Nest of Vipers (9781101613283) (4 page)

SIX

Harry Pendergast, head of the Denver Detective Agency, sat behind his large cherrywood desk, toying with a lead pencil as he regarded the three men in his room. He had just finished listening to Brad's account of the death of his wife and a dozen horses stolen. He winced when he heard about Felicity and was concerned when he learned of the stolen horses.

“This could be a long trail, Brad. Have you made arrangements with the men tending your cattle herd?”

“I have a good man in charge,” Brad said, “Pedro Alvarez. He found me a range for the Bramer bull and thirty head of Herefords. The two Bramer cows are quartered with one of my whiteface bulls. I gave him most of the money you sent down with Joe so he can buy feed and lumber if he needs it.”

“Good,” Pendergast said. He was now a portly man with graying hair and a jowly face that reflected years of good living with both spirits and fine food. “Have you had a chance to think of how you will go about catching these horse thieves? I wouldn't even know where to start. The horses seem to vanish into thin air. They don't show up at any local ranches or at auctions.”

“I have,” Brad said. “But first I want to meet the head of the Colorado Horse Breeders Association.”

“Cliff Jameson should be here shortly. I've already sent for him. Lomax will bring him into the office the minute he arrives.”

Byron Lomax, Brad knew, was Harry's office manager, a most proficient and efficient man who was also as fastidious as any diligent housewife.

“Joe told me something about the ground you covered before I came here,” Brad said. “Anything turn up while Joe was gone?”

“No,” Pendergast said. “Not a thing. We've gone to ranches from New Mexico to Cheyenne, and even into Nebraska. No stolen horses at any of the ranches, none at auctions or sale barns, none turned up in stockyards. It's a big mystery that frankly has me baffled.”

“Maybe you've been looking in all the wrong places,” Brad said.

“Oh? Maybe you have some fresh ideas you'd like to share with me and Joe.”

“I have some ideas, but for the time being, I'm keeping them to myself. I want to know how much the breeders association is willing to pay, or how much you're willing to pay Julio and me to do your investigating.”

“Oh, I think this job is well worth your time, Brad. Cliff is willing to pay my firm a substantial sum to find out who's stealing the horses, and more if we get them back. He's a tough bird and he wants justice. And, he wants this case solved right away.”

“He doesn't want much, does he?” Brad said.

Julio kept silent.

Joe's brushy moustache moved up and down like a push broom, as if he were struggling to keep his mouth shut and not say anything.

Joe had been nervous on the long ride from Leadville to Denver as if afraid that Brad and Julio would change their minds and turn back. So he had held his cards close to his vest and didn't say much about the job. But Brad knew that Joe had a stake in the outcome of the case. He was a member of the association of horse breeders, either as a member or a range detective. Joe had not been very clear about the way he made his living, but Brad figured he was somewhat at a loss to explain his own failure to find out anything about the horse thieves.

There was a knock on Pendergast's door.

“Yes?” Harry said.

“Mr. Jameson is here,” Lomax called through the door.

“Show him in, Byron,” Harry said.

The door opened and Lomax preceded a burly man with a barrel chest. He was wearing a woolen plaid shirt and a sheepskin-lined jacket that bulged at his middle. His face was florid from wind and weather, and when he took off his Stetson, he revealed a clumpy shock of curly blond hair. He wore a six-gun and a large knife on his gun belt. His boots were worn and made of sheepskin or antelope hide. His eyes were a clear blue that seemed to give off sparks. He carried a worn leather satchel that was bulging at the seams.

“Harry,” Jameson bellowed, “I hope to hell you've got some good news for me. Or at least found someone more capable than Joe to help us out.”

He glared at Joe when he said it. Then his eyes fixed on Julio, and Brad saw a cloud pass in front of his eyes. Finally, he looked at Brad, who was a head taller than he was, but twice as lean and wiry with muscles unlike Jameson's, which had turned partially to flab.

“Here's the man I spoke to you about, Cliff. Shake hands with Brad Storm.”

Brad held up his hand, but Jameson didn't offer his. Instead, he shifted his gaze to Julio. And this time, Brad saw a look of contempt in his eyes and on his ruddy face.

Lomax walked backward through the open door and silently closed it as if he wanted no part of the dealings in that august room.

“And what's the Mex doin' here?” Jameson gruffed.

Harry started to tell him. He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Brad spoke.

“Julio Aragon works for me, Mr. Jameson,” Brad said quietly. “And, he's not a Mex. He's a Mexican.”

“What the hell?” Jameson bellowed. “Harry, you hired a Messican. What in the devil's name was on your mind?”

“I hired two men to help us, Cliff,” Harry said. “Brad and Julio. If you don't like it, you can just turn around and go back to your ranch and we'll call it a day. Otherwise, sit down and shut up.”

Jameson glared at Harry for a long moment. He seemed about to explode in a rage. He doubled up his fists, and his neck swelled under his collar like a bull in the rut. He huffed a breath in and out of his nostrils but clamped his lips tight and sat in a chair. He dropped his satchel and it clunked to the floor next to his chair.

“Fine,” Harry said. “Brad, Joe, and Julio are going to be working on this case, and I would appreciate a little respect from you, Cliff.”

“Something tells me you expect a lot more than respect, Harry,” Cliff said.

Pendergast smiled. It was not a warm smile, but an indulgent, condescending smile that was from a man who knew he held all the right cards.

“This is a big, complicated job,” Harry explained. “I'll have three detectives riding all over creation to find the culprits and bring them to justice. They will need food for themselves, food for their horses, and will probably have to spend a lot of time in the open, without shelter. If you want results, you must pay for the process.”

“How much?” Jameson asked. He glanced down at his satchel.

“To start with, I'll ask you to tender an offer, Cliff.”

“Then what?”

“Then,” Pendergast said, “we haggle like a pair of fishwives in the marketplace.”

Jameson swelled up as he drew a deep breath. His chest expanded to barrel proportions and his florid face reddened.

“I've already given you five thousand dollars as a retainer,” Cliff said.

“Yes, and I've laid out more than half of that on expenditures necessary to the investigation. One thousand of that money was used to solicit the services of Brad and Julio. That's a nonrefundable expense, and distinct from the salary I must pay them.”

“Costly,” Cliff said. He glanced over at Brad for a moment.

“My agents must be paid and paid well. They will earn every penny I pay them since I envision they will travel many miles, possibly through mountainous country, to locate both the horses and the culprits. I need you to give me a figure that the horse breeders association is willing to pay for our investigative services.”

Jameson squirmed in his chair. He glanced down at the satchel once again.

“I brought ten thousand in cash that I was able to collect from the members who have had their horses stolen. Some of the horses are very valuable, and years of breeding have been lost to these thieves.”

“That's a start, Cliff,” Harry said. “But you're going to need twice that much before we're through.”

“Twice that much?” Cliff spluttered. “Twenty thousand? Why, that's outrageous. The members of our association won't stand for it.”

Pendergast tapped the eraser end of his pencil on his desktop. A bemused smile curled his lips. He stroked one of his mutton chop sideburns with a single finger.

“The haggling is over, Cliff. I'll take that cash money as half of the payment, but if we are successful and solve this case, bring the horse thieves before the court, then you must agree to pay us another ten thousand dollars. I have an agreement already drawn up. All that's required is your signature and my countersignature.”

“You've got it all figured out, haven't you, Harry?” Jameson drew himself up in his chair and clasped his hands together in his lap.

“I know what a case of this magnitude is going to cost,” Harry said.

Jameson glanced again at Brad. This time he did not avert his gaze.

“I don't know nothin' about these men you've hired, Brad and the Mexican. What do they know about horses? Are they certified detectives? Joe is a damned fine range detective and he's a horse breeder as well. Brad looks like a country bumpkin who couldn't find his ass with both hands, and the Mexican looks about as reliable as a three-legged mule.”

Brad stiffened but kept silent.

“Brad Storm is a cattle rancher. He just had a dozen head of horses stolen and the men who stole from him also raped and murdered his wife. And he has worked for me in the past and was successful in all those cases. Have you never heard of him before? He has quite a reputation.”

“No, I never heard of him before.”

Pendergast looked at Brad.

“Show him, Brad. Maybe that will jog his memory.”

“Show me what?” Jameson boomed.

Brad slipped a hand inside his shirt. He lifted the set of rattles on the leather thong and shook them. They made a rattling sound.

Jameson jumped from his chair and looked all around him on the floor. “What the hell?” he said as he danced away from his chair.

Brad let the rattle fall back on his breastbone.

“Brad Storm,” Harry said, “is better known around these parts as the Sidewinder. Those snake rattles are his trademark.”

“You're the Sidewinder?” Jameson gasped in disbelief.

Brad said nothing. He just smiled. Julio grinned and Joe wore a smirk on his face.

“Well, I'll be damned,” Jameson said.

He sat down again and lifted his satchel into his lap.

“I'll be damned,” he said again. “The Sidewinder. Don't that beat all?”

Harry slid a sheet of paper over to the edge of his desk in Jameson's direction.

“Sign here, Cliff,” he said, pointing to a line on the bottom of the agreement.

Jameson pulled stacks of bills from his satchel and set them on one side of the large desk. Then he stood up, leaned over and read the agreement. Harry handed him a pen.

Cliff signed the paper and slid it back to Harry. Harry signed it, then picked up a small bell and jiggled it. The door opened and Lomax entered the room.

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“Count this money and put it in the safe. And file this agreement between me and Cliff Jameson.”

“Right away, sir,” Lomax said, his eyes bulging in wonder at the sight of the greenbacks. “Should I issue a receipt to Mr. Jameson?”

“That won't be necessary,” Harry said.

Lomax left and closed the door.

Jameson started to rise from his chair.

“Hold on, Cliff. Brad has some questions for you.”

“He can ask all the questions he wants as long as he don't make no more rattlin' sounds,” Jameson said.

“If he ever does, Cliff,” Joe said, “it'll probably be the last sound you hear before you hear his six-gun explode.”

“I know. I've heard the stories,” Jameson said. “I hear he's mighty fast with that Colt on his belt.”

“He is fast,” Julio said. “And he does not miss.” He grinned at Jameson. The grin was more like a salacious leer.

Harry smiled. This has been a good meeting, he thought. He felt like rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. But that was not his way. He was, at bottom, a gentleman and he did not like to gloat.

Morning sun streamed through the windows of his office on the mezzanine of the Brown Palace Hotel. His new offices.

Business had been good and it was going to get better.

He had the utmost confidence in Brad Storm and knew that he had hired the most qualified man to solve the case of the stolen horses.

He had hired the Sidewinder.

SEVEN

Harry ushered the men into a large adjoining conference room and instructed one of the women who worked for him to provide them with fresh coffee and anything else they desired.

“As soon as you and Brad have discussed the case, he, Joe, and Julio will get right on it.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Jameson said. He set his satchel down on the floor and took a chair near the end of the table. Brad sat at the head. Julio and Joe took chairs on his left.

“I need some things from you, Mr. Jameson,” Brad said.

“Call me Cliff,” Jameson said. “May I call you Brad?”

“Sure. That's my name.”

“That's one of your names,” Jameson said with a smile.

“Let's get down to business,” Brad said. “I need a list of brands from all the ranches that lost horses. And, I would like to know the breeds and colors, if possible, of all the missing horses. Would that be possible?”

Jameson reached down and picked up his satchel. He opened it atop the table.

“I have a list of the ranch brands,” he said. “And, I know some of the breeds such as those I lost.”

“Let's see what you have, Cliff. I may not need to know all the various breeds or markings from all the ranchers.”

A young woman entered the room. She carried a tray with coffee cups, a small cream pitcher, a sugar bowl, spoons, and a pot of steaming coffee.

“Howdy, boys,” she said airily as she set the tray down on the long polished walnut tabletop. “I'm Velma Fitzgerald, Mr. Pendergast's girl Friday. Now, if you wish. I can bring you sandwiches or bear claws, most anything you like while you all are talkin' here.”

She had a slight Texas accent and wore a yellow taffeta dress with a small bustle that sported a large bow, patent leather shoes with silver buckles, and sheer silk stockings. Around her neck, she wore a choker with a small jade stone in the center. She had brown eyes and long black hair that was bunched up in a tight bun that nestled on her slender neck.

Every man in the room gaped at her, and she smiled becomingly at each one. She held her gaze on Brad, since he was at the head of the table.

“Uh, no, ma'am,” he said. “Nothing for me, but maybe . . .”

Jameson butted in before Brad could finish his sentence.

“Sugar, when we finish up here, I'm goin' to take all these gentlemen to lunch downstairs. So, we don't need nothin' else right now. Buy your lunch, too, if you want to join us.”

Velma blushed.

“Uh, no, sir. I brought my own lunch. But thank you very much.”

“You're welcome,” Jameson said. Velma scurried out of the room as if it were on fire.

“Nice little gal,” Jameson said. He began to pour the coffee. He handed each man a cup and saucer. “Sugar? Cream?”

The men all shook their heads.

Jameson set some papers down that he had pulled from his satchel.

“Now, this is a list of all the ranches and you'll see their brands.”

Brad picked up the papers and began to read.

There was the Rocking A, owned by Robert Anderson, the Slash D, owned by Felix Dunham, and so on.

“Bob Anderson raises Appaloosas,” Jameson said. “Dunham breeds Missouri Trotters. Here's a pencil, Brad, case you want to write down any of this information.”

Brad wrote down the breeds after each man's name.

Jameson leaned over and went down the list. Some ranchers raised roans, both blue and strawberry, while others raised quarter horses or Arabians, and some mixed breeds. Brad wrote them all down.

When they had finished going over the list, Jameson scooted back in his chair.

“Mind tellin' me how you're going to proceed with this case, Brad?” he asked.

“Right now, I want to keep my method to myself.”

“But you do have a starting point, I reckon,” Jameson said.

“Yes. Several,” Brad said.

“As long as I'm payin' good money for your services, you should at least tell me your plans,” Jameson said.

Brad folded the papers and put them in his jacket pocket.

“Cliff, I can't talk about my plans. Not to you, not to Harry. Not to Julio here, or Joe. If word leaks out what I aim to do, I'll fail. Now, to be blunt, you can take it or leave it.”

Jameson drew himself up and swiped a hand across his mouth.

“Secretive, eh? All right. But, you'll surely give regular reports to Harry, won't you?”

“No, I won't do that, either,” Brad said. “And, we're going to skip lunch. After I meet with Harry, we're going to set out to solve this case. Don't try to interfere or follow us. If you do, I'll drop the case right back in Harry's lap.”

“Boy, you don't pussyfoot around, do you?” Jameson said.

“I have my own way of working, Cliff.”

“Yeah, I'm sure you do. Okay. Let's just leave it at that. I wish you luck. All of you. I hope you get those bastards and bring 'em into court. I'd like nothin' better than to see their necks stretched at the end of a rope.”

Jameson stood up. He picked up his satchel and touched a finger to the brim of his hat.

“So long, Cliff,” Brad said.

“Be seein' you,” Jameson said awkwardly and left the room.

“Now what?” Joe asked as he looked at Brad.

“Now, we go next door and see Byron and Harry. We'll draw money and buy the supplies we'll need.”

“You don't waste much time, do you, Brad?” Joe said.

“Time wasted is time lost,” Brad said. “You can't get time back once you've spent it.”

“True,” Joe said.

Brad rose from his chair. Julio and Joe got up, too. They followed him to Harry's office.

Lomax sat at his desk and looked up when the three men came in.

“Harry in?” Brad asked.

“He had to leave on an errand,” Byron said. “But he wanted me to give you this, each of you.” He opened a desk drawer and withdrew three envelopes.

“There's two hundred dollars for each of you. Mr. Pendergast wants you to keep track of expenses, which he will pay.”

The three men took the envelopes.

“Is this expense money or salary?” Brad asked.

“Both,” Byron said. “You are each to garner one hundred dollars a week in salary and the extra hundred is to pay your initial expenses.”

“Harry seems pretty sure of himself,” Brad said.

“Mr. Pendergast said to tell you that the money is just a starting point. He feels you will be entitled to much more as the case develops.”

“We may be gone for a month, maybe more,” Brad said.

“You will be well compensated for your work, Mr. Storm,” Byron said. “If you think you'll need more money before you leave, just let me know and Mr. Pendergast will advance what you need as well as pay any salary that is due.”

“I don't like it much,” Brad said. “But I can live with it, I reckon.”

“Mr. Pendergast will be pleased to know that,” Byron said.

“Let's go, boys,” Brad said. He folded his envelope and tucked it into his back pocket.

“We goin' to eat?” Joe asked. “My stomach's growlin' like a bear.”

“We'll eat on the trail,” Brad said. “I want to get started on this case.”

“And you do have a plan, I take it.”

“I have a plan, Joe, and as soon as we're out of town, I'll tell you what it is. That good enough for you?”

“I reckon it'll have to be,” Joe said.

“You must trust Brad,” Julio told Joe.

Joe nodded.

Brad walked outside onto California Street and breathed in a gulp of air.

He couldn't wait to get out of Denver and ride into the mountains. He looked up at the Front Range of the Rockies. That's where all the secrets were, he thought. That's where all the horses were.