Venom of the Mountain Man Page 13

  “And she and Mr. Wood were here last night?”

  “Indeed they were,” Rosanna said. “My brother and I had specifically provided them with tickets to the best seats in the house.”

  “And they were good seats, too. Me ’n Miz Sally . . . that is, Miz Sally and I,” Cal corrected, “were just talkin’ about it on the way back to the hotel. We were really lookin’ forward to havin’ supper with you at Delmonico’s.”

  “Yes, we were wondering why you didn’t show up. We thought perhaps you were just too tired from the long trip.”

  “No, ma’am. We didn’t show up on account of what happened to Miz Sally.”

  “Officer, you’ve got to get her back,” Rosanna said.

  “I promise you, ma’am, we’ll do all we can,” Lieutenant Kilpatrick replied.

  “I want to help,” Cal said.

  “You can help best by staying out of the way,” Lieutenant Kilpatrick said.

  “You would be making a big mistake if you exclude Cal Wood,” Andrew said. “I know him to be quite helpful in situations like this. I have seen him in action before.”

  “He’s a civilian. I have no authority to let him be involved.”

  “I’m not exactly a civilian,” Cal said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m a deputy sheriff in Eagle County, Colorado.” Kilpatrick laughed. “You’re a deputy sheriff in Eagle County, Colorado? Why, you wouldn’t even have any authority outside that county, let alone outside of the state. I’m afraid you would be a sheep among wolves, here in New York.”

  “Lieutenant, I’ve been among wolves before,” Cal said. “And grizzlies ’n mountain lions, bad outlaws, ’n even worse . . . Indians. I’m pretty sure I can handle myself among the worst you have here.”

  “Yeah? Then tell me, Wood, how did you wind up facedown on the sidewalk last night?”

  “I . . . guess you’ve got me on that one,” Cal replied timorously.

  “You go back to the hotel. If we are able to find anything out, we’ll let you know.

  Mayor Grace’s office, New York City

  “Your Honor, you have a couple visitors waiting to see you, sir,” the mayor’s administrative aide said.

  Mayor Grace looked confused. “Visitors? I thought the appointment book was completed.”

  “Yes, sir, well, these two aren’t on the appointment book. It’s Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister.”

  “Are you talking about the actors?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The mayor smiled broadly. “Well, by all means, show them in.” He stood to greet them when they entered.

  “Mr. and Mrs. MacCallister, what an honor to have you call. Oh, wait. You aren’t husband and wife. You are brother and sister, I believe.”

  “That is correct, Your Honor,” Andrew said.

  “Well, what can I do for you?”

  “We need some help for a friend of ours,” Andrew said.

  “What sort of help?”

  “First, let me show you this.” Andrew showed the mayor a dime novel—Smoke Jensen and the Rocky Mountain Gang by Ned Buntline. “Have you ever heard of this person?”

  “Ned Buntline?”

  “No, Smoke Jensen.”

  “You mean a character in a book?”

  “No, I mean Smoke Jensen. He is a real person,” Andrew said. “True, these are made-up stories about him, but his real adventures would make an even more exciting story.”

  “Why are you showing me this? Does your request have something to do with Smoke Jensen?”

  “It has to do with his wife,” Rosanna said. “Sally Jensen is here in New York now.”

  Mayor Grace smiled. “Ah, you mean she wants to meet me. Of course, bring her in. I would be glad to meet her.”

  “I’m sure she would like to meet you, Mr. Mayor,” Andrew said. “Right now I think she would be happy to meet anyone, but she can’t. She has been taken prisoner.”

  “Taken prisoner? What do you mean? Who has taken her prisoner?”

  “Lieutenant Kilpatrick thinks it might be the Irish Assembly,” Andrew said.

  Mayor Grace shook his head. “Impossible. There is no Irish Assembly anymore.”

  “True, but Kilpatrick thinks it might be some of the same men who were once a part of the Irish Assembly.”

  “All right,” Mayor Grace said. “That could be, but I’m sure the police are doing all they can to find her. What do you want me to do?”

  “Sally came to New York to see our new play,” Rosanna said. “And she brought Cal Wood with her. Cal is a young man who works for Smoke and Sally on their ranch, Sugarloaf. He wants to help look for Sally, but the police say that he has no authority to do so.”

  “Well, that’s silly. If all he wants to do is look for her, he doesn’t need any authority.”

  “But we want you to give him authority to do more than just look,” Andrew said. “We want him to have the same authority as a policeman.”

  “You want me to make him a policeman? All right. I can do that.”

  “No, we want him to work with the police, not be one. He is a deputy sheriff for Eagle County, Colorado, so it isn’t as if he has no experience in working with the law. And he has been with Smoke for some time now, which means that many of the adventures Smoke is famous for have involved Cal.”

  “Suppose I make him a special New York deputy, answerable directly to me?” Mayor Grace suggested. “That will give him the authority to work with the police, but not limit him to being a beat policeman.”

  “Yes!” Andrew replied with a big smile. “That is exactly what we were hoping you would do!”

  “If you would like to have coffee with me and tell me about your new play, I’ll have the commission drawn up while we are waiting.”

  Cal, unaware that Andrew and Rosanna were arranging for his appointment as New York City deputy sheriff, was standing at the corner where the attack had taken place. Officer Mickey Muldoon was with him.

  “’N you say that the brigand who attacked you came from here?” Muldoon pointed to the gap between the two buildings.

  “Yes. No. That is, the fella with the gun come from there, but the three men who attacked Miz Sally and me came up from behind us.”

  “How is it that you know it was three men if they were behind you?”

  “I saw them a couple times. At first I thought maybe they were just out on the street at the same time Miz Sally and I were, but then I saw that they were acting like they didn’t want to be seen.”

  “And would you for be knowin’ what time it was?”

  “I’d say it was about ten o’clock,” Cal said.

  “Ten, was it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not many on the street at ten. ’Tis goin’ to be hard findin’ a witness, I’m afraid.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Near Mule Gap

  “Here comes the coach,” Pearlie said, though his declaration wasn’t necessary.

  Even as Smoke was rolling up his blankets he could hear the coach approaching—the drum of hooves, the squeak and rattle of the coach, and the shouts of the driver.

  Smoke and Pearlie stepped out to the side of the road and watched as the coach rolled by. Smoke was glad to see that Sara Sue was sitting next to the window, but though they made no overt acknowledgment, it was evident that they did see each other.

  “What’ll we do now? Are we goin’ to follow the coach into town?” Pearlie asked.

  “We won’t exactly follow it, I mean, not to the degree that we can keep it in sight, but I think, after a few minutes, we will go on into town.”

  * * *

  “Did you know them two cowboys, miss?” the man sitting on the seat across from her asked. He appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties, and had a narrow face, a sharp nose, and a small mustache.

  “What two cowboys?”

  “The two men standing alongside the road. I saw you looking at them, and was wonderin’ if, perhaps, you know’d �
�em.”

  “No, why? Is there any reason I should?”

  “No, ma’am, none that I can think of. It’s just that they seemed to be payin’ an awful lot of attention to you. ’Course, you bein’ a seemly lookin’ woman, I can see as how they mighta took a second look at you.”

  Before Sara Sue could respond, a sudden gust of wind came in through the open windows, carrying upon its breath a great and smothering billow of dust. For a moment the cloud of dust so filled the coach one couldn’t see from one side to the other.

  “Oh, heavens!” Sara Sue said, coughing and fanning herself.

  “That’s the trouble when you’re a-travelin’ on a real clear day,” the narrow-faced passenger said. “But then, all things considered, I reckon I’d rather put up with a few clouds of dust, now ’n then, than a pourin’ rain comin’ in ’n gettin’ ever’ thing ’n ever’one soakin’ wet.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “What’s your business in comin’ to Mule Gap?” the man asked.

  “Sir! With all due respect, my business isn’t any of your business,” Sara Sue replied.

  The other passenger chuckled. “No ma’am, I guess you’re right. Anyhow, we’re comin’ into Mule Gap now.”

  Sara Sue looked through the window and saw the buildings passing by—at first a scattering of houses, then business buildings, until, finally, the coach came to a halt.

  She exited the coach and checked in to the Del Rey Hotel, requesting that a bathtub and water be brought to her room.

  * * *

  “I don’t know if she’s got the money with her or not, but she come alone,” the thin-faced, mustachioed man said.

  “Very good.”

  “You said I’d get paid for it.”

  “If she has the money, we’ll all enjoy a payday soon.”

  “All right. Just so’s you know I done my part, even if I wasn’t one o’ them what went down into Colorado and took the boy.”

  * * *

  One hour after the stagecoach rolled into Mule Gap, Sara Sue Condon, feeling much cleaner, presented herself at the Bank of Mule Gap.

  “Yes, ma’am,” the teller said.

  “I should like to speak with Mr. Kennedy,” Sara Sue said.

  “May I tell him what it’s about?”

  “Yes, I intend to make a rather sizeable deposit.”

  “Why, ma’am, you don’t need to see Mr. Kennedy to do that. I can take care of it for you.”

  “I would prefer to see—”

  “It’s all right, Mr. May, I’ll see the young lady,” Kennedy said. “Madam, would you like to speak in my office?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Sara Sue said, following the banker into an office that opened off the back of the room.

  “Now, you said something about a rather sizeable deposit, I believe?”

  “Yes, but I think I should tell you, I don’t expect it to be here for very long.”

  “Oh? You are about to make a purchase in our town, perhaps?”

  “No, Mr. Kennedy. I’m about to pay the ransom for the release of my son.”

  “Oh. You must be Mrs. Condon,” Kennedy said. “Yes, I heard about your unfortunate experience. You have my best wishes for the safe return of the boy.”

  “How did you know about it?” Sara Sue asked.

  “Your neighbor, Mr. Jensen, told me.”

  “Oh, yes. He delivered a bull to Mr. Harris for us. And of course, he is aware of what happened.”

  “Are you disturbed that I know about it?” Kennedy asked solicitously.

  “No, I suppose not. I guess it was only obvious that he might have said something about it. He wanted to offer his help in some way, but I told him no. In the first place, what, exactly could he do? And in the second place, the ransom note demanded that I be alone, and I’ve no doubt but that means I don’t allow anyone else to get involved. My number one priority, Mr. Kennedy, and I’m sure you can understand, is to get my son back. I will do nothing to jeopardize that.”

  “I quite understand,” Kennedy said. “So you will be depositing the full amount requested by the brigands who have taken your son?”

  “Yes, I have a fifteen-thousand-dollar draft from the bank in Big Rock,” Sara Sue said.

  Kennedy nodded. “I will personally set up the account for you,” he promised.

  * * *

  “We’d like two rooms, please,” Smoke said to the desk clerk of the Del Rey Hotel.

  “Yes, sir,” the clerk replied, turning the registration book around to Smoke.

  As Smoke signed in, he saw that the name just above his was Mrs. Sam Condon. He also took note of her room number, which was 207.

  “How long will you gentlemen be staying with us?” the clerk asked, after Pearlie added his name to the book.

  “I don’t know for sure,” Smoke replied. “It depends on how our business goes.”

  After he and Pearlie received their keys, they climbed the stairs to the second floor, then Smoke knocked on the door of Sara Sue’s room.

  “Yes, who is it?” a hesitant voice called from the other side of the door.

  Smoke recognized the voice as belonging to Sara Sue. “Mrs. Smith?” he called. It was the signal that had been worked out between them.

  “You have the wrong room,” Sara Sue replied.

  That, too, was a signal, and it told Smoke that she wasn’t alone.

  “I beg your pardon, ma’am.” Smoke glanced at Pearlie, who was also aware of the meaning of the response.

  Pearlie stepped down to one of the hall lights, a sconce lantern attached to the wall just by the head of the stairs. From that position he enjoyed a view of the door to Sara Sue’s room, as well as the sofa in the lobby below. He removed the globe to the lantern as if working on it, and Smoke went down to the lobby and sat on the sofa. He picked up the newspaper and began to “read” it, though he kept an eye on the top of the stairs, ready to receive a signal from Pearlie.

  * * *

  Sara Sue was comforted to know that Smoke was there. She had responded in a way that let him know that she wasn’t alone in her room. A man who had identified himself as Fred Keefer was in the room with her. He was the representative from the kidnappers.

  “Who was that at the door?” Keefer asked.

  “I don’t know. You heard him. He was looking for someone named Smith.”

  “You didn’t bring anyone with you, did you?”

  “You were in the lobby of the hotel when I arrived,” Sara Sue said. “I saw you sitting on the sofa. You know that I came alone.”

  “There could have been someone waiting outside.”

  “There could have been, but there wasn’t.”

  “Did you bring the money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is it?”

  “It’s in the bank.”

  “It ain’t supposed to be in the bank. You’re supposed to have the money with you,” Keefer said, his tone of voice little more than a growl.

  “My husband said that I shouldn’t pay the money until I have proof that Thad is still alive and unharmed.”

  “I can tell you he is still alive, ’n he ain’t been hurt none.”

  “I’m sorry, but your word isn’t good enough,” Sara Sue said. “I shall require more proof than that.”

  “What kind of proof? You want me to bring a piece of his shirt or somethin’?”

  “No, I want a note from Thad written in his own hand, telling me that he is unharmed.”

  “I ain’t got a note like that.”

  “When you can provide me with that note, I’ll give you half the money,” Sara Sue said.

  “Half the money? What do you mean, ‘half the money’? If you want your boy back alive, you’re goin’ to have to come up with all the money.”

  “And I will,” Sara Sue promised. “Half when I see a note from Thad, telling me he is all right, and the other half when my son is delivered safely to me.”

  “I don’t think the chief is goin’ t
o like that,” Keefer said.

  “I would think that it would depend upon how much he wants the money, wouldn’t you?”

  “Seems to me like you ain’t in no position to be makin’ any demands,” Keefer said. “Especially since we have your boy.”

  “Do you know how much reward money Bob Ford was paid for killing Jesse James?” Sara Sue asked.

  Keefer shook his head. “What? No, I don’t have no idea. Why would you ask such a fool question, anyway?”

  “It was ten thousand dollars,” Sara Sue said. “If we don’t get my son back alive and unharmed, my husband and I will use this ransom money to establish a reward of five thousand dollars to be paid for each of you, Mr. Keefer—you and the other two men who took Thad. Oh, and this won’t be a dead-or-alive reward. It will only be paid when we have proof that you are dead.”

  “Maybe there’s somethin’ you don’t understand. The three of us ain’t the only ones that’s a part of this. Iffen we was to get kilt, your boy would still be a prisoner,” Keefer said.

  “What difference would that make to you?” Sara Sue challenged.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “It’s a simple question. If you are dead, then it won’t make any difference to you whether my boy is still a prisoner or not, will it? And when you think about it, nothing in the entire world will make any difference to you, because you will be dead. On the other hand, if you deliver my son to me in as good health as he was when you took him, why, you and your friends will be fifteen thousand dollars richer. I would think it would be to your personal advantage to see that is done.

  “Now, do you really want to pass up the seventy-five hundred dollars that I’ll give you after I have proof that my son is alive and well, and the other seventy-five hundred dollars that will paid upon safe delivery of my son?”

  “I’ll . . . uh . . . see the others ’n see what they have to say,” Keefer said.

  “You do that.”

  “It might be a while before we get back to you.”