Ralph Compton Train to Durango (16 page)

“Not as far as I know,” said Jennings. “The office is in the back. Come on.”

When they reached the back of the buildling, the office door was standing wide open.

“Something's bad wrong here,” Sheriff Jennings said. “Looks like a break-in.”

“Not quite,” said Silver, examining the door. “None of the glass panels is broken, and the lock's still intact. Whoever entered this saloon did so with a key.”

“I'll have to agree with you,” Jennings said. “When Madame Renae arrives, we'll find out who else has a key. This fully justifies our searching the place.”

They waited, and Madame Renae eventually drove up in a buckboard. Dressed in the most fashionable clothing of the time, she looked like anything but what she was. She had green eyes and red hair, and from every finger diamonds flashed in the sun. Climbing out of the buckboard like a man, she left the team standing, turning her full attention to the sheriff.

“Whatever is going on here, Sheriff Jennings? Who's been in my office?”

“We're hoping you can shed some light on it,” said Jennings.

Quickly he introduced Silver, Wes, and El Lobo. He then told her of the shooting that had taken place, and that it had to have come from the Pretty Girl Saloon.

“Besides you,” said Silver, “who else has a key to your office?”

“Nobody that I know of,” Madame Renae said. “I own this place, and I can prove it.”

“But you can't deny that somebody opened this door with a key,” said the sheriff. “It's as much to your benefit to search the place as it is to ours. You need to find out if you've been robbed.”

“I suppose you're right,” Madame Renae said. “Go ahead and search. There's never any money left loose, so thieves would have to go to the safe. I'll see if anybody's tampered with it.”

Sheriff Jennings, Silver, Wes, and El Lobo followed her into the office. An old safe stood in the corner, and it appeared undisturbed.

“Open the safe,” said Sheriff Jennings.

“Nobody knows the combination but me,” Madame Renae protested.

“Nobody has a key to the door but you, and it was standing open,” said Jennings. “Go on and open the safe.”

“All right,” she said angrily. “Stand back.”

She knelt before the safe in such a way that they couldn't read the pattern of numbers in the combination. Silver eyed Sheriff Jennings, but Jennings said nothing. The heavy door of the old safe swung noiselessly open. After a few seconds, Madame Renae closed the safe's door and spun the dial.

“The safe is just as I left it,” said Madame Renae, getting to her feet. “Now please conclude your search and get out of here. I don't want any of you wandering around after I open for business.”

“I can't make any promises,” Sheriff Jennings said. “It all depends on what we find.”

“You're treating me like a common criminal,” she said, pouting.

Her green eyes spoke volumes, but Sheriff Jennings seemed not to notice.

“Ma'am,” said Silver, “if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. It'll be to your advantage for us to search the place.”

“Do it, then,” Madame Renae said.

She was all business again, her eyes flashing green fire. Sheriff Jennings pushed open a door that led into the saloon. Silver, Wes, and El Lobo followed. A long hall extended two-thirds of the distance to the front of the building. The front was open, with a long mahogany bar, a billiard table, a roulette wheel, and an array of solid oak tables with matching chairs.

“I think we'll save the front for last, Sheriff,” said Silver. “I'm concerned with those windows that are within Winchester range of that brick office building where we had to take cover.”

“With all that gambling space up front,” Wes said, “why all these private rooms? This looks more like a whorehouse than a saloon.”

“The individual rooms are for high-stakes games,” said Sheriff Jennings. “Pretty girls are near naked, and they're provided to take the minds of the high rollers off how much money they've lost.”

“There's a dozen rooms that could concern us,” Silver said. “Suppose we each take one of them? We should be finished well before it's time for her to open.”

“Good thinking,” said Sheriff Jennings. “The woman's kept a decent place, never causing me any trouble. I don't want to be any harder on her than I have to.”

Silver took the first room, Wes the second, El Lobo the third, and Sheriff Jennings the fourth. It was Jennings who found a broken windowpane.

“I'd say there were at least three bushwhackers,” Silver said, “and I suspect they were grouped fairly close together. Let's look at the two adjoining rooms.”

In each of the adjoining rooms, a single windowpane had been broken, and on the frame of one of the windows, there were powder burns.

“Damn,” said Sheriff Jennings. “You called it, Silver, but what am I gonna do with this woman? The bushwhackers were holed up in here, but there's no real evidence against her, unless we consider the possibility she gave somebody else a key.”

“She's already denied that, and we have no proof,” Silver said. “If you will, Sheriff, do me a favor. Tell Madame Renae that, beyond a doubt, the bushwhackers fired through the broken windowpanes in three of her rooms.”

“It's the truth, as near as I can tell,” said Sheriff Jennings. “I'll tell her, and I'll show her the broken windows. I suppose you have some plan in mind.”

“I have,” Silver admitted, “but it won't involve you.”

“I'm obliged,” said Sheriff Jennings. “You and your friends go on. I'll stay behind and tell Madame what she won't like to hear.”

“You've been a big help to us, Sheriff,” Silver said. “Once this case is wrapped up, I'll see you before I leave Denver, and eventually you'll receive an official commendation from Washington.”

Silver, Wes, and El Lobo had reached their horses before Silver spoke.

“What do you gents think of Madame Renae and her open door?”

“I think she's pretty much what she seems,” said Wes. “If she had let those varmints in, knowing they were killers, I don't think she'd have left the door standing open. She got a rotten deal, and I'd say somebody will catch hell.”

Silver laughed. “I'm counting on that. We're going to follow Madame wherever she goes for the next several days.”

“Find bastardo with key,” said El Lobo.

“Exactly,” Silver replied. “As Sheriff Jennings said, she's kept her nose clean, as far as the law's concerned. Now there's conclusive evidence that at least three bushwhackers tried to commit murder after entering her place with a key. Somebody else has a key, by God, and she can deny it till hell freezes. My suspicious mind tells me that sooner or later she'll go looking for the
hombre
who has that key. But we have to play it close. The attempted bushwhacking was only the start. When Madame gets her claws into the
hombre
who has that key, he's going to know that we know of him. He'll suspect that we backed off only so that we could trail Madame, which will make it all the more important to him that all of us are graveyard dead.”

“Not if we find out who he is and put a crimp in his tail first,” said Wes. “There's a good chance that when we get our hands on that coyote with the key, he'll be Drade Hogan, or somebody close to him.”

“I'm remembering some of the things Shankler told me when I questioned him at Fort Leavenworth,” Silver said. “Hogan keeps a tight rein on his outfit, revealing nothing to his men that they don't have to know. Any kind of relationship he may have had with Madame Renae would have been kept under wraps. It's almost a sure bet that if Madame gave that key to Drade Hogan, he passed it on to the bushwhackers who tried to gun us down.”

“It's the best lead we've had so far,” said Wes. “Who's going to trail Madame Renae first?”

“I will,” Silver said. “We'll stay with it in eight-hour shifts until she either leads us to the varmint we're looking for, or until we decide we're barking up the wrong tree. Do you know where the Denver House is?”

“Yes,” said Wes. “It's a boardinghouse.”

“Go there and take a room,” Silver said, “but don't use your own name.”

“I'll sign us in under my first and middle names,” said Wes. “Does John Wesley sound right?”

“Yes,” Silver said. “I expect Madame to raise some hell this afternoon, before any of the high rollers show up. Wherever she goes, I'll follow. Give me seven hours. Then one of you can relieve me here and stay until closing.”

“We'll both relieve you,” said Wes. “If something really breaks big, one of us can get word to you, while the other keeps an eye on Madame.”

“I like that better,” Silver said. “Once she leaves the saloon, we can't afford to lose her. If I'm not somewhere near when you return, you'll know she's gone and I'm following her.”

“
Bueno
,” said Wes, “but don't take any chances. I don't relish the thought of explaining to Molly why we allowed you to get shot full of holes.”

Silver laughed. “Your compassion is touching. You're sounding more and more like my old
amigo
, Nathan Stone. Now get going.”

Wes and El Lobo rode to the Denver House. There Wes took a room for the three of them. Leaving their horses at a nearby livery, they returned to their room at the boardinghouse.

“I miss Empty,” said Wes. “It might have been a mistake, not bringing him with us.”

“
Perro
no like trains,” El Lobo said.

There being little else to do, they removed their hats, gunbelts, and boots and stretched out on the bed to wait.

•   •   •

Drade Hogan was furious. Partly because Kent, Hollis, and Bidamer had failed to kill their intended victims, and partly because his fit of temper hadn't intimidated them in the least.

“We done the best we could,” said Bidamer, “but they didn't stay put and shoot back. They took cover in that real estate office on the first floor, and we shot it all to hell, but somehow they escaped. Before we left that saloon, I saw the three of ‘em on their feet.”

Drade Hogan swallowed his anger. These three had killed before, and if the money was right, they would kill again. Hogan spoke as calmly as he could.

“I told you these three aren't easy to kill. For that reason, I'm going to sweeten the pot. Starting now, there's a fifty-thousand-dollar price on the head of each of them. Just remember that I don't pay without proof.”

“For that kind of money, we'll bring you their heads on a platter,” said Hollis.

“Damn right,” Kent agreed.

“Hold it,” said Hogan, as the trio started to leave. “Where's that key I gave you?”

“Here,” Bidamer said, tossing the key to Hogan.

After the three of them had gone, Hogan lit a cigar, hoping to calm his nerves. He regretted having suggested the Pretty Girl Saloon as cover for the bushwhacking, but its location had been perfect. Now he was beset with nagging doubts. Had the would-be killers left some evidence—some sign—that would point to Drade Hogan? Suddenly there came a knock on the door, and Hogan drew a loaded Colt from a desk drawer.

“Identify yourself,” said Hogan.

“Blanton Hood,” a voice replied.

“Come on,” said Hogan, concealing the Colt behind the desk.

Hood had a three-day beard and scraggly black hair down over his shirt collar. Denim shirt, Levi's, run-over boots, and a nearly used-up black Stetson completed his attire. He carried a tied-down Colt on his left hip, and without being invited, flopped down in a chair beside Hogan's desk.

“I didn't invite you to sit,” Hogan said coldly.

“So you didn't,” said Hood, remaining where he was. “What do you want?”

“There are three men I want eliminated,” Hogan said. “There's a fifty-thousand-dollar price on the head of each of them. Hire as many men as you need. What you agree to pay them is your business, and the rest of the money is yours.”

“Hell, I'll gun them all down myself,” said Hood. “Git the money ready.”

“It's been tried by better men than you,” Hogan said with thinly veiled contempt. “I pay nothing for failure, and I'll demand proof. You're a damn fool to go after these three with less than a dozen gun-quick men.”

“Just tell me who these dead men are, and how I can find ‘em.” Hood said.

Denver, Colorado, April 16, 1885

For lack of cover, Silver was forced to conceal his horse a considerable distance from the Pretty Girl Saloon. The problem of concealing himself was even more difficult, for he had to be within sight of the back door. He managed, however, and he waited almost two hours before some of the girls arrived. Within minutes, Madame Renae emerged and began harnessing her team to the buckboard. That was Silver's cue to fetch his horse, and he did so. He was able to remain far behind the buckboard and still keep it in sight. He followed it to a residential area of expensive homes. Madame Renae reined up before a two-story mansion surrounded by trees and shrubbery, and then she did a curious thing. Instead of knocking or ringing the bell, she slipped a piece of paper under the door and returned to her buckboard. Mounting the box, she drove off. Silver waited until she was well away from the house. He then rode by the house and made note of the number and the street on which it was located. When he eventually came within sight of the buckboard, he followed at a safe distance. Madame Renae drove directly back to the saloon, and Silver again concealed his horse. He waited another two hours, and when Madame Renae failed to appear again, he reached a decision. Mounting his horse, he rode to the Denver House and asked where he might find John Wesley.

“Identify yourself,” said Wes, when Silver knocked.

“Twenty-one,” Silver said.

Wes let Silver in, then locked the door behind him.

“I reckon there's been a change in plans,” said Wes. “Has Madame tipped her hand?”

“We won't waste any more time trailing her,” Silver said. “We have a better prospect.”

He told them what he had learned.

“You think she left a message for the
hombre
who has a key to her place, then,” Wes said.

“Yes,” said Silver. “Hogan—if that's his name—vacated that building in a hurry, and it's unlikely she knows where he went. But if he's close enough to her to have a key to the Pretty Girl Saloon, I think there's a good possibility that she knows where he lives.”

“We watch, follow Dragon,” El Lobo said.

“We're stakin' out that house and following whoever enters or leaves it,” said Silver, “and we'll all stay with it until we successfully draw to an inside straight or fold with a busted flush. Saddle your horses and let's ride.”

Reaching the street they rode past the house, seeking cover for themselves and their horses.

“In a highfalutin' neighborhood like this, there should be a livery,” Wes said. “If there is, we can leave the horses there.”

“Depends on how far away the livery is,” said Silver.

They found a livery barn on the next street, facing the house and a block behind it.

“Damn shame it's not facing the front of the place,” Wes said. “We could maybe pay the hostler to let us sleep in the hay loft and watch from there.”

“It may be a problem finding a place to conceal ourselves and still watch the place,” said Silver. “Let's leave the horses here and get at it.”

They had just led their horses into stalls and were about to leave, when a buckboard came rattling down the street. The two women perched on the seat looked vaguely familiar.

“
Sangre de Christo
,” El Lobo said. “It be Monique and Louise. We go.”

“Whoa,” said Wes. “Maybe they live around here close. They owe us.”

“How much am I entitled to know about this?” Silver asked.

“Not much to know,” said Wes. “Monique and Louise are just a pair of New Orleans whores Emo Hanks paid to set us up for an ambush in a Kansas City hotel. Scared hell out of them when they learned they were to be gunned down with us. They were supposed to go on to California. Come on, Palo. Let's greet them.”
²⁹

“Go ahead,” said Silver. “I'll stay out of sight and see what develops.”

Wes and El Lobo waited within one of the stalls until the women had turned the buckboard and team over to the hostler. When they stepped out, Monique and Louise were speechless, but not for long. To El Lobo's disgust, Monique threw her arms around him, while Louise went after Wes in similar fashion.

“You're a long ways from California,” Wes said.

“We didn't go,” said Louise. “We have something better here.”

“I may be sorry I asked,” Wes said, “but what are you doing?”

“We have a house of our own,” said Louise. “Right here in this fancied-up part of town. We have other girls working for us.”

“We don't entertain anymore,” Monique said, “except on special occasions.” She clung to El Lobo in a manner that suggested one of those occasions might be fast approaching.

“We may need your help,” said Wes, freeing himself from Louise.

“Whatever we can do, we will,” said Louise.

“You remember what happened in Kansas City, then,” Wes said.

“My God, yes,” said Louise. “How could we ever forget?”

“It might interest you to know that Emo Hanks, the varmint that sent you, is dead,” Wes said. “We have yet to get our hands on the leader of the gang. We have reason to believe he's here in Denver.”

“Damn,” said Monique. “Why didn't we go on to California when we had the chance?”

“I'm glad you didn't,” Wes said. “We need a place to conceal ourselves while we watch a certain
hombre
enter or leave his place. Take us to this house of yours.”

“They'll kill us if they find you there,” said Monique.

“They won't find us there,” Wes said, “because we won't be there long enough. Now I want you to meet the gent that's goin' to blow this gang of thieves and killers wide open.”

Silver had been listening, and he stepped out of the livery barn.

“This is Bryan Silver,” said Wes. “Silver, this is Monique and Louise.”

“My pleasure,” Silver said, tipping his hat.

He then passed his identification to Louise. Monique moved in close, and they studied the impressive credentials.

“You look like you could bust up anything you're of a mind to,” Louise said.

“Yeah,” said Monique. “I'd like to see you in action.”

“I can't make any promises,” Silver said. “Right now, we need a place where we can see without being seen. Look at this address and tell us where your house is in relation to it.”

Monique and Louise looked at the page from the notebook on which Silver had written an address and a street name.

“That's across the street from us,” said Louise.

“
Bueno
,” Silver said. “We'll pay you for the use of a room facing that street.”

“You don't have to pay,” said Louise. “There's an upstairs room that we never use, and it has a window facing the street.”

“Wes and Palo helped us get out of Kansas City alive, after we set them up to be shot down,” Monique said. “They've more than paid for anything we have to offer, and that includes our—”

“If you don't mind,” Wes interrupted, “we need to go on to your place and stake out that house across the street.”

“Yes,” said Silver. “Somebody's likely to wonder what's going on outside this livery.”

The house, when they reached it, was two-story, like most of the others in the neighborhood. The interior could only be described as plush, with deep-pile carpets, matching floor-length drapes, and an array of expensive furniture. Silver, Wes, and El Lobo followed Monique and Louise up a winding staircase to the second floor. They had started down the hall when a girl stepped out of one of the rooms, clad only in a towel. So surprised was she that she dropped the towel.

“Priscilla,” said Louise, trying not to laugh, “we're going to have visitors in the front room for a while. It could be embarrassing, you wandering in the hall stark naked.”

“I don't embarrass easily,” Priscilla said, “and these visitors all look like they've had a roll in the hay. If they ain't, they're in need of one. I'm in room ten, gents.”

She left the dropped towel where it had fallen and went on down the hall.

“Damn it,” said Monique, “if she wasn't the best draw in the house, I'd kick her and her sharp tongue out into the street.”

“There's a tub for bathing in the last room on the left at the end of the hall,” Louise said. “That's where Priscilla's going.”

Silver and Wes looked after the naked girl, and even El Lobo showed some interest.

“Come on,” said Monique impatiently, obviously piqued at their interest in Priscilla.

The last room at the front end of the hall proved to be ideal. While there was but a single window, it afforded a view of the house across the street, where Madame Renae had slipped a message under the door.

“I'll bring up an extra cot,” Louise said, “and the three of you can remain here just as long as you need to. You'll eat with Monique and me in our quarters.”

When the two women had gone, Silver sighed with relief, and Wes laughed.

“
Desnudo señorita
,” said El Lobo.

“
Sí
,” Silver said. “Just don't ever get on the bad side of me, or I'll tell Tamara you're hiding out in whorehouses, getting an eyeful.”

“We have business here,” said Wes. “When this is all behind us, the less said about whorehouses, the better. Especially where Renita and Tamara are concerned.”

“There's no use in all of us hunkerin' before this window,” Silver said. “I'll watch for a while. Both of you kick off your boots and catch a few winks. We don't know how long we'll be watching, and you'd better sleep a little while you can.”

Wes and El Lobo took Silver's advice, and soon they were snoring. It was late afternoon when a lone horseman approached the house in question.

“You
hombres
better pull on your boots,” Silver said. “A rider just rode in behind the house. He must have a stable there for his horse.”

Drade Hogan set about unsaddling the horse. He was in a foul mood, for he had heard nothing from the killers he had hired. Despite the fact there was a back door, Hogan went around to the front of the house and unlocked the front door. Immediately his eyes fell on the sheet of paper Madame Renae had slipped under the door. He quickly read the brief message: I don't know how else to get to you. We need to talk. If you don't come to my place, then I'll be at yours before dawn.

It was signed “Renae.”

“Damn that woman,” said Hogan.

He purposely waited until dusk before saddling his horse, and when he went around behind the house, Silver, Wes, and El Lobo were watching.

“I don't know what his relationship with Madame Renae is,” Silver said, “but I'd bet the farm she aims to give him hell over the use of that key. Come on. We'd better get to the livery and get our horses. We could lose him in the dark.”

“Followin' him shouldn't be a problem,” said Wes, “if he heads for the Pretty Girl Saloon.”

“We don't know that he will,” Silver said, “but I'm hoping he will. That will confirm what we only suspect, that he sent those bushwhackers after us, and the shooting all took place from within Madame Renae's place.”

Silver, Wes, and El Lobo went down the back stairs and from there made their way to the livery.

“Palo,” Silver said, “it's dark enough that you can't be seen. Walk down there to the corner and watch that house. Wes and me will saddle our horses.”

El Lobo did as bidden. Wes and Silver led out all three horses and began saddling them. Quickly they mounted, Wes leading El Lobo's horse. When they got to the corner, El Lobo swung into the saddle.

“Coyote run,” said El Lobo.

“Lead out,” Silver said. “Take us the way he went.”

El Lobo took the lead. To their advantage, lamplight streamed out of many windows, and they soon sighted the distant rider. It became more and more obvious that he was bound for the part of town where Madame Renae's place was. Hogan rode in behind the Pretty Girl Saloon, and from the shadows on the other side of the street, Silver, Wes, and El Lobo watched him dismount. He stood looking for a moment before entering the saloon.

“What I wouldn't give to hear that conversation,” said Wes.

“That won't be necessary,” Silver replied. “His coming here proves our suspicions are no longer just bare bones. He's added some meat to them. When he leaves here, I expect him to return to the house. We'll follow him home and keep watch until he rides out in the morning. We know he once had a suite of offices, and that's reason enough to believe he's rented similar quarters elsewhere. Once we know where, we can consider breaking in and looking for evidence.”

“Consider, hell,” said Wes. “There's no place on the face of the earth that can't be busted into if there's a good enough reason, and we have one.”

“
Sí
,” El Lobo said.

Drade Hogan waited within Madame Renae's office, while a servant went to fetch her. Theirs had been an ongoing affair, but she had never come to his house or to his office. He had some disturbing thoughts, the foremost of which suggested this wasn't going to be a romantic rendezvous. When Madame Renae entered the office and closed the door behind her, the stormy look in her green eyes confirmed his suspicions.

“I've told you never to come to the house,” said Hogan.

“Since you moved your office without telling me, I had no other way of reaching you,” she snapped. “How the hell was I to know you hadn't skipped town?”

“You know I'd never go without you,” said Hogan soothingly. “Are you needing more money?”

“You think money's the answer to everything, don't you? All I want from you is the key to this building, and I want it now.”

“You're forgetting something,” Hogan said. “I brought you from California and bought this place for you. Now you owe me.”