Authors: J.A. Johnstone

Hard Luck Money (6 page)

BOOK: Hard Luck Money

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Chapter 11

“Mr. Morgan. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on you.”

“It’s all right. What can I do for you, Miss Lupo?”

“I can come back later,” she offered.

The Kid shook his head. “That’s not necessary.”

He supposed she had talked to Hughes and knew he was going to help the Rangers with their plan after all. She had probably come to thank him, but he wasn’t really in the mood for it. He wasn’t doing it to help her, but rather to distract himself.

He decided it was best to get the conversation out of the way. “Go ahead and say whatever it is you came here to say.”

She drew in a deep breath and her chin came up a little. “All right. But may I come in first?”

The water, fed by a tank on the roof of the building, didn’t run very fast, so he knew it would still be a few minutes before the tub was full. He stepped back, holding onto the edge of the door. “Sure. Come on in.”

Katherine stepped past him, and he closed the door behind her. If she wasn’t worried about being alone in a hotel room with a man who was stripped to the waist, he wasn’t going to worry about protecting her maidenly sensibilities. He turned to face her and found that she was regarding him with a frank stare.

“I’ve thought about it a great deal,” she said, “and I’m convinced you’re the only man who can prove my father wasn’t a killer. Accomplishing that means a great deal to me. So I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to persuade you to go along with Captain Hughes’s plan.” With that, she reached up and started to unbutton the top button of her blouse.

“Wait just a minute,” The Kid said sharply. “You’re saying that you’re willing to go to bed with me to get me to do what you want?”

For a second she looked like she wanted to bolt, but he could almost see her spine stiffening with resolve as she said, “That’s right.” The top button was undone, and her fingers were headed for the second one.

“Miss Lupo.” The Kid reached out and took hold of her wrists. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind. Really.”

He could tell she was trying to make her eyes bold as she looked at him. He didn’t let go of her wrists as he said, “You haven’t been to Ranger headquarters since earlier in the day, have you?”

“No, I ... I’ve been thinking about what I need to do.”

“It’s not this,” The Kid said. “Don’t think I wasn’t tempted for a second. I’m as human as the next man. But I have to tell you the truth. I’ve already told Captain Hughes and Sergeant Culhane that I’ll go along with their plan.”

Katherine’s bright blue eyes widened. “Oh. Oh!” She pulled back, and The Kid released her wrists. “Then you must think I’m some sort of ... of loose woman—”

“I think you’re a woman who loves her father and wants to clear his name,” The Kid interrupted her. “That’s all. At this point, it’s the only thing you can still do for him, so it’s very important to you. There’s no shame in that.”

Unable to meet his eyes, she looked down and hurriedly fastened the button she had undone. “I’m not ashamed,” she said with a trace of defiance in her voice. “I probably should be. But I was desperate.”

“I understand,” The Kid said.

“When you opened the door and I saw you standing there ... like that ... I took it as an omen ...”

“I thought you were the waiter bringing my supper,” The Kid explained. “I’m not in the habit of parading around shirtless in front of women I don’t really know. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“That’s all right. I should go.” A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Although you really, ah, don’t owe me an apology.”

It had taken him a long time to get over his wife’s death and reach a point where he was willing to admit to the human needs he still felt. Lace was the only woman who’d been able to get beyond the wall of grief and resolve he had built. At least, she was the only woman so far ...

If things had been different, he might have been intrigued enough by Katherine Lupo to consider getting to know her better. Under the circumstances, with him still smarting from Lace leaving earlier, he knew it wouldn’t be smart.

Also, as soon as Hughes and Culhane had everything set up, he would be leaving for Huntsville with a Ranger escort, for all intents and purposes a prisoner. So it was a terrible time all around to be getting romantically involved with anyone.

“Maybe we’ll see each other again before things get started,” he said.

“Maybe. If not ... I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing, Mr. Morgan. I know you’re risking your life, and I have no right to ask you to do something like that.”

“I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t want to.”

“I know. Still, I appreciate it so much.”

For a second he wondered if she was about to offer to go to bed with him to thank him for what he was doing, but then another knock sounded on the door. He thought he was a little relieved by that. “That’s bound to be my supper this time.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” She turned toward the door.

“Hold on a minute. You’re not worried about your reputation?”

He knew if the waiter saw her leaving the room, with him stripped to the waist, there was liable to be gossip about her.

She shook her head. “The only reputation I’m worried about is my father’s, and you’re going to help repair that. I’ve made my peace knowing he was a bank robber. I can live with that. But I don’t want people thinking he was a murderer, too.”

The Kid hoped for her sake that was how the whole thing was going to turn out.

He went to the door and opened it. A waiter in a red jacket stood there, all right, with a tray containing several covered dishes in his hands.

“The lady was just leaving,” The Kid said as Katherine stepped past him. The waiter moved aside to give her some room. The Kid saw the man’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of her, but a quick glare from him made the waiter’s expression turn neutral again.

Katherine turned back long enough to say, “Thank you, Mr. Morgan. Good night.”

“Good night,” he told her with a nod. Then he jerked a thumb to indicate the waiter should bring in the food.

The man stepped inside and placed the tray on a table. He straightened to find The Kid had drawn the Mauser from its holster. The sight of the odd looking but definitely menacing pistol made the man’s face turn pale. He swallowed hard as he stared at it.

The Kid held the gun down at his side. In his other hand he had a twenty dollar gold piece he had taken from the pocket of his trousers. He held the coin up so the waiter could see it.

“Your choice is pretty simple,” The Kid said. “You can keep your mouth shut about what you just saw and earn yourself this double eagle. Or you can spread rumors. If you do and they get back to me, I’ll know who started them. You understand me, amigo?”

The waiter licked dry lips. “Yes, sir, I sure do. And that gold piece looks mighty nice to me.”

“I thought maybe it would.” The Kid flipped the double eagle toward the waiter, who plucked it deftly from the air. “I’ll put the dishes in the hall when I’m through with them.”

“Yes, sir!” The waiter couldn’t leave fast enough.

The Kid smiled, shook his head, and slid the Mauser back into its holster. He went into the bathroom and turned off the water in the tub, which was about to overflow. Then he sat down to eat his supper before he started his soak in the steaming water.

He tried not to think about Katherine Lupo, but that proved to be quite a challenge.

Chapter 12

The Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville was ugly as hell, The Kid thought, but at least it wasn’t a hole in the ground like Hellgate Prison over in New Mexico Territory. In Hellgate, the prisoners’ cells had been blasted out of the rock itself. The Kid had never seen a place any more bleak and depressing.

The prison at Huntsville might wind up running it a close second.

He rode in an enclosed wagon with small, barred windows in front and back. He could see the prison when he looked through the window in front, past Asa Culhane’s shoulder.

Culhane rode on the seat next to the driver, a shotgun cradled across his lap. Four more Rangers, each of them heavily armed, flanked the wagon on horseback.

The Kid sat on a hard wooden bench, wearing leg irons and manacles connected by a length of chain. He knew he would barely shuffle along when he got out of the wagon.

He’d been wearing the restraints only for the past twenty miles or so. No reason for him to be uncomfortable all the way from San Antonio, Culhane had said, although The Kid had traveled the whole journey inside the wagon.

Just in case the gang they were after had anybody watching the approaches to the prison, Culhane had called a halt a couple hours earlier and told The Kid through the window to go ahead and snap the irons into place. The metal had already started to chafe his skin, even though he hadn’t worn the irons for very long.

“There it is, Keene,” Culhane called in a booming voice through the window as he turned his head to look toward The Kid. “Your home for the next twenty years.”

“That’s good,” The Kid said. “You ever think about going on the stage, Asa? Becoming an actor?”

Culhane chuckled. “Reckon you and me ought to team up and go on the stage. I can sing and dance a mite, tell a few jokes.”

“No thanks,” The Kid said. “Making everybody in there think I’m Waco Keene is all the playacting I’m interested in doing.”

The other five Rangers with Culhane were in on the plan, of course, and Warden Jennings was expecting them. Other than Captain Hughes and Katherine Lupo back in San Antonio, no one else knew Kid Morgan had taken the place of the late Waco Keene, and that was the way it had to remain.

The wagon drew to a halt in front of the prison’s main gate. A couple blue-uniformed guards carrying shotguns came out of a guardhouse to greet Culhane.

“Six Rangers?” one of them said with a grin. “Whoever you’ve got locked up in that wagon, he must be a ring-tailed terror!”

“He’s a bad hombre, all right,” Culhane said as he handed down some papers to the guard. “Train robber and shootist named Keene.”

“Yeah, I heard he was comin’ in,” the other guard said. “Papers look all right, Casey?”

The first guard grunted and handed the papers back to Culhane. “Yeah, signal the fellas inside to open the gate.”

The second man went back into the guardhouse, and a moment later the big metal gate began rolling back. The Ranger handling the team of horses drove through and had to stop again at a wooden gate topped with barbed wire. The guards manning it didn’t unlock it and swing it open until the outer gate had closed behind the wagon and its escort.

The gates were well guarded, The Kid thought, and yet Quint Lupo and the other prisoners had been able to get out through a single sally port leading from the administrative area where the infirmary was located to the outside.

During the past week, The Kid had gone over every known detail about Lupo’s escape with Hughes and Culhane. He wondered if that weakness in the prison’s security had been addressed since Lupo’s escape.

Once through the second gate, the Rangers were directed to the part of the sprawling prison compound where the offices were. The Kid supposed the routine varied from prison to prison, but he knew from his time at Hellgate that new prisoners would be processed in, examined by a doctor, issued a convict’s uniform, and might even be spoken to by the warden. He figured in his case, that was a pretty safe bet. Warden Jennings would want to have a word with a notorious new convict like Waco Keene.

As the wagon came to a halt in front of one of the stone buildings, The Kid heard an unfamiliar voice say, “We can take him from here, Ranger. Just unlock the back of that wagon.”

“No, sir.” That was Culhane. “I ain’t turnin’ this one over to anybody except the warden his own self. He ain’t your run-of-the-mill owlhoot.”

The other man snickered. “Who have you got in there, the second comin’ of Jesse James?”

“Reckon he might’ve turned out to be as bad as ol’ Jesse if the law hadn’t got lucky enough to nab him now. Name of Waco Keene.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard some talk about him. You say you want to hand him over to the warden?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I guess it’s all right if you stay with him while we’re gettin’ him checked in. I’ll go let Mr. Jennings know you’re here.”

“Much obliged, son,” Culhane said.

The Kid felt the wagon shift as Culhane and the driver climbed down from the seat. A moment later, a key rattled in the heavy padlock holding the thick wooden door at the back of the vehicle closed.

The door swung open, letting more sunlight into the enclosed wagon. The Kid had to squint a little against the glare.

“Climb on out of there, Keene,” Culhane ordered sternly. “And don’t try anything or you’ll be sorry. So says me and this scattergun.”

The Kid grinned to himself. Culhane was putting on a pretty good performance, but he needed somebody to write better dialogue for him.

The wagon was parked in front of a squat stone building as unappealing as all the other buildings inside the prison. The area housed the offices, the infirmary, the guards’ barracks for those who didn’t live nearby in the town of Huntsville, storage buildings, and everything else that made the prison a nearly self-sufficient operation.

Beyond the area were more fences and walls cutting it off from the prison’s main buildings, large, hulking gray structures where the prisoners were housed. The kitchen and the laundry, which were manned by convicts, were there, too, and in the center of those buildings was the exercise yard.

The layout wasn’t that different from Hellgate, The Kid saw as he climbed awkwardly out of the wagon and looked around. He supposed most prisons were similar. There was no point in getting fancy to keep men locked up.

The Rangers surrounded him, along with three blue-uniformed prison guards wearing stiff-billed black caps. Trying not to overdo it, The Kid put a sneer on his face as he looked at them. He hadn’t shaved for several days, so brown stubble covered his cheeks.

“Follow me, Keene,” one of the guards said.

The Kid didn’t move for a second, just long enough to make it clear he wasn’t going to jump to obey, then reluctantly shuffled along behind the guard. Having his ankles shackled made him feel like he was about to pitch forward onto his face, and he didn’t like it at all. The sensation stirred up bitter memories of the time he’d spent in Hellgate.

They went into one of the ugly buildings and along a corridor to a room empty except for a bench along one wall.

“You’ll take your clothes off here,” the guard said.

As much as the chain connecting his wrists to his ankles would allow him, The Kid lifted his hands to display the iron fetters. “That’s gonna be kind of hard.”

The guard gave him an unpleasant smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll get ’em off you.”

The guards closed in and cut The Kid’s clothes off. Of course, the garments weren’t actually his. They were rough work clothes the Rangers had provided for the masquerade.

The Kid protested anyway, thinking that was something Waco Keene would do, but it didn’t do any good. He was left standing naked except for the chains, and despite the warmth of the day outside, something dank about the stone-walled room made him shiver.

One of the guards knocked on a door on the other side of the room, and a moment later it opened to admit a slender man in a white coat.

As soon as The Kid saw the man’s hollow eyes and pale skin, he knew something was wrong with him. He had seen opium addicts before, and had a hunch he was looking at one now.

The man stopped in front of The Kid. “I’m Dr. Simon Kendrick. I’m going to examine you now, Mr. Keene.”

“You don’t have to do that,” The Kid said. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.”

Kendrick smiled. “I’m afraid it’s standard procedure. This won’t take long.”

The doctor was right about that. The examination was cursory at best. But it was still humiliating, and The Kid was glad when it was over.

He recalled that Quint Lupo had been taken to the infirmary after a fight in the yard. Someone in the pay of the gang could have started that fight in order to get Lupo removed from the other convicts. Did that mean Kendrick was part of the gang, or at least being paid off by them?

A man addicted to opium would certainly be vulnerable to something like that, The Kid thought. He would have to keep an eye on the doctor.

The only other name he knew was Bert Hagen, who had testified that Lupo murdered a guard during the prison break. For all The Kid knew, Hagen could have been one of the blue-uniformed men who had brought him into the building.

After the doctor was gone, one of the guards said to Culhane, “All right, take the chains off him.”

Culhane handed his shotgun to one of the other Rangers. He wasn’t wearing a handgun. He went over to The Kid, took a key from his vest pocket, and unlocked the leg irons and manacles.

When that was done, Culhane backed off, letting the restraints dangle from his hand. The other Rangers and the three guards had kept The Kid covered the whole time Culhane was turning him loose.

“You fellas must think I’m loco,” The Kid muttered. “An hombre would have to be crazy to try anything with that many guns pointin’ at him.”

“You just keep reminding yourself of that, Keene,” said the guard who had done the talking so far. “You do that and you’ll be all right.”

A small, ferret-faced convict in a gray uniform brought in a bundle of clothes, including a pair of boots and some socks. The man was one of the trusties. He set the clothes on the bench and left.

“That’s what I’m supposed to wear?” The Kid asked as he gestured toward the bench.

“That’s right,” the guard said. “They suit you?”

“I reckon they’ll do.” The Kid got dressed. The gray uniform was rough and ill-fitting—a far cry from the luxurious clothing Conrad Browning had purchased from the finest tailors in Boston and New York. If some of the men who had sat in boardrooms with him could see him now ... of course, some of those men were probably as crooked as many of the prisoners already locked up, he reminded himself.

“All right, the warden ought to be ready for you now,” the guard said. “Let’s go.”

They weaved through corridors until The Kid figured he would have a hard time retracing their steps if he’d needed to. They went outside, crossed a short area covered with gravel, and entered another building. It was a little nicer, and The Kid wasn’t surprised to see that it housed the prison offices.

The guard stopped and knocked on a polished wooden door. Gilt letters reading P
RESTON
J
ENNINGS
were painted on it, with the title WARDEN underneath the name.

“Come in,” a man said from inside.

The guard opened the door and went in first, turning so he could cover The Kid. Culhane and the other two prison guards followed, leaving the other Rangers in the hall.

The warden’s office was simply but comfortably furnished with a rug on the floor, several leather chairs, and a large desk. The window behind the desk didn’t command much of a view. A high stone wall rose only a few feet from it.

The man standing behind the desk wore a brown tweed suit. He had thinning gray hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. Spectacles had slid down his nose and were perched on the end.

“This is the new man?” he asked, and The Kid was a little surprised to hear his voice contained a hint of an English accent.

“That’s right, sir,” the guard said. “Waco Keene.”

“Waco, eh?” Warden Jennings smiled at The Kid. “Is that what your mother named you, Mr. Keene?”

“It’ll do as good as any,” The Kid replied in a surly voice.

“Suit yourself. My name is Preston Jennings. I’m the warden here. I want you to know we allow no troublemaking, but if you comply with our rules, you’ll be treated fairly.”

The Kid didn’t say anything, but he thought,
You don’t allow any troublemaking ... just breakouts.

He hoped Captain Hughes was right about Jennings being trustworthy. If he wasn’t, The Kid’s life wasn’t going to be worth a plugged nickel.

“Do you understand what I just told you, Mr. Keene?” Jennings asked with a trace of impatience.

“Yeah, sure,” The Kid said, keeping his voice and expression surly.

BOOK: Hard Luck Money

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