, but Conrad’s instincts told him there was more to the story, something McKinney hadn’t told him about the time he had spent with Pamela. Ellery Hudson had talked to all the other guests and had come up empty. Conrad trusted the lawyer. The only lead they had was McKinney, and even though the rancher seemed to be a dead end, for some reason Conrad didn’t believe that.

  He wanted to know more, which meant he was going to have to figure out some way to spend more time with McKinney. That prospect didn’t appeal to him at all.

  When dinner was over, everyone went back into the other room for brandy and dancing. A group of musicians played softly and skillfully. When Rose asked in a slightly breathless voice if they could dance, Conrad didn’t have the heart to refuse her. They swept around the room in a waltz, and he had to admit she was a good dancer, very graceful and light on her feet.

  Her beauty made her popula
r, too, and when one of the male guests cut in, Conrad let her go. She smiled and wiggled her fingers at him as the man twirled her away. She was having the night of her life, and Conrad was glad for that.

  As for himself, he sought out Ellery Hudson again. When he had the lawyer off to the side where they could talk quietly, he said, “I think McKinney knows more than he’s telling us.”

  “Conrad, you heard him. He had dinner a few times with Pamela. That’s all. If there actually was more between them . . . well, knowing those details isn’t really going to help anything, is it?”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. I just have a hunch he’s not telling us the truth. Not all of it, anyway.” Conrad stroked his chin as he frowned in thought. “Bat Masterson told me that McKinney is quite a card player. Maybe I need to sit in on a game with him.”

  Hudson looked around as if he was afraid he was going to be overheard. “I think McKinney plans to play in that big tournament Masterson is putting together.”

  “Wait a minute. Bat said something to me about a high-stakes game, but he didn’t say anything about a tournament.”

  “It’s going to be thirty or forty of the biggest high rollers this side of San Francisco. I’ve heard a lot of gossip about it. It’s supposed to last for several days, maybe as long as a week, depending on how long it takes to narrow down the field to the top four players.”

  Conrad felt his interest growing. “Bat didn’t say anything about that. McKinney’s going to play?”

  “That’s what I’ve heard. A man who likes to gamble as much as he does, I don’t see how he could resist.”

  “No, I don’t, either.”

  “If you really think he can tell you more about Pamela, that would be a way to get closer to him, Conrad. You can learn a lot about a man over a poker table.”

  Conrad nodded slowly. “You certainly can.”

  “I’ve heard that the buy-in is going to be awfully steep, though. Ten thousand dollars is the rumor.”

  “I can handle that,” Conrad said with a little laugh.