North of Laramie Read online

  He smiled as he reached back and held her hand. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a formidable woman, Lilly Chase. I’m scared to death of you.”

  She pulled her hand free and lightly tapped his wound, causing him to yelp. “Two dead men on the floor and you’re trying to sweet-talk me. You’ve caused yourself a lot of trouble tonight, more than I think you know. The Bowman family won’t take kindly to one of their kin being killed tonight, much less two of them. They’ll approve of the manner of their death even less.”

  Trammel took the rag from the bar and placed it on his wound himself. “I said I’ll handle it. I always have before.”

  “Not against the likes of the Bowman clan, you haven’t.”

  He could have used this moment to explain his life to her, to tell her more than the snippets of details he had let slip over the past year. But he chose not to do that. She had hired him when he had stepped off the stage a year ago. He had been looking for a place to lose himself for a while after his career with the Pinkerton National Detective Agency had come to an end. All she knew was that he was big, could take care of himself and had kept good order in her saloon since the day he had signed on. Most people thought twice about crossing the Big Man from Back East, as he had become known, and few people had challenged him.

  Trammel had always known it would only be a matter of time before the wrong man tried to test him; to see for themselves if the big man in the lookout chair was as tough as everyone said. He hadn’t thought his test would be this bad and he certainly hadn’t counted on it coming from the likes of the Bowman clan.

  He knew he should have been more concerned, frightened, even, about going up against the might of the Bowman family. But Trammel wasn’t the least bit concerned. It just wasn’t in him to be afraid of a fight.

  It was the reason why he had been forced to quit the Pinkerton Agency in the first place.

  “I’ll handle it however you want me to handle it, Lilly. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”

  He looked up when a voice from the batwing doors of the saloon said, “You’re not going anywhere, Trammel. At least for a while.”

  Trammel recognized the lean shape of the tall man who had just pushed through the doors of The Gilded Lilly. He wasn’t as tall as Trammel, but still taller than most men. His black, wide-brimmed hat was tipped forward just enough to shield his narrow eyes and thin nose. But there was no mistaking the man with the thick moustache for anyone else, even if he didn’t have the deputy badge pinned to his black frock coat.

  “Evening, Deputy,” Trammel said. “What brings you around?”

  If Deputy Wyatt Earp found any humor in Trammel’s remark, he did not show it. “Heard about what happened. Came to see it for myself.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Evening, Miss Lilly.”

  “Evening, Deputy Earp. I’m sorry you aren’t here under better circumstances.”

  “This is Wichita, ma’am,” Earp said as he paused to look down at the bodies. “No such a thing as better circumstances, just circumstances. I’d be obliged if you’d let me have a word with your man Trammel. Alone.”

  “Of course. Can I get you something? Whiskey, coffee?”

  “No, ma’am. I won’t be here that long.”

  Lilly squeezed Trammel’s shoulder, as if trying to communicate something through her touch before she left. Whatever she was trying to say was lost on him. She disappeared into the back rooms, leaving him alone with the deputy.

  He watched Earp stride into the saloon toward the body of Tyler Bowman. Trammel had seen Earp almost every day since he had come to Wichita and always noted the way he moved. He didn’t shuffle along or race around like other men. He moved in a manner that one of his old bosses at the Pinkerton Agency once described as “an economy of effort.” He moved neither fast nor slow, not even when there was gunplay or a fistfight to be broken up. He always moved at the same steady pace. He was as sure of himself and his movements as if he had planned and practiced every motion he would make that day before he even got out of bed that morning.

  Trammel watched Earp take a knee and pull back the sheet covering Tyler Bowman’s face. The dead man’s gaze happened to fall exactly where Trammel was now sitting, as if the dead man had known exactly where the man who had taken his life would be hours after his death.

  Earp cocked his head to the side as he studied the wounds. “Heard you did this, Trammel. Caved in his skull with one punch. That true?”

  “It was a fair fight.”

  Earp kept looking at the body. “I didn’t ask you that.”

  Trammel had seen Earp in action and knew that his temper, and his ferocity, matched his own. “Yeah. I did it. But it was with two punches. First was a right that broke his jaw. The second was a left to the head. Either one could’ve killed him.”

  Earp flicked the sheet back over Tyler’s face, stood and moved over to the second corpse, taking a knee and moving the sheet from Will Bowman’s body. Trammel couldn’t see it, but he could practically feel Earp’s eyes moving over the corpse. “What happened here?”

  “He got into a fight with a drunk over cards. He reached back for a knife he had tucked in his britches. I stopped him. Think I broke his elbow in the process when he put up a struggle. I was about to throw him out when Tyler over there hit me with a whiskey bottle.”

  Earp leaned in closer to the corpse. “Looks like his neck’s broke. How’d that happen?”

  “After Tyler hit me with the bottle,” Trammel explained, “I threw Will to the side. He must’ve hit that chair as he landed.”

  Earp looked at him for the first time. “You threw him. From where?”

  “From right around where Tyler is now.”

  Earp looked back and judged the distance. “You threw him that far?”

  “That’s right.”

  Trammel saw Earp’s hat flinch as he placed the sheet back over Will’s body and stood up. “You’re a strong man.”

  Trammel didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He just kept the rag against his wound.

  Earp walked over to him until they were about a foot apart. Most people didn’t stand that close to Trammel, given his size, but Wyatt Earp wasn’t most people. “Take the rag away.”

  Trammel complied and lowered his head so the deputy could see the wounds for himself.

  Earp had obviously seen enough. “You can put the rag back on it now.”

  Trammel complied again.

  Earp moved and leaned against the bar next to him. “Judging by the amount of scars you’ve got back there, I can tell you’ve been hit with a bottle before.”

  Trammel closed his eyes. Here come the questions. “I have.”

  “You kill those men then, too?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “They all fair fights? Just like you say this one was?”

  Trammel looked up at him. “Every one of them.”

  “I thought so.” Earp looked right back at him. “And what duty might that have been?”

  Trammel looked away. The deputy was trying to get him to talk about his past. “I’d prefer not to say.”

  “Prefer doesn’t play into it, Trammel. I’d prefer to be in bed right now, but instead, I’m here talking to you with two dead men on the floor. I’d prefer not to have to explain to Old Man Bowman how two of his kin got beaten to death in The Gilded Lilly last night. And I sure as hell would prefer not to have to deal with them when they ride into town looking to kill you for what you did to their people.”

  “It was a fair fight. Legal, too. You can ask anyone who was here.”

  “Already have,” Earp said. “Got statements from ten people on my desk back at the jail right now. All of them said you were provoked. All of them saying the Bowman boys refused to leave. They all say that drunkard Hagen started it, too. That true?”

  “Will and Ty said he was cheating,” Trammel said. “I don’t know if he was or if he wasn’t. He didn’t look like he was, but I wasn’t watching the whole game, e
ither, so I can’t swear to it.”

  “You were in the lookout chair, weren’t you?”

  “And all I saw was Hagen get drunk and lose a lot. The boys were mad he bluffed them for the pot with nothing more than aces and eights. They accused him of cheating. I don’t think he was, but like I said, I can’t swear to it.”

  Earp considered that for a time. “Hagen lives here, doesn’t he? Upstairs?”

  “For the past month.”

  “Anyone ever accuse him of cheating before?”

  “Nope.” Trammel winced as he shifted the rag from one wound to the other. “He seems to win most of the time, but not enough to rankle anybody. He gets drunk mostly, and needs help up to bed, but until tonight, he’s never caused any trouble. Polite enough to the girls. Pays them extra when he uses them, which is often enough. Always pays his rent bill on time, too.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I would’ve thrown him out on his ear if he didn’t. Miss Lilly doesn’t take kindly to people who owe her money.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” Earp admitted. “She’s a kindly woman for the business she’s in, but I’ve never known her to lose money without putting up a fuss.” He looked at Trammel again. “You really have to beat those men to death tonight?”

  Trammel had seen this line of questioning before, where the topic drifts elsewhere, only to snap back to what the questioner really wanted to know. Not too long ago, Trammel was the one on the other side of the table asking the questions.

  He took the rag from his head and looked up at Earp. “I’ve seen you in plenty of scrapes like this one since I’ve come to town. Never saw you stop to crack open a Bible and read verses at them until they saw the light.”

  “Never claimed to be a preacher, Trammel. But I’ve got the law on my side. You don’t have anything except Lilly’s good graces and a room somewhere out back. That’s not going to be enough when the Bowman clan comes to call. I think a man of your experience knows that.”

  Trammel was beginning to get tired of all the talking. “You arresting me, Deputy, or running me out of town?”

  “Neither.” Earp crossed his arms and kept his eye on the door. “It was a fair fight, just like you said, and I’ve got no reason to lock you up. But there’s been plenty of talk about you since you came to town, Trammel. You know that. You’ve kept your head down as much as you can, but that just makes people talk all the more. I’ve heard you were a policeman back in New York. I’ve heard you were a Pinkerton man, too. Some say you came here by choice. Others say you got thrown out of New York, though accounts on that score vary.”

  Trammel looked up at Earp, feeling the old rage beginning to stoke in his belly again. He didn’t want another fight, but he could feel one might be coming. “Guess the only opinion that matters is yours, Deputy.”

  “What I say doesn’t matter,” Earp said. “But what you do next matters a hell of a lot. I know you’re loyal to Miss Lilly. You should be. She’s a good woman who has been good to you. Now I think the time has come for you to repay the favor. The Bowman clan is going to come looking for blood, and a lot of good people are going to die when they do.”

  “People like you?”

  Earp smiled for the first time in the year since Trammel had known him. And it wasn’t a nice smile. “No, I won’t die. But others will. Some more Bowman kin. You, too.”

  “Not likely,” Trammel said.

  “They won’t come at you head-on, but sideways,” Earp went on. “Maybe they’ll go after someone close to you, someone more vulnerable, like Miss Lilly. I wouldn’t like that. And I have a feeling you’d like it even less.”

  Trammel put the rag back on his wound. This time he didn’t wince. “No, I wouldn’t like that at all.”

  “Which would lead to more killing,” Earp said. “You get paid to enforce the peace in here, but I get paid to enforce the law everywhere. I don’t have anything against the Bowman family. Their ranch is good for the town and, on the whole, they don’t cause as much trouble as some people in this town. But I don’t want to see them dead any more than I want to see you dead. I might not know much about you, but I think you know what you have to do next. If not for your sake, then for Miss Lilly’s well-being.”

  Trammel knew. He had known it the second he’d realized both Bowman boys were dead. He just didn’t say it because saying something had a way of making it real. He didn’t want this to be real, but it was. It was as real as it got. He had to leave town. He had to leave the first real home he had ever known. “I’ll be ready to leave by sunup.”

  Earp nodded once. “Best way all around. Just don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Not me and not Miss Lilly.”

  Trammel wasn’t going to tell anyone anything. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “I remember you came in here on the coach,” Earp went on. “You need a horse? Provisions?”

  “I’ve got a horse in the livery and enough money to buy what I need if the store’s open in time.”

  “Ben Hurly opens his shop early,” Earp said. “Best hit him up first. I’ll tell him to expect you.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a box of cartridges, and placed them on the bar. “This is for that fancy Winchester I hear you keep in your room. You’re going to need them.”

  Trammel already had enough ammunition, but he appreciated the gesture all the same. “Thanks.”

  Earp pushed himself off the bar and began walking out of the saloon, slow and easy. Over his shoulder, he said, “And you’re taking Hagen with you.”

  Trammel stood before he realized it. “What? Why?”

  “The Bowman family will want his scalp as much as they want yours. I’d arrest him for disturbing the peace and inciting violence, but the old man would only kill him as soon as I cut him loose. Best if you two ride off together. Save everyone a whole lot of trouble.”

  “I’m not responsible for what happens to that drunken fool!” Trammel yelled.

  Earp didn’t break his stride. “Well, you are now.”

  “Damn it, Earp. That’s not . . . fair! Hell, I haven’t even been to bed yet.”

  “This is Wichita, Trammel. Fair’s got nothing to do with it. Besides, you’re an old Pinkerton man, and Pinkerton men never sleep. Isn’t that your motto?”

  Earp pushed his way through the batwing doors and stepped out into the dark Kansas night, leaving Stephen Trammel with only a bloody rag and no options.

  Trammel cursed as he threw the rag behind the bar.

  CHAPTER 3

  Adam Hagen woke with a gasp as a bucket of ice-cold water soaked him to the bone.

  Trammel thought the gambler would have fallen out of bed if he wasn’t already passed out on the floor of his room. “Time to get up, Hagen. We’ve got some riding to do.”

  “Writing? What kind of writing?” Hagen pulled himself up on his hands and knees, only to fall over on his side. “What are you babbling on about?”

  “Riding, as in a horse. Not writing with a pen. Get up.”

  Hagen tried to sit upright but slipped on the soaked floor. “Now, see here my good man. I’m as fond of a joke as much as the next man, but it’s far too early in the morning for a joke. And my head aches far too much for levity.”

  “And it’s too late for your nonsense.” Trammel grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up to a seated position onto the bed. He thought Hagen might fall over and was surprised when he didn’t. “We’ve got to get out of town, thanks to you, and we’ve got to get moving. Now.”

  Trammel had crammed as many of Hagen’s things as he could into a single bag, but doubted he’d grabbed a quarter of it. Even though Hagan was a drunk and a gambler, he had come to town with three trunks jammed with clothes. Trammel had asked Lilly to keep the rest and ship it to Hagen at the first place he could drop him off without the Bowman family finding him.

  “What about all of my things?” Hagen asked. “It will take me the better part of the morning to get everything together. Now, how abou
t you sit down and let’s have a drink while we discuss this like civilized gentlemen.”

  “No time for that.” He found a bowler and plopped it on Hagen’s head before taking the gambler by the arm and pulling him off the bed. He stuck the bag into his gut, which Hagen grabbed more out of reflex than intent, and pushed him out the door. “Let’s go. Now.”

  Hagen surprised Trammel by making it down the stairs on his own steam, only missing the last step, but managed to maintain his balance anyway. Trammel figured the old saying was true: “God looks out for drunks and babies.” He hoped the same extended to the people who got stuck watching out for them.

  He steered Hagen out back where he had their mounts saddled and ready. His own horse was a spirited brown roan the liveryman had told him was about four years old. She’d been a good horse to ride around the countryside on his rare days off, but he wondered how she might fare on the open trail.

  In fact, Trammel wondered how he would fare on the open trail. He had ridden after men in the past when he had been a Pinkerton and knew something about living in the open, but his assignments had usually been confined to areas along train lines and towns and cities. And he had never been in the field alone. Not that he’d be alone with Hagen along, but given the drunkard’s state of mind, he’d practically be alone until Hagen sobered up.

  He tied Hagen’s bag to the horse he had procured for Hagen, an old gray that the liveryman swore on his children could survive a trek down to Texas and back. Trammel had no intention of putting that claim to the test.

  While the gambler slumped on the back stairs of The Gilded Lilly, Trammel checked his own rig one last time. His saddlebags were stocked with enough coffee and grain to last them three days and nights, which should give them enough time to find another town and stock up.