The Intruders

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “Of course.”

  Hagen beamed. “Never let it be said that Adam Hagen is not civic-minded.”

  Mayor Welch got up first and opened the door for Emily, followed by Rhoades. “Even if this doctor is everything you say he is, it doesn’t change my opinion of you, Hagen. If you brought him here, it’s to serve your own purpose. I don’t know what that is yet and I hazard to guess what it is. Just remember that the longer this goes on, the more powerful Mike Albertson and his marchers become. You might not like dealing with me, but if he manages to get himself named mayor, you’ll be sorry.”

  “Mike Albertson will never be mayor of Blackstone,” Hagen said. “On that, you have my solemn promise.”

  But Mayor Welch was not through. “I’ll be taking this matter up with the county at our meeting next week, and I’ll use every ounce of influence I have to have them move against you.”

  Hagen remained seated and gave the politician his best smile. “As you only have an ounce of influence to use, I suggest you use it wisely, Jonah.”

  Emily gathered her shawl around her and left the jail, with a perturbed Mayor Welch and Rich Rhoades close behind.

  That left only Hagen and Trammel together in the jail. The sounds of the ailing prisoners now seemed louder than they had before.

  Trammel looked at him but said nothing. If looks could talk, the sheriff’s expression had nothing nice to say.

  Hagen threw open his hands. “What did I do now?”

  “Get up,” he said as he grabbed his hat off his desk. “You and me are going for a walk.”

  But Hagen did not get up. “A civilized walk, remember.”

  “As civilized as a stroll through Union Square on a spring day.” Trammel pulled his hat onto his head. “Now get going.”

  Hagen saw no reason why he should not comply.

  CHAPTER 13

  The sun had already begun to settle in for the night and cast wide ribbons of blue and pink across the sky. Night was on its way, but this day looked like it was going to give ground in spectacular fashion.

  Trammel normally did not like to leave the prisoners alone but figured this was a good exception. He needed to talk to Hagen in private and Trammel could not abide hearing those men suffer any longer than he already had. He did not consider himself an especially compassionate man, but he hated seeing people suffer. He hated it even worse when it was their own doing that put them in such a state.

  He steered Hagen to walk behind Main Street, walking behind the buildings and along the edge of town. The only structure that stretched this far back was the canvas of the laudanum den.

  It was the reason why Trammel had chosen this route. “Place has expanded some.”

  “Don’t tell me this is the first time you’ve noticed,” Hagen said. “You don’t miss much and you certainly didn’t miss that.”

  “Never claimed otherwise,” Trammel said. “I stood right there and watched your Celestials set it up. They’re an efficient bunch, I’ll give them that.”

  “They’re efficient when there’s something in it for them,” Hagen said. “They’re no different from anyone else in that regard.”

  “What’s in it for you, Adam?” Trammel looked at him as they walked. “I mean it. Besides money, what are you doing this for? The laudanum, I mean. It can’t be about money. It’s causing more trouble than it’s worth. The mayor was right about Albertson. His march last week had fifty people, and they weren’t all from town either. People came down from the hills. Miners’ wives and some up from Laramie, too. The next one will be even bigger.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Hagen said. “More business for me after their march. Nothing like a shot of whiskey to make the long ride back to Laramie bearable.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Trammel said. “You already made a nice bundle with the saloons and the Clifford. Hell, I can even understand why you expanded Main Street and built all those new houses. You’re planning something. Word has it you’re thinking about building a lumber mill.”

  “Assuming this goes no further than the two of us,” Hagen said, “that’s exactly what I’m planning on doing.” He pointed at a spot past the end of New Main Street. “It’s going to be built right over there. Big enough to put fifty men to work, maybe more. It’ll change this town forever, Buck. I plan on making this place in my own image.”

  “Then why not give up the laudanum, Adam?” Trammel had tried threatening him and knew that did not work, so he gave sincerity a try. “Why pull down the same place you’re trying to build up? It doesn’t make any sense to me. You’re giving Blackstone a reputation that’ll be awfully tough for us to shake. I figure it’s got something to do with your fight with your father, but—”

  “My uncle, you mean,” Hagen corrected him. “The same one who tried to have me smothered to death?”

  “Your uncle,” Trammel agreed. “You know you can’t take him on, don’t you? Not directly. Not even if you and Clay are gobbling up all the mines in the area.”

  Hagen stopped walking. “So, you know about my gambit, eh?”

  Trammel stopped walking, too. “I’ve heard about it. Mostly from the men I’ve arrested when they sober up enough to talk. And if I know it, chances are your uncle knows it, too. He’s probably already working on a way to stop you.”

  “And he’ll fail.” Hagen resumed walking, and so did Trammel. “While he was distracted with his holdings elsewhere, I’ve snuck in and acquired all of the mines he doesn’t already control. I’ll be able to influence the market now, every bit as much as he can. He won’t be able to stop it. It’s only a matter of time before my production outpaces his. You’ll only find his workers in your jails. They don’t come to town to smoke. My miners smoke elsewhere.”

  Trammel caught that. Come to think of it, all the men in his cells did work for King Charles. “You give your miners their own supply?”

  “In a fashion,” Hagen allowed. “The Celestials have opened another den up in the hills, closer to the mines. Not as fancy as this canvas palace before you, but enough to get the job done, and without the same problems as Blackstone.”

  “Addled men are bad enough on horseback,” Trammel said. “Having dope sick men wandering around a mine is dangerous business.”

  “Indeed, it is,” Hagen agreed, “which is why they only get a quarter of the amount for the same price.”

  “Is that so?” Trammel said. “You crafty sidewinder.”

  “Shrewd is more like it. I own the claims they work and they get free laudanum as long as they work. It’s diluted, so they don’t get sick but remain bound to me. Everyone’s happy.”

  “So why not do the same thing in town?” Trammel asked. “Cut the amount you give people without cutting prices?”

  “Because it doesn’t serve my purposes,” Hagen told him. “Look, I’ve never had a poor opinion of you, Buck. I’ve never treated you poorly or insulted your intelligence. You’ve stuck by me in the past and have always been the better for it. I’m asking you to trust me now. I’ve brought Dr. Moore to Blackstone to treat the worst cases. He’s a good man and he’ll do what I’ve said he’ll do. But my purposes and methods are legal and my own doing. Please don’t press me any further on the subject. I don’t want any more difficulty between us than what already exists.”

  Trammel knew Hagen well enough to see he had already gotten as much truth out of him as he was liable to get. Pushing him for more would be a waste of time and result in a lot of hot air and verbal sparring Trammel knew he would likely lose. Hagen was as deadly with his mouth as he was with his gun, even if his right arm was damaged.

  “I know you won’t tell me what you’re planning against your uncle and I’m not going to waste my time trying to find out,” Trammel said. “But whatever it is better not mean killing. Because if it does, you and me are going to find ourselves on opposite sides again. And I wouldn’t like that.”

  “Neither would I,” Hagen said.

  They pass
ed by the back of the canvas tent. The stench of laudanum smoke turned Trammel’s stomach. “Wouldn’t like to have to kill you if I could avoid it.”

  Hagen kicked aside a rock in his path. “Same here.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Trammel let Hagen walk into the Gilded Lily on his own. He would come back later to see Lilly once he knew Hawkeye was ready to take control of the prisoners. He planned on letting a bunch of them go in the morning, which should cut down on the noise in the jail, not to mention the stench. Poor Hawkeye had to clean up a few times a day, which was no pleasant task, but nothing Trammel had not done many times in his day. As he told the young man when he pinned the deputy star on his chest, the job had its ugly side, too.

  As night slowly settled over Blackstone, he was glad to see almost all was in order. No one was lingering on the boardwalks. The Vic and the Brand were doing a good but quiet business. He looked through the window of the new doctor’s office and saw the mayor and Emily in close conversation by lamplight. He hoped Adam was not lying about Moore handling the laudanum smokers. The town needed the help. It was just like Adam to provide the answer for a problem he had started. He was a gambler who preferred to control the outcome whenever he could. Sometimes he admired his former friend for his cleverness. But that admiration disappeared quickly when he had to haul another of his clients out off the street and into the cells. At this rate, Trammel was going to have to ask Mayor Welch for money to expand the jail. He did not want to do that, for to do so would be giving in to the problem. Trammel had hoped that once word spread about the miserable conditions of the jail, smokers would think twice before risking a night behind bars.

  But he knew the allure of the dragon was stronger than any fear a jail might have once a man’s cravings kicked in. He would make a point of asking Welch for that expansion money the next time he saw him.

  By the time he reached the jail, he found Hawkeye had already finished with his latest round of cleaning. The place smelled decent for once, almost clean.

  “What’s that smell?” Trammel asked as he closed the door behind him.

  “Mint!” the young deputy exclaimed. He was quite happy with himself. “Mrs. Welch gave me the idea yesterday. Said you fill a bucket of water and drop in some mint leaves, cover it, and let it sit overnight. So that’s what I did, and it works great. I don’t think the place has ever smelled better.”

  Trammel only wished Mrs. Welch used the same trick at her own place. He had been staying there since things had cooled between him and Emily. The air inside was always humid and musty. His window did not open, and he was tempted to break out a pane or two just to air the place out a bit. “I’ll tell her that you put her idea to good use.”

  “I’m thinking I might use some other flowers next time,” Hawkeye said. “Maybe change the smell up some.”

  Trammel smiled as he took his seat behind the desk. That was Hawkeye. Give him a task or an idea and he threw himself into it.

  That’s when he saw the notice on his desk. “What’s this?”

  “Someone was handing that out on the street when I was coming here,” Hawkeye said. “Figured you’d want to see it. They’re supposed to start hanging them up all over town tomorrow.”

  Trammel read the notice out loud, not that it made him feel any better. “‘Come One, Come All, to Prevent Blackstone’s Fall! March on Dens of Inequity This Saturday Afternoon. All Committed to Fighting Evil are Welcome.’” Trammel set the notice back on his desk and asked Hawkeye, “Who gave you this?”

  “Mrs. Higgins was handing them out in front of Robertson’s store. She only had a few left, but I made sure I got the last one. Like I said, they’ll be posting them all over town tomorrow.”

  “All over the territory is more like it,” Trammel said to himself. That notice spelled bad news for him. The march with fifty people had been tough enough for him and Hawkeye to cover. A march like this could stir up twice that amount. Suffragettes and people from the temperance movement were bound to show up, too. People loved nothing more than a chance to get together and yell about something. He had seen his fair share of marches turn ugly in Manhattan and Chicago. “You see Albertson anywhere while Mrs. Higgins was giving these out?”

  Hawkeye thought about it. “Can’t say as I did. I haven’t seen him in a couple of days, come to think of it.”

  And now that he thought of it, neither had Trammel. He wondered why that was. What could a retired freighter possibly do inside all day long? He was not a drinker. He never frequented the saloons, and he had never heard anyone say they had seen him buy a bottle, much less drink. Mrs. Higgins was a temperance woman from way back. He doubted she would allow him to have any liquor in her house.

  Trammel got up from his desk and took the flyer with him. “I’m going to find Albertson and put a stop to this nonsense,” he told Hawkeye. “Lock the door behind me.”

  * * *

  It was already full-on dark by the time he walked over to Mrs. Higgins’s house. It was a delicate-looking place with a white picket fence in the front and a tended lawn all around it. The house was white and the shutters were blue, though it was tough to see this detail at this time of night.

  Soft oil light cast easy shadows on the ground around the property, making it easier to find in the dark. He knocked loudly on her front door, knowing her hearing was not what it once was.

  She opened the door, scowling. “No need to pound like that, Sheriff. I’m not deaf.”

  He shook his head. He had managed to annoy just about everyone he had met that day. “Sorry about that, Mrs. Higgins. And I’m sorry to bother you like this, but I’d like to have a word with Mr. Albertson.”

  “I’m sorry, too, young man. About your manners and about Mr. Albertson. He’s not here.”

  “Not here?” Trammel repeated. “Well, do you know where I could find him?”

  “He’s doing the Lord’s work wherever he is,” Mrs. Higgins said proudly. “He’s a blessing, that man is. A true blessing. I’m sure you know about the march we’re planning on Saturday. We’re expecting a lot of people to come out to denounce the wickedness you’ve allowed to descend on this town.”

  Trammel was disappointed Albertson was not at home but decided he might be able to use that to his advantage. “I was hoping you might let me take a look in his room for a moment.”

  “I most certainly will not,” she said with a fair amount of iron in her voice. “He is a good man. Pays his rent on time and has never given me a lick of trouble. He even pays more rent than he needs to when he can. Blackstone should have more men like him instead of men like you, who just strut around all day with big words, doing nothing.”

  Trammel hung his head. He was getting the strap from everyone today, even from old Mrs. Higgins.

  But then a thought came to him. “I was actually hoping to get a look at his room as a favor to you, Mrs. Higgins.”

  “My benefit?” she asked. “How could you searching his room benefit me?”

  “Well, I was hoping I didn’t have to mention it, but there have been some nasty rumors spreading around about Mr. Albertson. The kind of rumors that cast you in a bad light.”

  The old gossip’s eyes narrowed. “What rumors? I’ve heard nothing but praise for Mr. Albertson.”

  “The kind of rumors that don’t circulate in refined circles, ma’am. Rumors that involve a delight in the consumption of spirits.”

  “Never!” She rose to her full height of five feet. “Not a drop of liquor has passed this threshold since my Thaddeus died, God have mercy on his besotted soul.”

  “I don’t pay them any mind myself,” Trammel said. “But I’d hate for anyone to be able to drag your name through the mud. That’s why if you’d allow me to just take a quick look at his room, I’ll be able to put those ugly rumors to rest before they take root.”

  She hesitated for a moment, and Trammel took the opportunity to ease past her into the house. “You know what they say about weeds and all. Now, if you cou
ld just tell me which room is his, I’ll be out of here in no time at all.”

  She was so taken by the hint of a scandal that might involve her that she forgot all about her protest. “It’s the first door on the right at the top of the stairs. But you won’t find anything, I assure you. And don’t you go making a mess, now. Mr. Albertson is mighty particular about how his things are kept.”

  Trammel took the stairs two at a time and found Albertson’s door unlocked. He opened the door and saw that Mrs. Higgins was right. He kept everything nice and orderly. Perhaps too orderly. At first glance, it looked like no one lived there.

  He left the door open as he began a quick search of the place. He checked under the bed and saw it was clear. Not even so much as a ball of dust.

  He got up and moved to the dresser. Each drawer only had an article or two of clothing. No one would ever accuse Albertson of being a dandy, but he’d expected him to have more clothes than these. Strange.

  He moved to the wardrobe next and opened it. Only a few shirts and a pair of pants. Not even an extra coat or boots.

  On the top shelf of the wardrobe, he saw a pile of neatly stacked newspapers. Trammel thought they were probably copies of the Blackstone Bugle that featured some of the marches he had organized. Even the righteous liked to see their names in print. He took one down and saw it was not the Bugle, but a copy of the Laramie Ledger. And it was dated from the day before. Trammel took down some of the other papers, all of them from Laramie and all of them from the previous month. He knew he did not have time to read through each paper, but the fact that Albertson had them at all was strange enough. Blackstone only carried the Laramie Daily.

  That meant Albertson had been to Laramie fairly frequently. Or had someone who kept the newspapers for him. But why would a Blackstone rabble-rouser care about what happened in Laramie? And why would he visit the place so often?

  Trammel put the papers back in order and closed the wardrobe as he had found it. He moved to the nightstand beside the bed next and began opening drawers. Besides the King James Version, there was nothing of interest.