The Intruders Page 10

  Hagen had been to Boston in the winter. It was cold and had a fair amount of snow, but it was nothing compared to the suffocating blanket of ice and misery of a Wyoming winter. “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine. The only thing I was not able to procure for you were medical supplies. Scalpels and such. I assume you brought your own.”

  “I managed to save those despite everything else, thanks to you.” Moore walked toward him from the back and ran his hand along the banister that led up to his rooms. The place still smelled new. He looked at Hagen with tears in his eyes. “Thank you for this, Adam. You have no idea how bad things got for me after you left.”

  But Hagen had a very good idea of what had happened. Hagen and the good doctor had helped each other many times during Hagen’s time in New Orleans. Dr. Moore had repaired the various wounds Hagen had suffered following any number of scrapes he had gotten into following games of chance. Hagen, in turn, had helped cancel the numerous debts the doctor owed to a number of unsavory characters in the parishes around the city. Moore had something of a gambling problem, which he’d seemed to have in hand when Hagen was forced to leave New Orleans. But in the two years since, Dr. Moore fell back into his old habits and had been at risk of being killed by his numerous creditors.

  The doctor’s misfortune was Hagen’s gain. “No need to thank me for anything, Jacob. I owe you my life, many times over.”

  Moore wiped at his eyes and remembered something. “Speaking of which, how is your right arm fairing? I’d forgotten all about it when we shook hands. Come to think of it, you had a surprisingly normal grip.” He began walking toward Hagen. “I can take a look at it if you want.”

  “You can look at it tomorrow, after you’ve settled in,” Hagen said. “I used that old sandbag trick I saw you prescribe for others. I have to admit I didn’t imagine there’d be much to it, but it’s helped me regain some of my strength.”

  “I’m glad I could be of help, even if only as an influence.” He looked at the floor and said, “I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Adam. I promise to mend my ways. I mean it this time. You have my word.”

  Hagen did not have the heart to tell him that the only reason he had been brought to Blackstone was because of his weakness. “Chin up, man. You’re a doctor, for God’s sake. A man of medicine with his own practice in a town that’s on the cusp of greatness.”

  When Moore looked up, his mood had brightened some. “There,” Hagen said. “That’s the spirit.” He decided it was time to gradually introduce him to the realities of his situation. “Now, as I discussed in my letter, there are some conditions that come along with our arrangement. First, the saloons in town are closed to you. Not all of them have gambling, but given certain frailties, you are forbidden from entering any of them. That’s nonnegotiable, Jacob.”

  “I understand, Adam. It’s for the best.”

  “You may have a drink or two at the Clifford Hotel or when you’re in my presence, but no more than that. I know whiskey was never your weakness, but intoxication leads to other evils. Do we agree?”

  “Yes, Adam.”

  “Good. You’ll continue to work here and accept patients as soon as you are ready,” Hagen went on. “The sooner the better. See whomever you want and treat them as you see fit, but remember that my interests come first. When I send for you, you are to drop everything and come to me immediately.”

  “Unless I’m in the middle of a procedure that requires me to complete it,” Jacob said.

  Hagen saw he had a point. “Let’s hope those instances are few and far between. You will occasionally have people come here asking you for laudanum. Although you will be well stocked, you will not give them any unless they have a note from me. Is that clear?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I also want a weekly list of who you treated and why,” Hagen went on. “I know there’s a certain implied confidentiality between a doctor and his patients, but not here. I want to know everything for reasons of my own.”

  “And you will.”

  Hagen had intentionally saved the most important part for the end, as if it was an afterthought. “One more thing. You will also serve as the town’s chief coroner and assist Moore until she decides otherwise. Signing death certificates and things like that. Most of our deaths are from laudanum poisoning these days, so it won’t be a demanding task at all. You’ll also get a small stipend from the town for each certificate issued, so that’ll help with things.”

  “Adam, about that—”

  “What I said in my letter still holds,” Hagen told him. “I will not charge you rent and you can keep all of your fees from your patients. All of your expenses will be charged to my account at Robertson’s store, as will all of your meals at the Clifford Hotel. I must insist on that.”

  “But that’s not right, Adam,” Jacob Moore protested. “I can’t just live off you for free.”

  Hagen smiled warmly. You’re right, old friend. Nothing in life is free. And you’ll pay me back for everything I’ve done for you with a simple stroke of the pen. “It won’t be forever, I assure you. Once you’re up and running, I’ll be charging you a pretty penny to rent this place. And you’ll be able to afford it, too.”

  Hagen was not surprised when Moore embraced him and sputtered his thanks. His enthusiasm almost made Hagen feel guilty for using him like this. Almost, but not quite.

  As Hagen began to leave, Moore surprised him by saying, “I understand there’s another doctor in town. A woman named Emily Downs.”

  Hagen turned. “Who told you about her?”

  “Someone on the train mentioned her,” the doctor said. “She seems like a remarkable woman. I would like to talk to her, maybe even work with her if it’s possible.”

  Hagen saw no harm in it. She would not be around much longer anyway. “I shall introduce you to her tomorrow. Until then, go upstairs and get a good night’s rest. You’re going to need it.”

  * * *

  As he walked along Main Street to meet Trammel at the jail, Hagen considered himself a lucky man. Just when he did not think he could feel any better, he’d had the good fortune to meet Jacob Moore’s coach. Hagen took that as a good omen of better things to come in the days ahead.

  His path to glory was now clear. He had King Hagen’s lawyer cowed, his own doctor in place, and the Celestials on his side. Each of his saloons was already full and it was not even sundown yet.

  Now, if Lucien Clay had the decency not to succumb to the beating Trammel had given him, he could pull the lever, and the gears of his great scheme could be put into motion within a matter of days. His vengeance was at hand.

  Hagen knew he would need all the good feeling he could muster to help cushion the anger Trammel was sure to hurl at him in the jailhouse. His ire would be worth it in the long run.

  Despite the closed door, Hagen could hear raised voices coming from inside the jail. These were not the moans of anguish of the laudanum addicts who now crammed his cells but the voices of men in argument.

  Hagen smiled as he knocked on the heavy door. Yes, everything was certainly falling into place at exactly the right time.

  “Come in,” Trammel barked. “It’s open.”

  Hagen opened the door and saw the reason for the shouting.

  It was a packed house. Mayor Jonah Welch, the proprietor of the Oakwood Arms, was on his feet before Trammel’s desk. Rhoades, the newspaperman, was also there, taking copious notes in his notebook.

  Even Dr. Downs was in attendance, sitting next to Rhoades. Her arms crossed and her eyes closed, as if she was waiting for a storm to blow over.

  That storm was a fury of words from the mayor.

  “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Trammel: We cannot have this kind of conduct take place in broad daylight on Main Street!” A tall, hatchet-faced man with a high, stiff collar and brown hair, Welch glowered down at Trammel over round, wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “As if we don’t have enough to worry about with these hordes
of mindless men wandering the streets at all hours of the day and night, we have to contend with our sheriff practically beating an innocent man to death. We will not abide this, sir. Not one bit!”

  Hagen slipped into the jail and quietly closed the door, but he was not quiet enough to escape the mayor’s wrath.

  “And there’s the man who is the culprit behind it all.” Welch pointed at him. “This liar, this proprietor of iniquity, this fiend who fouls his family’s name with every breath he takes.”

  Hagen laughed. “A fine speech, Jonah, but I’m far from the only sinner in this room. You’d been known to monger a few whores yourself in your day. One in particular who used to work at the Painted Dove before it closed down.”

  Welch’s hatchet face only reddened. “My indiscretions are my business, Hagen, not yours. They never inflicted any harm on the town; not to any magnitude that matched your efforts, anyway. You’ve turned a nice, quiet town into a reflection of yourself, a wretched slum as bad as any in the Old Testament.”

  Hagen laughed again. “Good Lord, Jonah. Did one of your tenants leave behind a dictionary? I never knew you possessed such oratory skills. This is quite a revelation.”

  “And a revelation it will be for this fair town if we don’t get some law and order around here, and by thunder, I mean the Book of Revelation!” He turned his fury back toward Trammel, who had continued to sit calmly behind his desk during the exchange.

  “That part’s your business, Sheriff. You’re paid to keep the good people of this town safe from the likes of Hagen over there. In their name, I demand to know how you plan to go about doing just that.”

  Hagen watched Trammel closely. He knew the sheriff’s temper well, and knew he did not like being spoken to like this. He was slow to rile under the right circumstances, but Mayor Welch seemed to have been pushing Trammel mighty hard for quite a while. There was no telling how the big man would react. Hagen was glad he would be there to see it, whatever his reaction.

  Hagen noticed Dr. Emily looked concerned, too. She knew Trammel’s temperament better than anyone.

  But the sheriff’s reaction was to do nothing. Trammel did not blink. He did not move. He barely even breathed. He simply sat behind his desk and watched the mayor’s breathing calm down after his rant.

  “Well?” Mayor Welch asked after a solid minute went by. “What do you have to say for yourself, Trammel? Or have you grown content with doing nothing these days?”

  “I was just giving you a moment to calm yourself,” Trammel told him. “I was hoping the silence would show you all that ranting and raving didn’t get you anywhere but worn out. Your face is redder than hell and you’re panting like you just ran a mile. You want Doc Downs here to look you over before I give you my answer?”

  The concern over his health only served to stoke the fire of the mayor’s temper. “I’ll have my answer now, by God, because the people of this town deserve action.”

  “And they’ve been getting action,” Trammel said. “You want to know what me and Hawkeye have been doing? Why don’t you go back to where the cells are and see for yourself? I’ve got them packed with men in various states of delirium from the laudanum Hagen’s Celestials serve up. They don’t have a cent in their pockets to pay for their fines, and seeing as how they’re all ranch hands or miners, I can’t hold them or send them to Laramie for thirty days because I don’t want to cripple the few businesses we’ve got around here.”

  He pointed at Emily. “Dr. Downs has been good enough to check in on the prisoners daily to make sure none of them die. We’ve had a few close calls, but so far, they’ve all made it. But the doctor’s time is worth something, so it’s costing the town money every time she walks through that door.” He looked at Emily. “That’s not a complaint. You know that. You’re entitled to get paid for what you do. That medicine you give them isn’t free.”

  Emily continued to look down. Hagen was glad she seemed completely content to remain clear of this fight.

  Trammel looked back at Mayor Welch. “As for you not being happy with the job I’m doing, that’s your decision.” He pointed at the star pinned to his vest. “This comes off as easy as it goes on. It’s yours whenever you want it. You want me to apologize for beating the hell out of Lucien Clay this afternoon? You’ll have a long wait, because I’m not sorry. That man’s had a hand in every crooked deed I’ve handled since coming to Blackstone, and today he got some of the justice he’s been avoiding.”

  “I heard about how he looked when you threw him in his coach,” the mayor said. “He was in a bad way. If he dies—”

  “Wyoming will be a better place,” Trammel said.

  “And you’ll be facing a murder charge,” Welch said, finishing his thought. “Making excuses for you with Mike Albertson and the Citizens’ Committee is one thing, but my influence in Laramie is limited at best.”

  Hagen cut loose with a sharp laugh. “So’s your influence here in town. No one listens to you except those poor creatures who work for you in that miserable hovel you have the audacity to call a hotel.”

  Welch glared at him and looked even more bitter than normal, but he did not say anything. Hagen knew there was nothing to say, for Welch was not a fool and knew Hagen had spoken the truth.

  The mayor turned his attention back to Trammel. “There’s got to be something you can do about this, Buck. You know I’ve always supported you, and so has the town. But these dope fiends wandering around, disrupting lives. Breaking up homes. We’ve never encountered anything like this. What can we do?”

  “I’ve told you before that I can only enforce the laws we’ve got on the books,” Trammel said. “You want me to stop Hagen’s laudanum den, pass a law that makes it illegal.”

  Hagen had heard that one before. “Laramie will never allow it.”

  Trammel kept talking as if Hagen was not there. “Or pass a law saying all places of business have to be shut down at midnight. Nothing good ever happens after midnight anyway. That’ll go for the Celestial den, too. Probably go a long way to getting men off the streets once they’ve had their smoke, especially first thing in the morning.”

  “I suggested that at the last county meeting and got laughed at.” Mayor Welch looked at the door that led to the cells in the back. The moaning and cries of pain from men slowly emerging from the oblivion the laudanum had provided. “I wish they were here now. They wouldn’t be laughing.”

  “They wouldn’t care either,” Hagen said, drawing all the eyes in the jail to him. “And please don’t look at me with such righteous indignation, everyone. You may hate men like me and Lucien Clay, but we provide as much of a public service as the good Dr. Downs provides to her patients.”

  “How dare you!” Mayor Welch spat.

  “I don’t dare,” Hagen replied. “I speak the truth. You expect those men to herd cattle and horses and break their backs in the mines without some measure of entertainment? Those men are going to do something when they’re not at work and need something to look forward to when they are. They’re not the type to crack open a Bible and read the Good Book by candlelight before they go to sleep, for if they were, they wouldn’t be frequenting our establishments in the first place. They need companionship. They need to forget about their lot in life for a while. Someone’s going to provide it. If I don’t, someone else will. Madam Pinochet did it before me, as did Lucien Clay.”

  “Your laudanum rots men’s souls, Hagen,” Welch said.

  “So does whiskey, Jonah. It just gets them there faster, and only if they abuse it. Most of my clients don’t. I’ve seen more men destroyed by whiskey than laudanum. I’d be more than happy to provide other releases if I could. Cocaine, for instance. But it’s difficult to obtain, and my Celestials have a hold on the laudanum trade. Why, even the good doctor here provides laudanum to relieve the pain of her patients. Isn’t that right, Emily?”

  Dr. Downs came to life. “Prescribing laudanum is different than a laudanum pipe and you know it.”

&nb
sp; “Perhaps,” Hagen allowed, “but the desired result is the same. A temporary relief from pain. I just provide it in a different form.”

  “And for a different reason,” Trammel said. “But that’s going to be part of a separate discussion between you and me.” He looked at Rhoades, the mayor, and Emily. “If you will excuse us, I’ve got some business to talk over with Adam.”

  Hagen held up his hand as the three began to rise. “Not before Adam has finished what he came here to say.”

  Once again, he had their attention.

  “I live here, too, and despite what you all think of me, I’m not immune to your concerns, Jonah. I’ve seen the men wandering around our streets after our clients have finished their time with us.”

  “Clients.” Welch sniffed. “That’s an awfully nice way of putting it. That help you sleep better at night, Hagen?”

  Adam chose to ignore him. “That is why I have secured the services of one Dr. Jacob Moore of New Orleans. I brought him here at considerable personal expense due to his expertise with treating those who have become addicted to the drug. I’ve witnessed his methods firsthand and can attest to their effectiveness.”

  “You never struck me as a laudanum man,” Trammel said.

  “I’m not,” Hagen admitted. “I’ve always managed to effectively defile myself with whiskey. Preferably gin, when I could find it. But I’ve known many people from across the social strata who lost themselves to the smoke and I can assure you that Dr. Moore’s methods work. I’m not a medical man, but I know the good doctor would be more than happy to talk to you, Jonah, and you, Emily, at your earliest convenience, maybe even agree to an interview Rhoades.”

  Trammel spoke first. “When’s this Dr. Moore supposed to be in town?”

  “He’s already here,” Adam told them. “In the store between the Vic and the Brand. He’ll be more than happy to tend to the ailments of the other residents in due time, of course, but for now, his explicit purpose is to cure this town of its laudanum problem.”

  Mayor Welch and Emily traded glances, with Welch saying, “Want to go see this doctor now?”