Sabrina's Man (18 page)

“It sounds like he thinks somebody might be coming for him.”

“That's what I thought, so I tried to find a confirmation on trains leaving, but no luck so far. I think this fellow is a criminal of some kind, and he's run off to Oklahoma Territory.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

“You might go see Donald French. He's the best private detective I know. If anybody can find out anything, he will do it.”

“I'll go right there. Where's his office?”

“In the Hall Building.”

“Well,” French said, “I've done my best, Mr. Warren. I did find someone, after interviewing a hundred people, who saw a couple get on a train headed for Oklahoma. Couldn't be sure, but he gave a brief description of the man. Said he had blond hair and was well dressed.”

“What about the woman?”

“She was small with blond hair and blue eyes. And the witness said she was hanging on to this man. It's not much, but I did find out from the conductor that one of them asked him how long it would take to get to Oklahoma.”

“Well, that's what Chief Stone said.”

“I think that's where you'll find them.”

“Thanks, Mr. French.”

“Well, I didn't earn the money, but I'll take it. And I'll tell you this. If he's taken that girl of yours to Oklahoma Territory, he's no good.”

The chief 's words discouraged Charles Warren, but he went home and repeated them to his wife. He softened the blow as much as he could, but it sent her into another torrent of grieving. He told Sabrina to put her to bed, and when Sabrina finally came back down, she saw an odd look on his face. “So the police and the private detective think this man's taken her to Indian Territory?”

“That's what they both said.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Hire more detectives.”

“What can they do?”

“Well, not much. Even if they found he had taken her there, they couldn't go in after her. It's against the law.”

“But they do have some law, don't they?”

“Judge Isaac Parker is judge over the whole territory. He has about two hundred marshals. They go in and hunt the criminals down, but they're badly outnumbered, and he's lost about fifty of them.”

“What do you mean, lost?”

“They were killed. It's a dangerous place.” He hesitated. Then when he looked up, he saw an odd look on Sabrina's face. “What is it, Sabrina?”

“I'm going to find Marianne.”

Warren's eyes flew open with surprise. “Why, you can't go into Indian Territory. In the first place, it's against the law. In the second place, you're not a marshal.”

“I'll hire one of the marshals. I'm going to find her, Father.”

That was not the end of Sabrina's announcement. The next day she left the house. Dulcie was crying and begging to go. Sabrina hugged her and said, “It won't be any place for you.”

“Who's going to take care of you?”

“I'm going to find me a man,” Sabrina said. “And we're going to go get my sister and bring her home.”

There was more talk and more weeping on the part of Caroline Warren.

Her father pleaded with her not to go, but Sabrina Warren was cursed with a stubbornness that was almost endemic in her spirit. At two o'clock that afternoon she was on a railroad car. As it pulled out of the station headed West, she said under her breath, “I'll find me a man, and we'll find that scoundrel and bring my sister home!”

T
he narrow-gauge coal-burning engine that touched into Fort Smith emitted a scream that sounded to Sabrina like a banshee. She was weary of her trip and had scarcely ever been more uncomfortable. The hard seats in the carriage car that she sat upon forced her into either an upright position or slumping down with a curve in her backbone. The windows were open most of the time, for it was hot. They admitted mostly hot desert air and cinders from the locomotive that chugged along toward its destination.

She had brought few clothes with her, and the garments that she wore were rather prim and severe, at least for Sabrina's taste. Her dress was a chocolate brown velvet, and she wore only a pair of earrings for decoration. Three black feathers were arranged in her hair, but they were now drooping and looking as if they were ready for the garbage heap.

Relief came when the conductor, a small, scrawny, ill-looking man in a crumpled black suit and a stiff-billed cap, came through shouting, “All out for Fort Smith! Everyone out for Fort Smith!”

Quickly Sabrina rose and straightened her back with a grunt. She had expected a rough ride, but nothing as uncomfortable as this relic from the Civil War days that made the daily run from Fort Smith.

Passengers began filing off, and when Sabrina stepped down, the scrawny conductor was there. He reached up his hand, and she looked at it then shrugged and took it. When she stepped down to the brick surface, she said, “I need to find the courthouse.”

“Oh, anybody can tell you about that. Just start walkin'.”

“I have luggage.”

“Yeah, I seen that. Well, let me get it for you.”

He waited until the car was empty; then she guided him by saying, “That gray one is mine and that dark brown one—and the large one.”

“You must be coming to stay for a spell, miss.” The conductor waited to be enlightened about Sabrina's intention.

She merely nodded, murmuring, “Thank you, sir.” She looked around and saw the ticket office, and leaving the luggage, she went inside.

She walked up to the window where a very fat man with a pair of startling green eyes peered at her and grinned. “Howdy, miss. Just get in I see.”

“Yes, I need some directions.”

“Where you be going, ma'am?”

“I need to see Judge Parker.”

“Oh, well, the courthouse is right down that street to your right. You follow it, and you see the biggest building there three stories high. You'll find the judge somewhere around in there, I reckon. What do you need to see the judge for?”

“Private business!” Sabrina snapped. “Can you have someone put my luggage in a safe place?”

“Well, I don't know as there is a safe place around here.”

Sabrina took a deep breath and withheld her comment on that. She saw a man sitting with a small wagon and said, “Does that man carry passengers?”

“Yes, ma'am, he does. His name is Zeke Cousins. He fit in the big war, he did. He'll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Thank you.”

Zeke Cousins turned out to be a tall, lanky man dressed in a pair of bib overalls with a worn straw hat pushed down over his eyes. He moved slowly as if he were crippled getting out of the wagon but had no sign of a wound. Sabrina said, “I need to go to a hotel, and then I need to go to the courthouse.”

“Yes'um. It'll cost you two dollars though.”

“That'll be fine. My luggage is over there.”

“I'll jist get it fer you.”

She watched as Cousins moved slowly, carefully, as if he were about to step on dynamite, and wondered how a human being could move that slowly. The heat from the July sun was pouring down, and she was wet with perspiration, her clothes droopy.

Finally Cousins brought all three pieces of her luggage and said, “Just hop right in there, ma'am.”

Sabrina was accustomed to being helped into carriages and vehicles. She saw that Cousins was not about to offer that service so, gritting her teeth, she stepped on one of the spokes, clambered onto the hard seat, and sat down. She found she was sore from sitting for many hours on the hard railroad seat, but there was no point complaining to her driver. “Take me to the best hotel.”

“Sure, I'll do that, ma'am. That'll be the Starlight Hotel. It's run by Mr. and Mrs. Jamieson. They get along purty good 'cept they had a fight some time ago, and he lit out. But he come back, and they made it all up. Never did know what it was all about. Sure was sad for a while.”

Such talk continued about people Sabrina had never heard of, and Cousins attempted, from time to time, to pry her name and purpose in coming to Fort Smith from her. Finally he pulled up in front of a two-story building. “That there's the Starlight Hotel, ma'am. You tell 'em Zeke Cousins brought you. They'll give you a good deal.”

“Well, could you carry my luggage in?”

“Oh, that'll be an extra quarter.”

“Fine.” She handed him three dollars and said, “Keep the change.”

“Why, that's right thoughtful of you, ma'am. I do appreciate it.” He hopped down, but as soon as he touched the ground, his feet grew slower as if they were magnetized to the earth.

Finally the luggage was inside, Cousins left, and Sabrina walked up to the desk.

A young man, no more than eighteen it seemed, with his hair parted in the middle and wearing a string tie and a white shirt said, “Yes, ma'am, can I help you?”

“I need a room.”

“Just for one night or for several days?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Well, you better hold on to it for two or three days. Rooms are kind of scarce right now.”

“Yes, that'll be fine. Three days.”

She waited while the young man pulled out a leather-bound register, opened it, and said, “If you'd just sign your name right there, please.”

Sabrina signed her name.

He turned it around and stared at it. “Miss Sabrina Warren—or is it Mrs?”

“It's Miss. Now, is there any chance at all of getting a bath in this hotel?”

“Yes ma'am, but that's extra. I'll have to have some boys bring up some hot water.”

“That'll be fine. What's the room? Give me a key, please.”

The young man turned and said, “My name's Joel Barnaby. Anything you need you just let me know. Here's your key. Room 206. Boys will be up with the hot water as soon as they can get it het up.”

“Thank you.”

“We ain't got nobody handy now. Let me help you with your luggage, Miss Warren.”

Sabrina picked up the smaller suitcase, and the clerk carried the other two. When they got to the room in the middle of the hall, he put them down, opened her door, and then carried the suitcases in.

She entered behind him, said, “Thank you very much,” and handed him fifty cents.

“You don't have to do that, ma'am.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Well, I'll have the fellers bring the water up as soon as they can get it.”

“Thank you.”

Sabrina waited until the door was closed and then took off the lightweight jacket. Her hair seemed to be drooping, and she knew the heat had done that. She looked around the room and saw it contained the bare necessities: a double bed with a corduroy-looking spread and a small table with a pitcher of water and a basin, the basin being cracked and the pitcher being broken at the lip. There were no closets, but there were nails driven into the wall. “I suppose that's where my clothes will go.”

There were two chairs in the room, both with hard seats, and the wallpaper was sort of a leprous gray so ancient it was impossible to tell what it really was. She walked over to the window, which was open, and even as she did, two flies came zipping in. She shooed them away and looked down on the street. “Well, Fort Smith, there you are, and you're not much,” she said grimly.

She watched as people moved below, noting that it seemed to be a typical Western outpost. The men wore pants tucked into high-heeled boots. Many of them carried guns and holsters, and all of them wore big hats. The women were dressed mostly in plain calico or printed cotton. They wore bonnets, and some of them carried umbrellas. “Well, here I am.”

For a moment she felt a sense of despair. She knew her errand would not be easy, but she was a determined young lady. When she made up her mind, she ran at the job as if her life depended on it. She sat down on the bed instead of on one of the hard chairs and waited impatiently.

Finally there was a knock on the door, and three men came in. One of them was carrying what appeared to be a brass bathtub, an elongated affair. The other two both had two buckets of water. “Got your bathwater here, ma'am,” the leader with the tub said. “You want it right here?”

“Yes, that's fine.”

“Fill her up, boys.”

Sabrina watched as the two men emptied the water out of the buckets into the tub and noted with satisfaction that at least the water was steaming. She thanked them all.

The tall man carrying the tub said, “If you need any help, just holler.” He leered at her.

She stared at him disdainfully. “Good day, sir.”

“Well, good day, ma'am. Enjoy your bath.”

Sabrina recognized the look in his eye and knew that she was in rough territory.

After the men left, she opened one of the suitcases, took out a fresh outfit, then stripped down. The door did not seem to be locked, so she put one of the chairs under the knob and hoped for the best. She touched the water cautiously, and sure enough it was far too hot. She also realized she didn't have a washcloth or a towel, and none were furnished. “How am I going to wash?” Fortunately she had brought some soap with her.