"We didn't do it. He was ambushed. Whoever shot him might even have been trying to kill me," J.D. said.
"That's the reason you both ain't on the other side of the bars. Doctor Burts is as close to an honest man as there is in this town, and he said it happened 'xactly the way you said. I even got him to dig around and pull out the bullet what killed Bell."
"It went through his skull. Oh," Kate said, chagrined. "The bullet ended up in his desk."
"Wall, actually. And it ain't from a .44-40 like you two carry. More like a .50 from a Sharps."
"So you're not giving us the reward?" J.D. wouldn't accept not being locked up for a killing neither of them committed as the only reward being offered.
"If you want to collect, I'd suggest you ride on back to Wichita Falls and settle accounts there. I've sent descriptions and names of the two bodies. If Marshal Fredericks sees fit to give you some money, that's on him."
J.D. knew all the marshal wanted was for them to leave town. It was even better that he didn't have to pay out any reward money since getting reimbursed might take weeks or even months.
"You say the marshal hasn't seen his deputy in a week?"
"Maybe longer 'n that. Don't think a man like Henry Davis would hightail it, so I'd be worried about his fate. Might even be that these outlaws you're chasin' put Deputy Davis in the ground. From what I know of the man, he isn't what you'd call careful. Downright belligerent and not one to pussyfoot around when it comes to enforcin' the law."
"He was shot up. He said he was on his way to a nearby rancher," said Kate. "A family named Larson."
"Can't say I know the name, but that's not my bailiwick." The marshal pronounced the final word carefully, savoring it like he might a sip of good Kentucky bourbon. He looked pleased with himself for knowing it.
"Let's ride, J.D. Taking up room in the marshal's office isn't doing any of us much good."
"You folks have a good trip now, hear?"
J.D. saw the relief on the man's face. He held the door for Kate as they exited into the warm Texas fall. A small breeze promised colder weather soon. Too many times he had been in Texas during the winter and endured the Blue Northers that whipped down from Oklahoma Territory and points farther toward Canada. He wanted to be away from the area before snow fell and blizzards blanketed the plains.
"We can ride back to Wichita Falls and see the marshal. Fredericks, he said."
"Darling," J.D. said, "it'd be better to find the deputy. He was the one that set us on this trail."
"But? Are you thinking what I am?" She turned her gaze on him, defying him to contradict what she wanted to do. He wasn't going to do it. They both shared the same uneasiness over the missing deputy, and finding Davis wasn't the best use of their time.
"Big-hearted Abby just might know where the loot is hidden. We never figured out what she was to Zeke Morrisey."
"We are on the same track. Good. Where do we start?"
"The only place," he said, "where we know the girl has been. Hell's Half Acre."
They set off down Calhoun Street, unsure where to start but not knowing what else to do.
* * *
"I swear," he said, "we will never find her without knowing her real name." J.D. sat on a stump and watched the traffic along Main Street. The mule-drawn trolley came and went with passengers bound for the railroad depot another half mile to the south. The passengers sat with their eyes straight ahead, as if this wouldn't attract unwanted attention. That was the difference between north Fort Worth and those in Hell's Half Acre. The law-abiding citizens avoided even glancing at the chaos here as if it might infect them.
"I have to agree with you." Kate bumped her butt against his to move him over so she could share the stump. She sat with hands on her knees and leaning forward. "There's no way Miss Purdy will tell us anything important."
"She'd lie to get rid of us. Or just gun us down on sight." J.D. had to chuckle. "We did cause quite a ruckus in her cathouse, didn't we?"
"And that was just the gunplay. What we did with nobody looking was even rowdier. Why, we ought to—" Kate cut off her suggestion and stood. She took a step toward the street.
"What is it? Do you see Abby?" J.D. was beside her in a flash. He looked up and down the street but saw nothing of the wisp of the girl they sought.
"No, but I did see her."
"Her?" J.D. took a few seconds for him to realize she meant a woman missionary stopping men to harangue them about their evil, drunken whoring ways. She wasn't having much luck in either her conversion or any of the men taking the broadside she thrust out.
Kate strode across the street and blocked the path of the stolid, plainly dressed woman.
"You dress like a harlot. Repent." The woman shoved her broadside at Kate, who took it without even a glance.
"You see everyone along this street. Have you see a smallish woman who worked as a soiled dove at Miss Purdy's?"
"A harlot seeking another harlot?" The missionary sniffed disdainfully. "You seek to engage in illicit, immoral behavior at that place of ill repute?" She turned her hot gaze on J.D. "Is this your fancy man? You will both burn in Hell if you don't repent."
"Answer her," J.D. said. "Have you seen a woman about this tall and with pale eyes and a haunted expression?" He held out his hand to indicate how tall Abby stood.
"Dope fiends. All of them. They do well to kill themselves to escape their lives of sin. Of course, suicide means they will burn in Hell for all eternity."
"Please." Kate's soft plea caused the woman to take a second look at her.
"That's a word I don't hear often." She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and mouthed a quick prayer before saying, "There are so many who look like that. I try to save their souls, and they mock me."
"This one wouldn't. She's likely to want to hide."
"Her own misbehavior hunts her, haunts her." The missionary nodded solemnly. "I might have seen the one you seek. I don't know."
"Thank you," Kate said. This further softened the missionary's stern expression, but only for a moment. She turned to confront another passerby.
"A moment. Have you seen this man?" J.D. held out the sketch with Three-fingers Frank Bell's likeness. "Or this man?"
"I have seen both of them."
"Was there a girl with this man?" J.D. held up Morrisey's sketch.
"There was. I expected her to become a lady of the night, but with her background what else could be expected?"
"Big-hearted Abby?"
"I don't know that name. Abigail and Zeke are of that kind."
"What kind is that?" Kate kept her voice low and soothing, begging for information when J.D. would have shouted.
"Orphans. They are orphans, so of course they have no moral compass."
"How do you know them?"
"Like so many others at the Pertwee Orphanage, they rejected my teachings."
Kate and J.D. exchanged looks. Without another word to the missionary, they turned back north. If Abby sought refuge, she might return to where she had been raised. It was a slim clue but better than nothing.
Chapter Ten
As his wife stuffed their belongings into their saddlebags, J.D. held back a curtain and stared into the street. The uneasy feeling of being watched refused to go away, but nowhere did he see anyone loitering or obviously staring at the hotel.
"Is he out there?"
"Who?" J.D. let the curtain swing back into place.
"I don't know. Whoever you think is after us. Can it be Bogardus?"
"He doesn't have much reason to, other than his henchman got killed. If he asked the marshal, he'd know we had nothing to do with that."
"I've been thinking about who shot at us that night. Justin Bogardus is related to a blue ribbon marksman. Maybe he shares some of that talent."
"And he killed his own man? Why?" J.D. chanced one last look out the window. Everyone in the Fort Worth street seemed to belong, either as a businessman or moving past on a definite mission that had
nothing to do with the Blazes.
"He didn't want Three-fingers Frank spilling his role in the Wichita Falls robbery?"
"There's nothing to tie Bogardus in with the robbery. He knew Bell, perhaps even used him to do some strong-arm work for him, but there's no reason for him to hire Bell to rob another bank."
"You're probably right, but Abigail likely didn't take that shot."
"She had reason to kill Bell." J.D. slung the saddlebags over his shoulder, gave the room—the bed—one last fond look, then left.
He paid their bill from the proceeds of Kate's skill at pool, then got a broad wink from the clerk.
"You Pinkertons are sly ones," the clerk said. "The other agent tried not to be too obvious, but I spotted him right away."
"Other agent?" J.D. stared. "You mean Justin Bogardus?"
"Mr. Bogardus? Oh, no, I know him and most all the men who work for him. Your agent wore a disguise and kept his hat pulled low so I couldn't see his face, but that was suspicious. Who else could it have been asking after you?"
"He may have been looking for us to deliver the check from the Chicago headquarters," Kate said. She steered J.D. out into the cool autumn afternoon. Both of them looked around. "I'm sorry I thought you were being overly suspicious. How can we find out who it is that's so interested in what we do?"
"Getting on the trail after Big-hearted Abby pays off better for us than trying to catch whoever it is stalking us."
"You're right." She motioned to the bellman, gave him a dollar bill and sent him to fetch their horses from where they had been stabled at the Texas Wagon Yard.
When the man returned with their mounts, J.D. asked him, "We're looking for an orphanage. How do we find it?"
"There's a couple around. The nearest one is the Pertwee Orphanage about ten miles south of town. Go to the railroad depot and keep on going. There's a decent road, if it hasn't washed out. We had plenty of rain a few weeks back, so the going might be risky. Not on horseback, though, only if you drive a wagon."
"Thanks." J.D. gave him another dollar, slung the saddlebags on the horses, then stepped up.
"Ten miles isn't so bad," Kate said. "Race you!" She snapped the reins on her horse and lit out. J.D. was right behind her, enjoying the sight of her bouncing up and down in the saddle until they got out of town. Then they slowed to a more sedate pace so he could occasionally study their back trail.
All the way to the road leading to the orphanage he looked and saw nothing behind them.
Kate said, "This is the way. Nice of them to post signs."
Every mile or so they saw another crudely lettered sign letting them know they were on the right road to the orphanage. He saw no reason to hurry, so they dawdled along the road. J.D. kept thinking he would double back but never worked up the gumption. His mind raced ahead to the possibilities they might find at the orphanage. After taking the entire day to find the place, they saw a two-story rambling house out on the twilight-cloaked prairie. Lights in many of the windows showed how many people lived there.
"What do we do? Ride up and tell them we're interested in adopting an orphan?"
J.D. looked at her quizzically.
"What? You think I don't want an urchin or two underfoot?" Kate stared straight ahead at the house. "It might be interesting."
"Teaching him to use a six-shooter? Riding the trail with us as we hunt down outlaws for the bounty? Watching us face off with gunmen?"
"Why do you think any child would be a 'he'? A girl could do all that and cook, too."
"I'd have to be the one to show her how to whup up a mess of beans. You burned the last pot." J.D. kept up the joshing until they reached the front gate leading into a well-kept yard. He fell silent as he worked out what to do. Asking about adopting an orphan wasn't likely to get too far, not with the way both of them carried their six-shooters and had the look of gunmen about them.
"Let's do some scouting," Kate suggested.
"I'll circle around and see what the back of the place looks like. If you see Abigail make a mourning dove's call."
"A mating call?" Kate smiled sweetly. "Go on. I'll keep watch here until you circle around. There's no reason to spook anybody in the house, especially if Abigail is in there."
"I feel it in my gut. She is." J.D. rode slowly through the twilight, sure that they would finally get some answers. The one he wanted most from Abigail was where the loot from the Wichita Falls bank robbery was.
* * *
Kate dismounted and led her horse to a stand of post oaks just off the road where she had a clear view of the front door. She settled down and counted the lit windows and tried to guess how many orphans called this home. From her simple tally, there had to be more than fifty crammed into the house. It was big, but she saw so many moving about that they had to be packed like sardines. She knew some orphanages slept two to a bed while others stacked them like cordwood. Those were the ones most likely to sell their girls into prostitution.
Her thoughts turned to Big-hearted Abby and if that had happened with her. She was old enough to be sent out on her own, but the orphanage's proprietor might have decided to make her earn back some of her keep. If that had happened, she was only a week or two in the brothel. Miss Purdy hadn't trusted her, but then the old harridan didn't trust anyone. Still, Abigail had the attitude of someone not yet worn down by the constant stream of horny cowboys and drunk clerks from around Fort Worth.
How she and Zeke Morrisey came together was more complicated since the missionary thought both were orphans. If they had known each other, Morrisey might have come after her once she was consigned to Miss Purdy. That made a modicum of sense to Kate, but it didn't quite fit and she couldn't work out why.
She popped up like a prairie dog out of its hole when she heard a buggy rattling in her direction from the direction of Fort Worth. There had been several crossing roads, so the buggy didn't necessarily come from town. As she peered into the gathering gloom, she perked up even more. Dressed in a neat, simple dress, Abigail drove the buggy straight for the orphanage as if she belonged there.
Kate stepped out to stop the girl. She was too late. A rider galloped up, pulled in front of the buggy and grabbed the horse's bridle, jerking savagely at it. The horse reared. For a heart stopping instant, Kate thought the animal would bolt and give Abigail one hell of a ride until she brought it under control.
"You're just the little lady I been lookin' for." The rider released the bridle and rode up beside Abigail. "And you know exactly what I'm lookin' for. Tell me." He reached down and grabbed her by the front of the dress. With a heave, he lifted Abigail from the buggy and dropped her to the ground in a sobbing heap.
Kate slipped the leather thong off the hammer of her Colt and stepped out into the road.
"I never thought I'd see you out here, Deputy Davis."
"Miz Blaze." He wheeled his horse around. "You done good trackin' this one down. I'm fixin' to arrest her and take her back for trial. She was one of the gang what robbed the bank."
"No, she wasn't. She's been in a whorehouse for the last couple weeks. But you know that, don't you?"
"I do now, thanks to you. You flushed Morrisey real good, and he ran straight to her." Davis stepped down from his horse and let the reins dangle. "Where's that hubby of yours? I know both of you left Fort Worth together."
"Not many trailsmen can track us without revealing themselves. You're one of the best, Deputy."
"You know I'm not a deputy."
"I know you're the one who gunned down Three-fingers Frank Bell, too. Why'd you kill your partner?"
"He was in the way. He didn't know where Morrisey had hidden the gold, so why should I recover the loot and split it with anybody else? Besides, I didn't want him braggin' on how he rode with the best damn bank robber in all of Texas—me. Now what gave me away."
"Your vest."
"What?"
"Not yours, but the real Deputy Davis'. That was him in the grave, wasn't it? You killed him, then stripped
off his pants, boots and coat since they were all covered in blood—his blood."
"He died slow, bleedin' from a couple bullets I put in him. He was a tough old bird. What did you mean about the vest?"
"The body had a vest with two small holes in it about here." Kate pointed to her breast. "That's where a badge would be pinned. You left him in his vest because of the bullet holes, took the badge and that's it you're wearing now."
"Never thought on that. Takin' the clothes and pretendin' to be all shot up so's you'd do the trackin' I couldn't was as far as I thought. You're a right smart lady. Too bad you're not gonna just ride off and let me take the girl."
"You're right about that. Before we get down to exchanging lead, what's your name? When I add your body to Bell's and Morrisey's, I want to be sure we collect the proper amount."
"No need for you to know 'cuz you're gonna die right now!"
He went for his six-gun, but Kate was already in action. She was fast, damned fast, and she cleared leather before him. The fading light betrayed her aim, though. She fired and knew she had missed. Swinging her left hand around, she began fanning off the rounds to put as much fear into the fake deputy as she could.
By this time he returned fire. A slug whizzed past her head, taking a nick out of the broad flat brim of her hat. He was as handicapped by the fading light as she was. She dodged and rolled into a ditch alongside the road, working to reload.
"Ain't gonna do you no good, Miz Blaze. I got my rifle now, and you know I'm a good shot."
To prove it, he put a round into the edge of the ditch not six inches from her nose. She flinched, rolled and kept trying to reload. Her fingers felt like sausages, clumsy, big and unable to hang onto the cartridges. Finally getting all six chambers reloaded, she poked her head up, expecting to draw his fire.
She tried to make out the shapes moving around the buggy. A decidedly unladylike curse escaped her lips. The outlaw had pulled Abigail to her feet and moved her around as a shield. Kate sank down, took a deep breath, then scooted along on her belly away from the buggy. When she had gone ten yards, she chanced another look. The darkness shrouded the scene completely now. Staying low, she crossed the road and dropped into the ditch on the other side. She reversed her direction and crawled along until she came within a few yards of the buggy.
Blaze! Hell's Half Acre Page 8
