Trammel didn’t know how much of the man’s word he could trust, but he saw the buzzards circling overhead.
“You said you spotted the body after first light?” Trammel asked.
“No sir,” the man said. “I spotted them buzzards. Heard ’em is more like it. They was squawking and fightin’ somethin’ fierce when I rode along. I saw them pulling at somethin’ I figured might be good for a pelt. But when I got close enough, my horse here reared up on me. That’s when I realized it was no dead wolf or coyote but a man.” He patted the horse’s neck. “Old Sunshine here’s always been a bit skittish around blood.”
Trammel wasn’t all that familiar with the life and death of wildlife on the prairie, but he knew plenty about death in general. And as he rode closer to where the buzzards had settled, his own horse tried to pull away.
Now that he was close enough to see the body for himself, there was no questioning that the dead body was definitely human. He climbed down from the saddle and handed the reins to the man. “What do they call you, anyway?”
“Elmer, when they ain’t callin’ me other things.”
“Well, don’t go riding off without me, Elmer, and we’ll get along just fine.”
“Got nowhere to be so I’ve got no call to go ridin’ off anywhere. Take as much time as you need, and me and Old Sunshine’ll be right here waitin’ for you.”
The buzzards squawked at Trammel as he got closer. They had already begun feeding on the body and weren’t eager to give up their meal. Trammel drew his Colt and fired over their heads, scattering the scavengers.
Trammel slid the Colt back into his holster as he approached the corpse. Judging from what the buzzards had left behind, he recognized the body even though he had only seen it briefly in life.
It was the former Sheriff Bonner. And although it was difficult to be sure after the birds had been picking at him, Trammel was pretty certain he’d been shot twice in the back.
Elmer sat proudly on his old dairy horse. “I was right, weren’t I? It was a human, weren’t it?”
He decided the less the old drunk knew, the better. “You were right. Say, I’m new to town. You got a doctor or an undertaker or someone like that?”
“Our doctor is our undertaker, Sheriff. And a right pretty one at that.”
A woman doctor? Blackstone, Wyoming, just got more peculiar with each passing minute. “I’m going to need you to ride back into town and get her. Or at least get a wagon of some kind so I can bring him back to town for examination.”
Elmer handed Trammel the reins of his own horse back to him. “And if I can’t find one, I’ll get Smith to lend me one of them livery horses. We can just throw him over the saddle and bring him into town.”
Trammel looked back at the decomposed body. “He’d never make it that way. Just get the wagon like I told you.”
Elmer grumbled as he brought his horse about and headed back to town at a good trot. Trammel watched the old man until he dipped out of sight below a slight rise. He hoped the damned fool was good at following directions. Otherwise, he might be out here with his predecessor for quite a while.
“Damn it, Bonner,” he said to the prairie wind. “What did you get yourself into?”
A buzzard dropped next to the carcass and craned its neck as it cawed at Trammel. The sheriff drew his Colt and shot the scavenger dead.
He was glad he hadn’t lost his skill with a pistol. He was pretty sure he’d be needing it before long.
CHAPTER 26
“Well, this is a first.” Emily Downs looked at the corpse Elmer and Trammel had brought to her barn. “Two Blackstone sheriffs in the same place at the same time and one of them dead.”
Trammel heard the words, but was too distracted to pay much attention. Elmer had warned him the town doctor was pretty, but he hadn’t taken him seriously.
She had thick, sandy-brown hair that she wore in a bun and that framed a face of delicate features. She was taller than he had expected, though luckily enough, not as tall as him. She wasn’t heavy, though she wasn’t skinny, either. She moved with a purposeful grace that Trammel found appealing. Her hazel eyes were active, curious as she looked over Bonner’s corpse. Her right eyebrow rose as she took a closer look at the wounds in his chest and didn’t seem to mind the gore. Trammel judged her to be around thirty, but given how life in the West could age a woman early, imagined she might be a good deal younger.
She wasn’t as fancy or as pretty as Miss Lilly back in Wichita. Emily Downs was certainly a much plainer woman, but she also had a certain alertness about her that Lilly didn’t have. An alertness Trammel found strangely appealing.
Still bent over the corpse, she looked at Trammel. “He’s dead, you know?”
“I figured that part out myself.”
“So have the buzzards, as you can see.” She took a bedsheet from a shelf in the barn and threw it over Bonner’s corpse. “Surprised the coyotes didn’t get at him, though. That’s strange. They usually tear into anything as soon as it dies.”
Trammel hadn’t thought of that. “That tell you anything about when he died?”
Miss Downs shook her head. “Nope. Just means they didn’t get to him is all. I’d say he died as soon as he left town, though. And that’s just based on where you found him and when. But judging by those holes in his chest, I’d say he was already dead by the time the vermin got to him, which is something of a blessing. Sheriff Bonner wasn’t good for much, but he didn’t deserve to die like this. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Sheriff. We don’t get much call for inquests out here, and I’m not one for doing them. I dress them up and make it so their bodies don’t rot for a couple of days, but that’s about the extent of my skills.”
Trammel followed her out to the well outside the barn and watched her wash her hands. “Any idea who might’ve killed him? As a woman who lives in town, I mean, not as a doctor.”
She shook the water from her hands and dried them on the apron around her waist. “You’re the one with the star on his chest, Sheriff. That’s your job, not mine.”
Trammel felt himself begin to blush. “I’m new to the job. Guess I didn’t ask it right. I meant if you knew if Bonner had any enemies.”
She continued to dry her hands as she thought it over. “Not that I know of, but I’m not one for socializing. People tend to like to stay away from undertakers and doctors until they need them. I know he’d been good when he started, but had already begun to slack off when my husband and I got here three years ago.”
Trammel felt his heart sink a little. She didn’t have a ring on her finger, but he imagined one would get ruined if she did. It served him right for thinking such a woman wouldn’t have a husband somewhere. He decided to focus on Bonner instead. “Anybody ever say why he slacked off?”
“Nope, but I noticed he got a little lazier each year based on what little I saw. Started to let things slide, especially over at The Lion’s Den. I heard he was well paid to look the other way when trouble broke out in that place.”
Trammel hadn’t seen a saloon named The Lion’s Den when he’d ridden into town, but that didn’t matter. Bookman had said saloons and eating rooms changed names all the time in Blackstone.
“The Lion’s Den?” He played a hunch. “That Madam Peachtree’s place?”
She put her hands on her hips and smiled. “So you’ve already heard about her.”
Trammel shrugged. “Small town. New sheriff. People talk.”
“Well, her name’s not Peachtree, for one thing. She’s from France and her name is Pinochet. Amanda Pinochet. But the ignorant bunch who go into her place couldn’t say her name right and changed it to Peachtree.” She laughed as she shook her head. “Got to hand it to people out here, Sheriff. We aren’t much on culture, but we always find a way to make it work. By the way, she’s not a madam, either. Not in the way you’re probably used to the term in Wichita and New York. The Lion’s Den is strictly a gambling den and saloon. She’s also got an opium de
n in the back, but no one’s supposed to know about that except her special customers who pay extra for the privilege. Got herself a couple of Chinamen who run that part of the operation separate for her. Makes some good money off it, too.”
Trammel was beginning to like the young doctor, and not just because she was pretty. “For someone who says she’s not sociable, you know a lot. Especially about me. Who told you I was from New York and Wichita?”
“Small town, like you said.” She beckoned him to follow her into the house. “I’ll bet you haven’t had breakfast yet. My mother-in-law should have something ready by now. You should join us.”
Trammel didn’t move. “I wouldn’t want to intrude, ma’am. Your husband might not—”
“My husband’s dead, Sheriff.” She nodded toward an old elm tree to the left of the barn. “Been dead two years now. The flu took him.”
Trammel looked over and saw a small gravestone beside the elm. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. He wasn’t much of a husband. And you’re a lousy liar, Sheriff.”
Trammel was taken aback. “Lie? When did I lie?”
“When you said you were sorry to hear he was dead.” She began walking toward the house again. “Come on if you want to eat. Whatever she cooked is likely getting cold, and Mrs. Downs isn’t a woman who enjoys serving cold breakfast, especially with a guest come to call.”
Trammel willed himself to stop blushing as he followed the undertaker into her house.
* * *
Mrs. Downs glaring at him throughout his breakfast didn’t diminish Trammel’s enjoyment of the eggs and buttermilk biscuits she had prepared. And, although he knew he was hungry, the coffee was the best he could ever remember having.
He made it a point to not look at Emily’s mother-in-law while he ate. The old woman was dressed entirely in black and never took her eyes off him.
Emily Downs seemed to be enjoying the scene even though she never acknowledged it. “Mother,” she finally said, “I’ll clean up here. Why don’t you go inside and rest now?”
Trammel was relieved when the old woman rose from her stool and moved into the other room.
He snagged another biscuit and ate it. “I get the feeling she doesn’t like me much.”
“You’re in good company,” Emily said. “She doesn’t like me much, either. Or at least she didn’t when she could still speak. She had an episode the day my husband died. A stroke, I think. She’s been in mourning ever since. Hasn’t spoken a word since that day, either. Two years since her son passed and she won’t wear anything but black.”
“Forgive me for saying so,” Trammel said, “but I couldn’t help but notice you’re not wearing black.”
“Never have,” she told him. “Brian was a good man in some respects. He had a way with animals I’ll never have. He taught me just about everything he knew about taking care of animals, and later, people. But there was already a doctor in Blackstone when we moved here, so he took up undertaking and I learned that trade, too. The same flu that took Brian took the doctor, too.” She looked out the window. “With both of them gone, I went from helping my husband every now and then to being the only doctor and undertaker in town.”
Trammel had liked the way the morning light fell across her face. He liked her before learning all of this, but now found himself admiring her. “That’s a lot of responsibility for anyone to take on.”
“Not really. The ranch hands know horses and cattle better than I ever will, so they never call me. The sick are grateful I don’t make them any worse, and the dead don’t need much tending to. I just fix them up long enough so they don’t rot while the family grieves. There’s always a couple of castoffs who need drinking money, so there’s never a shortage of grave diggers around.”
Trammel laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you.”
“Never had much of a choice.” She cast a hand in her mother-in-law’s direction. “She can’t take care of herself, and no one around here is lining up to take care of us, so I did what I have to do to survive.”
“I’ve got a hard time believing that.” He caught her looking at him and he immediately regretted it. He wiped his face with a napkin to hide his shame. “About nobody lining up to take care of you, that is.”
“Anyone worthwhile is either married or a drunk,” she told him. “The ranch hands only have one thing on their minds when they come to town and they’re not exactly the courting type anyway.” She placed her chin on her hands. “I’m curious about you, Sheriff Trammel. What brought you to Blackstone, anyway?”
“I’ll tell you if you promise to call me Buck.”
“I’ll listen if you promise to call me Emily.”
“Fair deal,” Trammel smiled. “I’m here because I’ve run out of other places to be and figured here was as good a place as any, especially because my friend’s father seems to draw a lot of water in this town.”
“Mr. Charles Hagen,” Emily said. “King Charles the Great they call him around here. Thinks he owns this valley and everything in it. He practically does. But he’s not content with just being the biggest rancher in this part of the state. I have a feeling he’s got other plans. Plans that involve Blackstone somehow.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
CHAPTER 27
As he rode back to the jail, Buck Trammel found himself feeling better than he had in a long time. Maybe in as long as he could remember. His belly was full, and his mind was still buzzing from a nice conversation with a pretty lady. A doctor, no less. She wasn’t as fancy as Miss Lilly was, but few women were. This wasn’t Wichita. This was Blackstone, Wyoming, and things weren’t supposed to be the same. He hoped they’d be calmer, for his sake and Hagen’s.
He reached Main Street and decided it was probably a good idea for him to go to the Clifford Hotel. Check in on Adam and see the room he had spoken of. Maybe change his clothes and take a bath.
But when he saw a knife sticking out of the jailhouse door, he knew that bath would have to wait.
He tied off his horse at the jail’s hitching rail and climbed up on the boardwalk. The knife blade had been used to pin a handwritten note to the door. He knew it wasn’t there when Smith had told him about Elmer finding Bonner’s body. It must’ve been stuck there after he’d ridden off.
The note flapped in the morning breeze as he read it:
Bonner had debts. Bonner was the sheriff. Now you’re the sheriff. His debts are now yours. Come down to the Den to arrange payment. M.
The Den. The Lion’s Den. Madam Peachtree’s place.
Trammel yanked the note free and balled it up. He looked behind him and saw the clock above the Blackstone Bank said it was already eight in the morning. All of the stores in town looked open. The boardwalks had a fair amount of people milling around in front of the stores. All of the townspeople were trying hard not to look in his direction, but he knew they were.
He may have been a newcomer to this part of the world, and to Blackstone in particular, but Buck Trammel knew people. They were the same here as they were back in Wichita or New York City or any of the other towns and cities he had worked as a Pinkerton. Maybe anywhere in the world. People everywhere loved to gather in groups, and when they gathered, they gossiped.
He imagined there was only one item that might be higher on their list of topics than finding Bonner’s body on the outskirts of town.
The note that had been stuck to the jailhouse door with a knife.
His authority had been challenged before he’d even had a full day on the job. He looked like a fool to people he hadn’t even met yet. Buck Trammel knew he might not have much going for him, but he had never allowed anyone to make him look foolish.
He wasn’t about to start now.
He felt his neck begin to redden and his breathing grow shallow as the old warmth of rage began to envelop him. He fought to control it and fought hard.
You’re new to this town. You’re new to this office. They don’t know you. They have to learn. Go easy. They have to learn.
His right hand balled into a fist until he heard his knuckles crack. Yes, they’d have to learn the hard way. And soon.
He turned when he heard Adam Hagen clear his throat. “I see you’ve found the love note Madam Peachtree left for you.”
Trammel showed him the balled-up note. “You read it?”
The gambler nodded. “I’m afraid half the town has seen it. The other half surely knows about it by now, or at least they will before we get halfway to luncheon. Small towns love gossip.”
“Big towns do, too. Even cities.” He thought of what he had seen of drawing-room society back in Manhattan. All those clean people dishing dirt about people they considered friends. “Same everywhere, I guess. You heard about Bonner?”
“Heard but wasn’t surprised.” Hagen nodded at the knife in the door. “I know you understand there’s a correlation between his body being found and that note.”
Trammel wasn’t exactly sure what a correlation was, but if it meant the note and Bonner’s death were related, then he understood it. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“I thought about removing the note and slipping it under the door,” Hagen said, “but by the time I saw it, there was already a crowd around it. I even tried to pull the knife out, but it’s stuck too deep. I looked like a damned fool trying, too. I’m sorry about that.”
“You didn’t put it there. You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Trammel wrapped his big hand around the knife handle and pulled it free in one tug. It wasn’t as difficult as Hagen had made it out to be. “The one who put it there does.”
North of Laramie Page 17
