The Intruders Read online

  The look in Hagen’s eyes did not fade, but Trammel was glad when he began to lower his gun.

  Bookman grinned. “Glad you listened to reason for once in your life, boy.”

  Now Trammel moved between the two men. “Shut your mouth, Bookman. He’s still liable to kill you, and I’m of half a mind to let him. Say what you came to say or get out. But if you’ve come to get the Allan boys, you’re out of luck. I’ll be holding them for a while longer, until the poison is out of their system.”

  “You can keep them until hell freezes over for all Mr. Hagen cares,” Bookman said. “They don’t work for us anymore. No, I just came here at the request of Mr. Hagen.” Bookman looked around Trammel at Adam. “The real Mr. Hagen. He sent me here to give you a warning.”

  Trammel turned to face him directly and took a couple of slow steps toward him. “A warning? That sounds like a threat to me.”

  Bookman leaned against the doorframe and hooked his thumb in a belt loop, real relaxed. “No threat, Sheriff, but a true warning. You’ve got big trouble coming your way, and soon.”

  “What else is new?” Trammel stopped a few feet in front of the man. “What kind of trouble are you talking about?”

  Bookman nodded toward Adam. “His kind. The laudanum kind.”

  “Quit talking in riddles, Bookman,” Adam said. “You don’t have the brain for it.”

  “Then I’ll speak plain. Mr. Hagen is letting go all the men who got themselves hooked on Adam’s dope. He’s cutting them loose today, and we imagine the first place they’ll hit is here, for their smoke.” A thin smile appeared on his face. “We’re giving them all two weeks’ pay, which is more than they deserve. But we figure they’ll spend it all on whores and pipe smoke. Your friend back there will make a pile of money. We have no doubt of that.”

  Bookman looked up at Trammel. “And you’re going to have your hands full with twenty men hopped up with no place to go and no money in their pockets.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Adam said. “That’ll leave the ranch with only ten hands. The Blackstone’s got too many cattle and horses for ten men to handle. My father isn’t that stupid.”

  “He’s not your father,” Bookman reminded him. “But you’re right about him not being stupid. We’re hiring on twenty new men from a ranch back East. It’s more than we need, but we figure some trouble might be coming our way, so they might come in handy.”

  “Splendid!” Adam cheered. “My dens are always happy to welcome new customers.” He walked toward Bookman, his Colt still at his left side. “And they will come to me. You know that. The sweet smell of my pipes drifts far and wide.”

  Trammel held out an arm to keep him from getting too close to Bookman, especially with that gun still in his hand. “That’s far enough, Adam.”

  Adam did not try to get around him. “Tell me something. How does he like the production of his mines dropping off thanks to my customers? By my estimation, he’s probably off by twenty percent or more.”

  “Mines aren’t my concern,” Bookman said, “but those new hires are. And they’ll be given strict instructions to stay away from those dens of yours. Any man who comes back from town smelling of pipe will be fired on the spot.” It was his turn to look happy. “And these boys have traveled a long way for a good-paying job to risk that on your nonsense.”

  Hagen forced a laugh. “Oh, John. Your gullibility is almost endearing. Whole empires have been gained and lost because of the allure of my product. Emperors have fallen to the smoke I provide. King Charles Hagen will be no different.”

  Bookman shook his head. “All them pretty words in such a rotten mind.” He looked at Trammel again. “We expect you’ll be on our side of all this, Sheriff. It’s no secret that you hate his dens as much as we do. We know you’ve had your differences with us in the past, but Mr. Hagen is willing to set all that aside for the sake of justice.”

  Trammel took another step closer to Bookman. “He stuck a shotgun in my face. You held a gun to my head. You might be willing to let that slide, but I’m not.”

  Bookman shrugged. “We know you and your friend over there are mighty close, so Mr. Hagen also wanted me to tell you that if you don’t handle the dens, we will. Our own way.”

  Trammel snatched Bookman by the shirt and pulled him off the doorframe. “Seeing as how you’re so good at delivering messages, you be sure to tell him this from me. I’m paid to enforce the law in town, and anyone who breaks it winds up dead or in a cell. Their choice. That goes for Adam’s customers or whatever lynching party you send down here. You got that?”

  Bookman looked brave for a man who had almost been lifted off his feet when he said, “Anything else?”

  Trammel gripped him tighter. “As a matter of fact, there is.” He shoved the ramrod hard and sent him spilling off the boardwalk and into Main Street. “Next time, knock.”

  Trammel reached back and slammed the door.

  Adam rushed to open it again, but Trammel kept his hand on the door.

  Adam screamed at Bookman anyway. “You tell that old buzzard his days are numbered, Bookman. You hear me? Numbered!”

  Trammel shoved Hagen flat against the door and pinned him there. “What I said to him goes for you, too, Adam. You break the law, you get a bullet or a cell. Understand me?”

  Hagen held up his hands to show he was calm, and Trammel let him go but kept his hand on the door.

  The dandy straightened his coat and fixed his hat. “You’ll have no trouble from me, at least nothing worse than I’m already doing. And if my plans fall into place, the only gunshot you’ll hear is my beloved uncle blowing his brains out.” He glared up at the sheriff without a hint of fear or hesitation in his eyes. “That’s a promise.”

  Trammel pushed him aside as he opened the door to look outside. He was glad to see there was no sign of Bookman anywhere.

  He opened the door fully. “Time for you to leave, Hagen.”

  “So now it’s back to Hagen again, is it?” The man laughed. “That’s fine, Buck. Have it your way. But before all is said and done, you’ll be back at my side, which is right where you belong.”

  Hagen touched the brim of his hat and began to leave the jail, but Trammel gave him a parting word. “You’d better do something about that hate in your belly, Adam. It’ll hollow you out until you’ve got nothing left. I’ve seen it happen to men before. I’d hate to see it happen to you.”

  Hagen stopped without turning around. “It’s touching to know you still care. But don’t worry about me. I was born hollow.”

  Trammel was relieved when he turned left and walked back to the Clifford Hotel. There would be no showdown between Adam and Bookman. At least not that day.

  “Hey, boss!” Hawkeye called out as he crossed over from the other side of Main Street. He was carrying a sack of coffee from Robertson’s store, along with some other provisions. “What’d I miss?”

  “Plenty,” Trammel told him. “Nothing that would’ve done you any good to see.”

  “Well, speaking of seeing things,” Hawkeye said as he walked into the jail, “did you see all the excitement in town?”

  Trammel let out a heavy breath. He’d had his share of excitement for one day. “Let me guess. We’re surrounded by Sioux.”

  “Of course not,” Hawkeye said as he set down the provisions on the desk. “The Sioux never came this far south, at least according to what I know.”

  Trammel knew he had never been good at sarcasm, and Hawkeye’s reaction only proved it. “What is it, then?”

  “A fancy lady just rode into town,” Hawkeye told him. “Didn’t come in on the stage either. Came in riding a freighter packed to the gills with stuff. Has this big black fella with her, too. Bigger than you, even. He doesn’t talk much, but his face says plenty on its own. All scarred up and such. Scariest man I’ve ever seen.”

  Given that Hawkeye had spent his entire life in Blackstone, Trammel did not think much of his judgment on that score. Still, a new arrival made him
curious. “Know what they’re doing here?”

  “They’ve moved into one of those new buildings Mr. Hagen opened up the street,” Hawkeye said. “Mr. Robertson said they rode into town a little while ago.”

  Trammel was less than pleased. The last thing Blackstone needed was another saloon. He walked over to the stove and poured himself another cup of coffee. It was still hot, and now that they had new grounds, he could make himself a fresh pot. “What’ll they call this place?”

  “I knew that even before Mr. Robertson did,” Hawkeye boasted. “I saw the sign they’re going to hang over the door. It was lashed to the side of the wagon. It’s a pretty name, too. ‘The Gilded Lily.’”

  Trammel almost dropped the cup. “What did you just say?”

  “I said it’s called ‘the Gilded Lily.’” Hawkeye looked at his boss. “At least that’s what the sign said. Why? You know it?”

  “Know it?” Trammel said as he grabbed his hat off the rack and pulled it on his head. “I used to work there.”

  He slammed the jailhouse door as he went to see if it was really her.

  Just when he thought his life couldn’t get more complicated, Lilly comes back into his life.

  He cast a look up to the sky and spoke to whoever might be listening. “You sure like to keep things interesting, don’t you?”

  CHAPTER 7

  He saw Miss Lilly Maine standing on the boardwalk at the new section of Main Street that Adam Hagen had bought and built upon. It was a corner building that Hagen had built with a saloon in mind if he could find the right tenant for it.

  It looked like Hagen had done precisely that, only this time he reached back into their shared past and chose her.

  Trammel was glad she had not changed much in the year or so since he had fled Wichita. He imagined a year was not very long, but the journey from Kansas to Wyoming was not an easy one. So much time spent traveling and camping could take a toll on someone as delicate as Miss Lilly. She still sported a nest of black, curly hair pinned up beneath a violet hat that matched the color of her dress. Her complexion was what some might call dusky and she had been mistaken for Mexican many times while Trammel had worked for her. She told everyone her grandparents were from a place called Belgium, and although Trammel knew it was over in Europe, he did not know exactly where. He did not care where it was, though he had always been grateful that her ancestors had come to America.

  The Gilded Lily Saloon had been a refuge for Trammel when he had left his old life behind and headed west. Miss Lilly had given him a job as the bouncer in the saloon that bore her name. He had only worked there for a year before his troubles with the Bowman clan forced him to run. But that year had felt like a lifetime to Trammel. It had allowed his conscience to heal and reminded him that there was more to life than killing. He had feared he might forget that upon coming to Blackstone with Hagen, but he had not.

  He remembered the kindness she had shown him when others only feared him. A gentle breeze along Main Street carried the subtle scent of the rosewater she favored since the day he had told her he liked it.

  And although they had never been lovers, Trammel had always thought of them as being together.

  It was not until she turned and looked his way that he realized he had been standing there gawking at her like a fool.

  Her entire face brightened, and he felt himself smiling. “Steve? Is that you?”

  She was running to him before he could answer her and wrapped her arms around his middle. “It is you!”

  Although they were in public, he returned her embrace. She was half his height and the feather from her hat grazed his chin.

  Lilly pulled away from him. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again.” She pulled him down and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I hope you won’t hold it against me, but Adam and I wanted this to be a surprise.”

  He remembered Hagen had told him there would be some new surprises in town, but he had never counted on Lilly being one of them. “I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you. What made you leave Wichita?”

  “Business dried up,” she said. “Your run-ins with the Bowman family set the whole town against me. At first it was good for business. Everyone wanted to have a drink at the saloon where Trammel and Hagen once were. But after your dustup with the Pinkertons, the Bowman family cursed me and told everyone to stay away from my place. They still had a lot of sway in town, so that meant I was all finished in Kansas. I’d heard Adam was building up the town and looking for a couple of new saloon keepers for Main Street. So I packed up the whole place, loaded the sign on a freighter, and here I am.”

  He took a closer look at her and could not believe what he saw. “You don’t look like you’ve just spent a lot of time on the trail to me.”

  “Oh, I didn’t,” she told him. “Adam paid for me and Big Ben here, to load our freight on the train to Laramie. We unloaded the freighter and came straight here.”

  That was when Trammel noticed the large Negro man unloading the sign from the side of the freighter. For once, Hawkeye had not exaggerated what he saw. The man was at least Trammel’s size, maybe bigger. He hauled the long sign into the saloon as if he was carrying a single piece of wood.

  “He sure is strong,” Trammel observed.

  “He had to be. I had to find someone to replace you after you left me in the lurch like you did.” She linked her arm through his and pulled on him to follow her, which he gladly did. “Come, let me introduce you to him and show you the new place. We’ve only just begun to unload our things, of course, but we should be ready to open in a day or two.”

  She pressed her face against his biceps and gave him a good squeeze. “God, it’s good to see you again, Steve.”

  She made him glad to be seen. “They call me Buck around here. That was Hagen’s idea. Said no one was afraid of anyone named Steve.”

  “Then Buck it is, except when we’re alone.” She remained close to him as they walked past the vacant buildings Hagen had just built. The air was thick with the pleasant smell of fresh-cut wood and sawdust. “Adam told me you’ve had quite a rough time of it since you got here. One bit of trouble after another.”

  Trammel was curious. “Sounds like Adam told you a lot.”

  “You know him. Drunk or sober, he was always talking about one thing or another. Sometimes I think he talks just to hear the sound of his own voice. But he writes the most charming letters. He should write a book one of these days. He’s got quite a gift for storytelling.”

  “And for causing some of that trouble he wrote you about,” Trammel said. “What kind of place are you planning on opening, anyway?”

  “Same as back in Wichita,” she told him. “Plenty of good whiskey and card tables. Might even put in a roulette wheel if Adam can get one for me. He said he knows of an old paddle wheel in New Orleans that’s no longer fit for the water. He put in a bid on it for me and we should know if we got it any day now.” She squeezed him again. “Oh, it’s just like old times again, isn’t it, Steve? You and me and Adam together again. Only this time it’ll be better. Quieter and happy.”

  But Trammel knew the old times were not so old. He had only worked for her for a little more than a year, and Hagen had only lived at the old Gilded Lily for a short time before they got run out of town. He remembered it as a bland, endless time of minding drunks and gambling tables. It had been a healing time for him, so if that was something she considered good, it was just fine in his book. Her moods had always been infectious for him, especially when she was happy.

  But her dealings with Hagen concerned him. “Sounds like you and Adam have gotten awfully close.”

  She stopped walking and pulled him up short. She had a mischievous look in her hazel eyes. “Why, Sheriff Trammel. Did I just hear a hint of jealousy in your voice?”

  He did not want to offend her on her first day in town. “No. Just curious, is all.”

  She let out a heavy sigh and pulled him along with her again. “I see we still have to work on
your more charming qualities. And to answer your question, any connection between Adam and me is on a strictly business basis. He needed a saloon keeper and I needed a saloon, so here I am.” She dropped her voice to a whisper as she said, “But knowing you were here was all the inducement I needed to come to Wyoming.”

  He felt himself blush and was glad to see Big Ben walk out onto the boardwalk and stop when he saw them.

  “Ah, perfect timing!” Lilly exclaimed. “Steve—I mean Buck Trammel—meet Big Ben London, your replacement.”

  Now that they were closer, Trammel could see just how big the man was. He stood about six-feet-eight-inches tall and was built like a mountain. He saw the scars on his face that Hawkeye had told him about, and imagined each one of them hurt. His left eye was clouded over, and he wondered if he could still see through it. His neck bore a nasty set of scars that Trammel knew was either from a rope or a chain around his neck. He would have wagered the man had once been a slave or had been lynched at one point in his life. Trammel did not know which and did not need to know. Either way, this man had seen his share of pain in his life and had survived it.

  Trammel extended a hand to him and said, “Pleasure to meet you. Hope you’ve been taking care of Lilly, here.”

  Ben shook his hand, but applied more pressure than Trammel had counted on. Seeing it clearly as a test of strength, Trammel replied in kind and saw a flash of pain on the big man’s face.

  They let go at the same time.

  Lilly had seen the contest, but clearly chose to ignore it. “Don’t hold Ben’s silence against him. He hasn’t been able to speak since before he fled Georgia.” She rubbed the big man’s arm. “He’s been my special project, though. Taught him how to read and write. Now he writes beautifully, don’t you, Ben?”