That’s when he noticed one of the floorboards beneath the dresser had risen up. Trammel figured it might’ve happened while he’d been trying to get one of the drawers open. The board hadn’t split, but popped aside cleanly. Like it had been loosened before at some point and put back into place.
Trammel shoved the dresser aside and took a knee beside the loose plank. He lifted it up and saw a thin cloth bag had been placed in the floor beneath it. He reached in and pulled it out, realizing the book was actually a ledger of some kind. He opened the ledger and saw a series of names and amounts and dates, none of which made sense to him. The letters were English, but the words were not. He had run into this sort of thing on a couple of cases he had worked on as a Pinkerton. He wondered if they were written in some kind of code.
But it had made sense to someone. And he had no doubt the contents of this ledger were probably the reason why Bonner had been so eager to get out of town. Not only did he have debt. He had knowledge. And knowledge could be a dangerous thing.
“What were you into, Bonner?”
Trammel flipped through the pages some more, hoping some explanation of what they contained might become clear to him. But they didn’t. He shut the book and slipped it back into the bag. He replaced the floorboard, but took the ledger with him when he left.
* * *
Although he wanted to see more of the town that was now under his protection, Trammel also wanted to get the ledger somewhere safe. Unfortunately, he didn’t know too many safe places in town, but he knew someone who might. Adam Hagen.
Trammel had turned the corner on Main Street, intent on visiting Hagen at the Clifford Hotel when he saw a crowd of men moving in and out of the jail. He saw men lift the old desk onto a wagon and the chair right along with it.
He dodged past an oncoming wagon and a cluster of riders heading his way as he ran across Main Street toward the jail.
“What the hell is going on here?”
The men cleared a path for him as Trammel shoved his way into the jail. He was surprised to find Adam Hagen sitting in a leather chair with his feet up on a dark wood desk.
Town life appeared to agree with Hagen. Even though he had only been in town for a short amount of time, his hair had been cut, his beard neatly trimmed into a fashionable goatee and he sported new clothes. A black suit, a white shirt, a black brocade vest, and shiny black boots. “Forgive me, Buck, but I took it upon myself to freshen things up a bit. After all, if Blackstone is going to change its image, it has to do so from top to bottom. The jail, I’m afraid, is the bottom.”
Trammel noticed that, in addition to the new desk and chair, a proper rifle cabinet had been hung on the wall. It was also made of dark wood, matching the desk. “How’d you get in here?”
Hagen pointed to a set of keys on the desk. “Father always insists on having a key to every lock in town, and the jail is no exception. But I intend on leaving those keys with you as you’re now the new sheriff.”
The ledger under his coat felt a bit heavier now. First Bonner leaves suddenly and without the ledger he’d gone to great lengths to hide. Why? And how did he get hold of it? Now, the jail gets redone while he wasn’t there. It was all too neat for Trammel’s taste. In Trammel’s world, nothing was ever neat by accident.
He looked at the workman around the jail. “Everyone out. Now.”
The workers cleared out as they were ordered. The last one left the door open and Trammel shut it. “You’re going to tell me what’s really going on here, and you’re going to tell me right now.”
“There’s no reason to be cross, Buck,” Hagen said. “New sheriff means a new office. It’s just some stuff I found in the Clifford Hotel basement anyway. And you needed a real rifle rack anyway. That other one was barely a broom closet.”
“I’m not talking about the damned furniture,” Trammel said. “I’m talking about all the odd crap that’s been happening since the moment we got to town. Why’d Bonner just up and leave like that? Did Bookman tell him to do that?”
“Ah, that?” the gambler said. “Well, I’ll admit I was as taken aback by that as you were, but as you know, I had nothing to do with it. That was all Bookman’s doing. On orders from my father, of course. I knew something must be up when he sent Bookman along with us. He relishes playing the heavy and does all of Father’s dirty work for him. I think he told Bonner to get out of town before he fed him to this Madam Peachtree.”
Hagen threw his head back and laughed. “I’ve already heard of her. The real name is Pinochet. The local idiots around here simply can’t pronounce her real name and ‘Peachtree’ is as close as they could come. I look forward to meeting her, though. Sounds like my kind of woman.”
Trammel didn’t care about that just then. “Why’d your old man sour on Bonner?”
Hagen shrugged. “Father’s a fitful man. His gambling probably had something to do with it. It could also be because his boots weren’t as shiny as he thought they should be. Or because he just felt like making a change.” An idea seemed to dawn on him. “Ah, I get it. You’re angry he didn’t tell you first, aren’t you? Well, you shouldn’t take it personally, and you’d better get used to it. Father’s not in the habit of speaking his mind until he’s ready. He always has his reasons, whether or not we agree with them. And more often than not, he’s usually right.”
Everything Hagen had said made sense to Trammel. The elder Hagen didn’t seem the type who took many people into his confidence. He moved slow and steady and, when Trammel came along, he saw his chance to move Bonner out. Trammel only wished Mr. Hagen had told him about it first, but that obviously wasn’t his way.
Trammel remembered the ledger under his coat. He thought about showing it to Hagen to see if he could make sense of it. But he decided to have another look at it first before sharing it with anyone. He knew he wasn’t a smart man, but he wasn’t a dumb man, either.
“I appreciate the new stuff, Adam. I really do. I’m just trying to get used to all of this.” He pointed at the star on his chest. “And this, too. Kind of got out of the habit of thinking of myself as a lawman anymore.”
Hagen uncrossed his legs and stood up. “That’s understandable, but here’s something else to remember. Father’s an excellent judge of character.”
Trammel wished that made him feel better. “You know, we’ve still got Lefty and his men on our trail.”
“I doubt it.” Hagen patted him on his arm as he made his way to the door. “They’ve probably drunk themselves half to death in Dodge City by now. If they aren’t dead, they’re probably dead broke and on their way back to Wichita with powerful hangovers. I don’t think we’ve much to fear from them.”
Trammel ran a hand along the new desk. It sure was nice. “That makes one of us.”
“You’ll see things in a better light after a good meal and a good night’s sleep. I’ve secured you a room on the ground floor of the Clifford. It’s a hell of a lot nicer than the hovel over at the Oakwood Arms. Stop by the front desk and they’ll give you the key to your room. And you’ll find plenty of ammunition in the rifle cabinet, too, just in case your one-eyed friend is foolish enough to pay us a visit.”
Hagen shut the door behind him when he left. Trammel threw the bolt across the door and dumped the ledger on his desk and dropped into the chair. Hagen had been right. The new furniture was a big improvement over the ratty old stuff that had been there before. He pulled open the bottom drawer and found it was deeper than the others. It also had a lock with a key in it. A perfectly good place to store the ledger from Bonner’s place.
He pulled the ledger from the satchel and began reading it, hoping it would make more sense in more refined surroundings.
CHAPTER 24
Lefty Hanover pocketed the money as soon as the Boss Lomax handed it to him.
“Ain’t you going to count it?” Lomax asked him.
Lefty played it humble. “No, sir. I trust you. You’ve got an honest face, and you was real good to take on
me and the boys back in Dodge City like you done.”
“It’s me who should be thanking you,” Lomax said. “Never could’ve finished the drive without you. Still can’t figure why them boys disappeared the way they did. They was always reliable fellas. Guess the drink must’ve gotten the better of them.”
Lefty knew why Lomax’s men had disappeared. He even knew where they were buried. But he decided to keep that part to himself. “I’ve been drivin’ cattle for as long as I could walk, Mr. Lomax, and if there’s one thing I learned in all those years, it’s that there’s just no way to figure folks. Even the most seasoned hand can go wild when they get a taste of women and whiskey after a long time on the trail.”
“Well you saved our hides for certain.” Lomax looked around Lefty at the four men behind him. “That goes for all of you boys. That’s why I gave you the wages coming to those who left us. You can ride with this outfit any time.”
The men grumbled their thanks, but Lefty spoke the loudest. “Thank you, sir, but we’ve got other business to tend to in Ogallala. I’ve no doubt we’ll be seein’ you again somewhere on the trail.”
Parrot, Chico, Skinner, and Hooch collected their wages and bid their good-byes to Boss Lomax as they ambled into Ogallala proper.
Skinner nudged Lefty. “Listen to you, shining on that old fool like that.”
Lefty grinned. “A con ain’t done until it’s all the way done, right up to and includin’ the payout. There’s liable to be talk about them missin’ men when Lomax gets back to Dodge, and I don’t want him thinkin’ unkindly of us.”
Chico spat into the street. “Hell, we buried those boys so deep, the worms probably haven’t reached them yet.”
“We fell under Bassett’s gaze, boys. There’s no harm in playin’ it humble and leavin’ a good impression in Lomax’s mind.”
“Humble,” Parrot agreed.
“Where to now?” Hooch asked. “I take it you haven’t changed your mind about Trammel.”
Lefty ran his fingers over the coins in his pocket. No, he hadn’t changed his mind about Trammel. In fact, every hardship and miserable night they’d endured on the long trail from Dodge City to Ogallala had made his hatred for the big man grow even more from each day to the next. His empty eye socket ached mightily on cold nights, and there were plenty of cold nights out on the prairie. There were times when he thought the agony would rob him of all his remaining sense entirely.
But the fierce pain only deepened his resolve to find the man who had done this to him. To find him and make him hurt a long time before he let him die.
“No,” Lefty answered the question. “I haven’t changed my mind. Ain’t goin’ to change it, either.”
“So what’re we going to do now?” asked Chico. “Want us to fan out and see if him or that Hagen fella are still here?”
But Lefty already knew what he wanted them to do. “You boys stay together. Take a walk around town and try to spot them. Men of Trammel’s size and of Hagen’s appetites are bound to stick out. You can settle on one place if you want, but don’t spend all that money in your pocket, you hear? We’re gonna be needin’ it before long.”
Skinner asked, “What’ll you be doing while we’re doing all this walking around?”
Lefty removed a faded piece of paper from his pocket. The original newspaper article about the rescued women from the Dodge City paper. “Goin’ to see a man about some answers.”
* * *
Lefty pulled the reporter’s head out of the rain bucket and threw the man against the building. He looked around the alley to see if anyone had heard the struggle, but everyone seemed to be going about their business.
He loomed over him, watching him gasp for breath. “Damn it, boy. I told you I want the truth and I aim to get it or drown you tryin’.”
When Richard Rhoades, reporter for the Ogallala Bugle, finally caught his wind, he said, “I swear to the Almighty God I don’t know about the sheriff asking about any dead men in Kansas. Do you want me to lie and make something up?”
Lefty stuck the faded newsprint in the man’s face. “You wrote that story, didn’t you? About some fancy man who rescued them ladies a few weeks back? Where’s that fancy man now?”
“I don’t know, damn you. I only spoke to him for a few minutes and he refused to give me his name. All I know is that he drank at a couple of saloons because everyone wanted to buy him drinks. He kept giving people different names, and I swear I can’t remember any of them now. All I know is he disappeared a day or so after he brought those women to town. No one has seen him since. That’s the God’s honest truth. Why would I lie?”
“Because he paid you.” Lefty grabbed Rhoades by the collar and pulled him to his feet. “Just like he paid off your sheriff to let him go. Probably paid you to keep his right name out of the paper, too.”
“No one paid me anything,” the reporter moaned. “I’d tell you if I knew anything. Why would I hold it back?”
Lefty ignored the cold feeling spreading in his belly. He was beginning to believe the scribbler was telling the truth. That was a bad sign. The reporter was the best chance he had at getting the unvarnished truth about where Trammel and Hagen had gone. He and the boys could work the saloons, of course, but Lefty knew a drunk would say just about anything for a drink. He didn’t need stories. He needed facts.
“Where’d they go when they left?” He shook Rhoades hard when the reporter began to tell him he didn’t know. “I’m talkin’ about rumors, boy. Whispers, maybe. A town this size, people are bound to talk about something like that.”
Rhoades shook some water from his head like a wet dog. “I heard a couple of rumors that people saw him and some big fella getting on the westbound train, but I don’t know that for certain. The stationmaster said they had tickets to Laramie, but don’t hold me to it. Please! It’s just a rumor!”
Lefty relaxed his grip on the man’s collar and let the man breathe. Laramie. It was too specific a place to just be a rumor, so he had to put some stock in its accuracy. But he had to be sure.
He shook Rhoades again. “And that’s it? No other rumors about where they went?”
“Some said he just rode off one day, but I never saw him again, so the train makes the most sense. But again, please don’t—”
Lefty released him with a shove and watched him fall to the ground. “Don’t say you can’t be certain again or I’ll kick your teeth in. And don’t go reportin’ this to the sheriff, neither. This here was a peaceful discussion between the two of us, understand?”
“Peaceful?” Rhoades wrung out the lapel of his soaking jacket. “You call this peaceful?”
Lefty produced the bowie knife he kept tucked on his belt. “I can make them your final words if you want.”
The reporter’s eyes widened as he looked at the blade glinting in the sunlight. “Peaceful. Sure. Peaceful.”
Lefty tucked the blade back into his belt and left the alley. He had to find the others.
They had a train to catch.
CHAPTER 25
Trammel woke with a start the next morning. It took him a few seconds to realize he had fallen asleep at his desk in the jail, facedown in the ledger.
He had no idea what time it was, but judging by the light filtering in through the windows, it wasn’t much past dawn.
His back and neck ached when he tried to sit up. His bones cracked as he stood and tried to stretch some life into his tired body. Get the blood flowing again.
If he hadn’t known better, Trammel would’ve thought he was suffering a hangover from too much whiskey. But he hadn’t touched a drop since coming to Blackstone. His stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything, either.
No, he felt this way from too much reading. He remembered spending the better part of the afternoon and previous evening trying to make sense of the ledger he had found in Bonner’s room.
No one had ever accused Buck Trammel of being good at math, but he knew his troubles with deciphering the ledg
er had nothing to do with numbers. It was because most of the entries were written in some kind of code. The letters were English, but the words weren’t. They were spelled differently and had funny markings on them. The numbers in the right-hand column were clear enough, but he couldn’t tell what they were for.
Whatever they were, they were important enough for Bonner to hide. And it might’ve been part of the reason why he was so damned anxious to leave town so fast. Figure out the words and the numbers will make sense.
But he knew he wouldn’t be making sense of anything until he had some food and coffee in his belly. He went over to the old stove next to the desk and found the coffeepot empty. He checked around for coffee grinds, but found nothing. “Sidewinder didn’t leave me much, did he?” Trammel said to the empty room.
He remembered Hagen had told him he had a room waiting for him at the Clifford Hotel. He decided now might be a good time to get acquainted with his new place and find himself something to eat.
He locked the ledger in the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled his coat off the back of his chair. He rolled his left shoulder to try to get some feeling in it. Sleeping on a desk with a gun strapped under his arm didn’t make for the best circulation.
He looked up when he heard pounding on the jailhouse door. When he opened it, he found Smith the liveryman standing on the other side in a frantic state. Trammel got a bad feeling when he saw his horse was already tied to the hitching rail.
“You’d better come quick, Sheriff. A fella says he found a dead body on the road to town.”
Trammel shut the door behind him. It looked like breakfast was going to have to wait.
* * *
“It’s right up here, Sheriff,” the toothless man told him. “You can see the buzzards already hoverin’.”
Trammel made sure to ride several paces behind the stranger who was leading him to the spot of the dead body. He didn’t know this man and, from what he saw of him, he didn’t like him. His guide was a toothless old codger with one foot in the grave. His ratty clothes hung off him like a skeleton, and he reeked of tobacco juice and stale rotgut. His gray beard was as bushy as it was matted, and his moth-eaten hat looked as old as the man wearing it.
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