So he’d kept it on him the whole time. Hagen swallowed. “Why would I want that?”
Trammel put the receipt back in his pocket. “You tell me. And make it quick, because you’re not leaving this room until you do.”
Hagen saw there was no point in denying it. “I did go into the jail looking for the receipt because I want to erase any proof that the ledger exists.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to use the ledger to help me.”
“Help you?” Trammel’s eyes narrowed. “To help you do what?”
“To make something of myself in this town,” Hagen said. “To make an Eden of this Hell created of my father’s own devising. He can have his ranch and his cattle and his men, but if I play the hand he’s dealt me the right way, I can have an empire of my own that starts right here in town and spreads out like railroad tracks all across this territory. Maybe even beyond. The information in that ledger you took from Peachtree or Pinochet or whatever the hell her name is can help me do that.”
“I knew there was something different about you when you took it. It’s in French, isn’t it? You read French.”
“I’ve picked up enough to get by,” Hagen said. “I didn’t know Doctor Downs speaks the language herself.”
“It doesn’t matter who speaks what,” Trammel said. “It’s evidence against the madam, and I want it back.”
Hagen felt a moment of panic. He couldn’t lose such a valuable document over something as tawdry as a doomed woman’s trial. “You’ve already got enough on her to make her spend the rest of her life in prison. You don’t need the ledger, Buck.”
He watched Trammel grow very still. “I’m asking for that ledger for the last time.”
“And I’m asking you to give me time to show you the many treasures it contains,” Hagen countered. “This is far too important than to be used as an exhibit at her trial. And, once you find out what it contains, you’ll most likely agree that there’s every likelihood that it’ll conveniently be lost before the trial.”
Trammel thought it over, before saying, “You’ve got one minute to make your case.”
Hagen went to the wardrobe and placed his hand on the knob when Trammel’s words froze him. “Careful, Adam.”
Hagen looked in the mirror and saw the big sheriff’s hand had moved closer to the Peacemaker on his hip.
Hagen didn’t turn around. “You’re not going to shoot me, are you Buck? After all we’ve been through?”
“Not unless you do something stupid. As long as the only thing you pull out of that wardrobe is the ledger, we’ll be fine.”
Hagen breathed again as he threw open the wardrobe and pulled the ledger out from the bottom shelf. He flipped open the pages and held the ledger out for Trammel to see. “It lists all of the payments Madam Pinochet has been making to all the right people, not just here in Blackstone, but in the territory. Laramie, too. It’s as clear as day if you can read her handwriting and are passable in French, which I am.”
Trammel looked at the pages, but it was clear they made no more sense to him than they had when he asked Hagen to look at it. “What were the payments for?”
“Everything, really.” Hagen pointed to one line. “This one is the amount of opium Pinochet’s Celestials sold to Montague’s niece.” He flipped to a random page. “Here. This shows how much Judge Milton down in Laramie charged for a dismissal on a murder case last winter. There are also the usual mentions of payoffs to sheriffs and territory officials who allow her to keep her opium trade going. If you give me a few more days with that, I’ll figure it out.”
Trammel flipped through the ledger himself. Even though the words still meant nothing to him, they meant something to a lot of people. Some in the ledger, some who had written in it, too.
“How the hell did a fool like Bonner get his hands on this?”
“Maybe he wasn’t as foolish as everyone thought,” Hagen offered. “But he obviously got it from her somehow, but didn’t have the sand or the wherewithal to use it. I don’t know why the good madam didn’t have one of her people toss his place. They surely would’ve found it.” Hagen nudged Trammel. “Their loss is our gain.”
Trammel closed the ledger. “And what happens when you figure out all the names in this book?”
Hagen offered a nervous laugh. “Guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead, Buck.”
“I doubt that. I bet you thought about it plenty. In fact, I bet you’ve already got designs on taking over the madam’s operation all on your own.”
Hagen tried charm. It had worked before. “Well, the thought had crossed my mind. Don’t you see what you’re holding there, Buck? The keys to the kingdom! Don’t ask me how that damned fool Bonner got his hands on it or how he could’ve forgotten to take it with him, but none of that matters now. What matters is that we have it and Madam Pinochet’s in jail. And I’m free. And you’re the sheriff.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we can step in where she left off,” Hagen said. “Run things like she did, only better.”
“You think I’ll let you or anyone else run opium in my town?”
“It’s not illegal,” Hagen said, “and I bet Pinochet’s payoffs to Mayor Welch were to keep it that way. Same goes for her tribute to the county elders in Laramie. If the numbers in that book are even halfway accurate, she was pulling in quite a penny on dragon smoke, even after the Chinese got their cut. And that was with two nitwits working for her and an addled sheriff too afraid of his own shadow. Now, if you and I were in charge, I’d wager things would be a whole lot better for everyone all the way around.”
Trammel rapped his knuckles on the ledger as he thought over what Hagen had said. “You know, if your old man found out you’d become an opium runner not twenty-four hours after you’d come back to town, he’d have your hide.”
“To hell with him,” Hagen spat. “I’ve taken his scraps long enough. I’ve done my time wandering the wilderness on his say-so and what do I have to show for it? A mediocre career in the army, two medals I don’t deserve, and a stipend I get for staying out of his way. Damn it, Buck. I’m thirty-five years old. How long can a man live with himself like that? Without having something of his own?” Hagen tapped the ledger. “That’s my future in your hands.”
Trammel kept his hand on the ledger. “If Madam Pinochet was paying off officials, and this book can prove it, then I can use this to bring them down, too.”
That was exactly what Hagen could not afford to happen. The politicians were no good to him in jail. But he had to frame his argument in a way that would appeal to Trammel. “Do you think that ledger will ever see the light of day? The names on those pages aren’t just locals, Buck. There are bankers, senators, lawmen, and even the territorial governor himself. It doesn’t take that many people to run dope, but it takes a hell of a lot of people to make sure you’re the only one supplying the territory, and the woman you’ve got locked away in your jail cell right now has cornered the opium market in the Wyoming Territory. I don’t think she and her friends will take too kindly to an easterner, much less a newly minted sheriff, stepping on those toes.”
Trammel looked down at the ledger. “Your father’s name isn’t in this book, is it?”
“That’s none of your damned business.”
Trammel picked up the ledger and slipped it under his arm. “I know it’s not in that ledger, because if it was, you’d be up there right now lording it over your old man to get a bigger piece of his hide instead of down here begging me for a fair shake.”
Hagen felt himself growing desperate; more than when he first realized what was in the ledger and entered the jail looking to tear up the receipt that proved its existence. He had figured Trammel would be angry that he’d entered the jail without permission, but would see his way clear to allowing him to keep the book.
Now he wasn’t so sure, and his angry fear got the better of him.
“This is rich. You talk to me about the law? You call me
a beggar? Who the hell are you anyway, Trammel? A broken-down ex-copper, ex–Pinkerton man come west to hide from his past. A few weeks ago, you were watching drunks and drovers from the lookout chair in The Gilded Lilly, and now you’re lecturing me about morality? Who the hell do you think you are?” He looked down at the star on Trammel’s coat. “And who the hell do you think is responsible for giving you that?”
A left hook from Trammel sent Hagen back against the wardrobe before sliding to the floor. It took a couple of seconds for the pain to register, but when it did, it registered hard. Hagen couldn’t remember when he’d ever been hit harder, but he knew it wasn’t the hardest Trammel could hit.
As his ears began to clear, he heard the sheriff say, “I know what I am and what I was, Adam. You’d do well to remember the same. I may have saved your life, and you may have led us here, but we’re even on that score. I didn’t get this badge from you. I got it from your father. Any debt I owe, I owe to him if I decide to keep wearing it. Right now, I’m not sure it’s worth the trouble.”
Hagen fought the nausea from the double vision and the pain webbing from his jaw. “But the Bowman clan is worth the trouble. Or at least you are to them. Lefty isn’t going to quit coming after us just because his meal ticket is dead or because we got cleared of killing those folks. He’s got a score to settle with you, and he’s not going to stop until he finds you. We both know how poorly you fare on the prairie on your own, much less with cattlemen stalking you. You’ve got a better chance here in town with people who can help or at least a solid jail from where you can fight. Because when they run you down, and they will, you’re going to need all the friends you can get.”
Hagen ran a tongue along his teeth and felt a molar on the right side of his jaw wiggle. “And since I’m known to be riding with you, I’m in the same boat as you.”
Trammel placed his hand on the doorknob, but stopped. “What does any of that have to do with the ledger?”
Hagen looked up at the sheriff from the floor. God, the man looked even bigger from down here. “No one knows you have that ledger except you and me.”
“And Emily,” Trammel said.
“You told her?”
“She was there when I gave it to you, remember?” Trammel took one step forward. “And if any of this crap splashes on her, I swear—”
“Don’t be absurd,” Hagen said. “In fact, there’ll be no violence at all if we play the cards we’ve been dealt properly.” He nodded to the ledger under Trammel’s massive arm. “That’s the best ace we could ever hope for, Buck. If you hand it in when you bring Pinochet to Laramie, we lose it, and the people in it find someone else to run their poison. If we keep that ledger a secret, we might be able to control who is in it, which is better for us, especially with the likes of Lefty after us.”
“He’s a one-eyed drunk,” Trammel said. “I’m not worried about him.”
“Then worry about the people in the ledger,” Hagen said. “Look, someone’s going to run the criminal element in this territory, Buck. Maybe from here. Maybe from Laramie or Cheyenne, but run it they will no matter what you do. Maybe we can get along with them and maybe we can’t. Opium is already here in Blackstone. The tiger’s already in the house, and there’s no way of getting rid of it without a great deal of danger and difficulty. Now, do you want it purring at our feet or lunging for our throats?” Hagen held out a shaking hand to point at the ledger. “What you’re holding there can help us make that tiger do whatever we want. If you hand that in as evidence, it’ll disappear. And if you let me translate it, we’ll have enough dirt on the right people to protect ourselves.”
Hagen stayed perfectly still while he let Trammel soak in his words. The big man was a tough one to figure out, and, even weeks into their association, the new sheriff of Blackstone continued to surprise him. He was far more intelligent that Hagen had initially thought. He only hoped Trammel was smart enough to recognize common sense when he saw it.
He got his answer when Trammel threw the ledger on the bed. “I don’t know how deep this crap goes, and I’m not sure I want to know. But I don’t want it getting any bigger than it already is. What you do elsewhere in the territory isn’t my problem. I only care about Blackstone, and I want the opium den here shut down. Understand?”
Hagen began to breathe again. “Of course.”
“This war that’s pending between you and your father is your business, not mine. Either of you step out of line, you go to jail. If it comes down between you and him, don’t expect me to be on your side.”
Hagen was beginning to feel encouraged. “Anything I do against him won’t be that direct, so you have nothing to fear on that score. Anything else?”
“Just one more thing.” He pointed at the ledger on the bed. “You, me, and Emily are the only three who know you have that. It better stay that way. Anyone else finds out, I’m going to blame you, and you won’t be happy.”
“I’ve no desire for anything except profit and revenge at my father’s expense. I don’t want to hurt anyone else, especially you, Buck. You saved my life, and I won’t forget it. You’re my friend, and I hope you won’t forget that, either.” He decided to risk pushing his luck a little further. “And that receipt in your pocket?”
“Stays where it is,” Trammel said. “I know how these things can get out of hand. People get greedy. They forget who their friends are.” He tapped his jacket pocket. “This receipt will help you remember there’s a record that you have evidence against some important people. It might not mean much in a courtroom, but the people in that ledger might like to know who has it. You live up to your end of the bargain, it never sees the light of day.”
Hagen slumped over. Short of getting back the receipt, Trammel had given him everything he had wanted. “Thank you, Buck. Your cut will be—”
“Keep it,” Trammel said. “None of this has anything to do with me. Keep it that way.” As he opened the door, he said, “Make sure you wipe your face before you come outside.”
He watched the sheriff close the door as he patted the right side of his face. His hand came away bloody. Hagen smiled. It wasn’t the first time he’d had blood on his hands. And he doubted it would be the last.
He was just getting to his feet when he heard a sharp rap on his door. He knew it couldn’t be Trammel again because he wouldn’t knock. He drew his Colt and aimed it at the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Springfield down from the Moose. Got word you wanted to see me.”
With all that had happened, Hagen had forgotten that he had sent word for the man who owned the saloon next to The Lion’s Den to come see him. He had told the messenger he wanted to see him after midnight, but the drunk he’d sent might’ve gotten the time wrong.
“Just a minute,” Hagen said as he holstered the pistol and went to the mirror. The right side of his mouth was bleeding, but just a trickle. He knew he’d gotten off lucky. He had seen what that man could do with his fists.
He held a towel to his mouth as he grabbed the ledger and tucked it behind the pillows on his bed. He’d find a safer place for it later.
He opened the door and saw a bald, barrel-shaped man with a filthy gray apron standing in the hall. “I know you said midnight, Mr. Hagen, but that’s our busy time, and I figured I’d try to see you now. I used the back door, just like you said.”
Mr. Hagen, Adam thought. “No trouble at all. Please, come in.”
The saloonkeeper looked at the towel at Hagen’s mouth as he entered the room. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Cut myself shaving.” Hagen shut the door behind him. “Now, take a seat, and let me explain how we’re all about to become very rich indeed.”
CHAPTER 32
In the hotel lobby away from the party, Emily looked concerned. “But you can’t leave. This party’s in our honor.”
Trammel tried his best not to laugh. “This is for Adam more than for us. It was just an excuse for him to get to introduce himself to the important
people in town. Maybe tweak his father’s nose in the bargain. Besides, I’ve got a couple of prisoners I need to tend to and a rawboned kid watching them all. I’ve got to get back.”
Emily wasn’t convinced. “You and Adam had a fight, didn’t you?”
He’d never been good at lying, and he didn’t intend on starting now, especially to her. “It was just a little shoving, that’s all.”
She took his hands in hers and saw blood on his left knuckles. “Thank heavens I have my bag in the wagon,” she said. “I’ll go fetch it and tend to his wounds.”
“He’s fine,” Trammel assured her. “It was just a bloody lip. I promise.”
Emily didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror lately, but you’re almost six and a half feet tall and more than two hundred pounds. Adam’s about one-forty if he’s lucky and most of that is in whiskey. I’ll get my bag.”
This time, Trammel did laugh as he held on to her hands. “He’ll be out in a while, I promise. We just had to get a few things straight and everything’s fine. There’s no bad blood between us.”
Emily frowned. “I’m going to take your word for it, Sheriff. But if you’re downplaying this for my benefit, there’ll be consequences.”
He enjoyed the way she spoke to him. Most people deferred to him, given his size. But Emily Downs wasn’t the least bit afraid of him, and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. “Yes, ma’am. Do you want me to come back to take you home?”
“Of course,” she said. “But I intend on stopping by the jail to tend to that prisoner’s arm you broke. After I do that, then you can take me home.”
Realizing they were still holding hands, Trammel raised hers to his lips and kissed them. “I saw Hagen do that when you came in and figured I’d give it a try. How’d I look? Sophisticated?”
“Like a horse drinking from a trough,” she giggled, “but I appreciate the gesture. Now go. And be safe.”
He squeezed her hands lightly before reluctantly letting them go and taking his hat down from the peg by the door. “Yes, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat as he went to the door. “How’d that look? Better?”
North of Laramie Page 22
