Stronger Than the Rest (11 page)

Connor looked up at Walsh and nodded. “All right, boys, enough of this foolishness. Time to break it up.” He grabbed the arm of the larger gent and yanked him up. One of his bouncers grabbed the arm of the other and pushed him toward the bar. The larger man lunged into Conner and tried to take a swing, but Conner cut him off with a left hook that dropped him back to the floor. “Get him out of here,” he ordered some other men. “Let him know he’s not to come back in until I say so.” Conner bent to brush off the dust from his black slacks and vest. He looked back toward the upper balcony, but saw that Walsh had disappeared.

Ira once again studied the ledger in front of him. It wasn’t an ordinary listing of expenses and income. It was a compilation of all his businesses, people involved, and cash transferred. Many were legitimate but others were used to hide illegal—or what some would consider disreputable—transactions. Saloons, retail establishments, and silver mines were supplemented by cattle rustling, brothels, and opium smuggling. All lucrative, but he craved more. His latest focus was on obtaining more timberland by whatever means necessary to clinch profitable deals with lumberyards. His ultimate goal was to own the land, the lumberyards, and the distribution to large cities. These would be used to mask his growing import business.

No one else understood the extent of his illegal operations. Ira worked through intermediaries, offered a cut of the profits, and shielded himself through bogus companies. He hired men without conscious, who were willing to do anything to make money. Walsh set them up to handle the difficult facets of each separate business—actions most men would find repulsive. And they never asked questions. His years on the streets of New York had prepared him well for this life.

He closed the ledger, opened his wall safe, pulled the hidden door at the back, and deposited the incriminating material. Ira kept three sets of ledgers. One for his legal operations. A second one that combined all operations but in a form not as incriminating, and a third ledger, which was hidden behind the unseen door. It held the evidence that could destroy him.

******

Pierce stood from the desk and stretched his tall frame. He’d worked non-stop on the ledgers, comparing what he’d found, and with each hour his frustration increased. The code had been broken two days before but what he found made no sense. Something wasn’t right but Pierce couldn’t pinpoint what bothered him.

A short knock was followed by the door to his office being pushed open. His brother walked in and threw his greatcoat on a nearby chair. Pierce admired his older brother, understood the demons that drove him, and would do anything he asked.

They’d been inseparable since their journey to the new country years before. At the urging of their father, they’d left their family and homeland behind to build a new life in America. It had been expected that they’d meld with another part of the family who had emigrated over ten years prior but the young men had never been able to locate their relatives and were left on their own. The years had been hard. Both had held many jobs, some they were proud of, some not so much, but they’d done well. His brother eventually became an undercover Range Detective. Pierce, a wild kind in his youth and one of the best thieves in New York, found a home in science and math, knowledge often used to support the work of his brother. It also provided Pierce with occasional entertainment when he felt the urge to return to his wild past.

“What have you found?”

“Nothing that makes sense. It seems what we have is one ledger showing legitimate transactions. The second shows the same entries, but some additional data on operations that appear illegal. But nothing that would send him to prison or ruin him. Why keep another ledger if the information would cause limited damage?” Pierce rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face and sat down.

His brother paced the floor trying to come up with a reason why Walsh would take the time to prepare two ledgers if not to hide significant illegal operations. He came to a stop across from Pierce. “We need to meet with the boss. Tonight. I’ll set it up.”

******

The boss sat behind his desk listening to the two men explain what they’d learned. In his mind there was just one explanation for what they’d found.

“They’re a ruse. Walsh knew someone would try to dig into his businesses, discover his secrets. He setup a second set to throw off anyone prying into his affairs. He hopes that whoever finds it will stop there, think there was nothing else to discover.” He fell silent and leaned back in his chair. “There’s a third book somewhere. That’s the ledger that will tell the full story and seal his fate. I’m convinced of it.”

“If there is a third book, it’s in his office. Walsh leaves each night with nothing but his coat and hat. I’ve observed him for weeks, coming and going from the Denver Rose. Everything important takes place upstairs, not in his home,” the associate said.

“Find it. Do whatever you have to, but get the information we need to stop him. Time is becoming scarce. Do we understand each other?”

His visitors nodded before standing to leave.

“One more item. I must travel back East. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. This is where you can reach me.” He handed a piece of paper to his associate. “You let me know if you find a third book, and if Pierce is able to learn anything from it.”

******

Cold Creek, Colorado

“You’re sure that’s the man?” Frank asked Clint and Jay.

“That’s him, Sheriff. I’d recognize that smell and face anywhere,” Jay replied.

“Clint?”

“That’s one of them. I understand the other one was with him today.” Clint walked up to the bars to get a good look at the prisoner.

“He was, but rode off before we could stop him. You want to press charges?” Frank asked.

Both responded in the affirmative.

“All right. I’ll be in touch as soon as the circuit judge gets here. Until then, I’ll keep looking for the other man, as well as whoever is riding with them. I expect you two will escort Mrs. Bierdan back to the ranch?”

“We will, Sheriff. And thanks for getting one of them,” Clint said as he closed the office door.

“Hey, wait a minute, Sheriff,” Vern yelled from his jail cell. “I didn’t do nothing. Never seen those two in my life.” The man had yet to admit a thing, including his association with Luther or information about a boss. They had him on the beatings, but that was all. He’d be kept in jail for now. Eventually he’d crack.

Frank looked at his dusty boots and shook his head. “Vern, you and I are going to get along a lot better if you just stay quiet. Maybe you should consider the sins of your ways. Might be time for you to have a change in direction.” He walked to the desk and sat down. He had yet to meet a criminal that confessed his guilt instead of proclaiming his innocence, and the guiltier they were, the louder they yelled. He guessed he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.

******

The loud crash brought Tess and Jericho dashing toward Drew’s room. They didn’t stop to ask if they could enter, but shoved the door open. What they saw brought a gasp from each. Drew lay flat on his stomach, his chair pushed back to the wall. He had on his pants but the shirt he’d worn earlier was missing.

Jericho bent down to wrap his arms around Drew’s chest and haul him up. “You should have called me.”

“I would have, Mr. Jericho, but I wanted to try this by myself. It was a damn stupid thing to do,” Drew growled as Jericho positioned him in his chair. Then he spotted Tess.

She stood still, her breathing somewhat labored, her eyes fixed on his naked torso. The memory of him—on his side, unconscious, oozing blood from a hole in his back, caked in dirt—assaulted her. It took a moment to remember this wasn’t that day months ago. That it was tonight, in her father’s home. He’d only fallen. That was all.

“Tess?” Drew asked in a soft voice. When she didn’t raise her head, but continued to stare, he repeated her name. “Tess, look at me. Are you all right?”

She took a slow, measured breath to ease her racing heart. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. How did you end up on the floor?”

He looked at Jericho and shook his head just enough so the man would notice. “Bent too far forward and slipped out of it. Thought it was against the wall, but guess not.” He wasn’t ready to share with Tess the additional exercises Doc Wheaton had ordered. It had only been three nights and he had a long way to go. “I’m fine now. Mr. Jericho will help me get ready for bed.”

“If you’re sure,” Tess said and backed out of the room. “Goodnight, Drew. Mr. Jericho.”

“Goodnight, Tess,” Drew’s gaze followed her out of his room.

“What were you trying to do, kill yourself?” Jericho asked as he helped Drew move from the chair onto his bed. “If you wanted to do some more of those exercises the doc ordered, all you had to do was call me.” His voice was gruff, but Drew knew the irritated sound was due to concern, not anger.

“I needed to try it on my own. Almost pulled myself up but I lost my grip and the chair slipped.”

“You want to try it alone, fine, but call me first. Don’t want you to go messing up that pretty face of yours, Mr. MacLaren. Miss Tess may not like it.” Jericho’s comment was meant as jest, but his face bore the expression of a man who understood the impact his words would have on his boss.

Drew didn’t reply, but the words stuck in his mind after Jericho had left the room. For the first time, Drew realized most of what he did was so that he could be the man Tess needed and feel he was worthy to court her. The other night in the barn and their time on the porch confirmed his suspicions that she’d be interested in him even if he never took another step. But that wasn’t good enough for him. He wouldn’t let her know how much he cared about her until he could walk up and say the words. Drew hoped she’d wait.

******

Denver, Colorado

“Vern’s been arrested by the sheriff of Cold Creek on some trumped up charge,” Ira spat out after he’d read the latest telegram from Luther. “I’ll need to send more men.” He looked at Connor. “Send Dex and Carl up to see me.”

“Sure, but I’ll need replacements for them.”

“Your decision. Right now I need to work out this mess with Vern.”

“Need my help?” Connor asked.

Ira glanced up and considered the offer. But no, that would give Connor too much insight into his operation. That couldn’t happen. “No, I’ll take care of it.”

Connor left the room, already knowing the two men he’d hire. He walked down the hallway to the stairs but stopped at the top. It was midday and the saloon was quiet. Connor looked over the bar, the small stage, and toward the back room. Nothing caught his attention. He was a cautious man—trust came hard. He knew he must be extra careful around a man like Walsh. Connor’s gut told him that no matter what Ira planned for Cold Creek, it wasn’t good.

He continued down the stairs just as a man he’d never seen before walked into the saloon. Every stitch of clothing the stranger wore was black, except for a red bandana tied around his neck. He was mid-height and wore matching pistols positioned so the butts faced forward. The hair on Connor’s neck bristled.

He walked up to Connor but didn’t extend a hand. “I’m looking for Walsh.”

“He expecting you?”

The man glared at Connor with the look of someone who wasn’t used to being questioned or detained.

“He’s here to see me. Let him pass,” Ira said from the balcony above.

The stranger brushed passed Connor and took the steps at a slow pace, casting a smirk over his shoulder to the small crowd below. Ira slapped the visitor on the back before escorting him into his office and shutting the door. Connor could hear the lock click into place.

“You recognize him, Connor?” Nelson walked up once the balcony was clear.

“No.”

“I do. He’s Sebastian Drago. A hired gun and known for doing anything for the right price. Wonder what Walsh wants with him?”

Connor asked himself the same thing. He’d never met Drago but had heard of him, and what he’d heard was worse than most people could imagine. He wondered if Drago’s arrival had anything to do with the Bierdan ranch. If so, Walsh had upped the ante tenfold.

******

Drago walked to the window and peered out. No one. He’d thought he’d been followed, but then he always assumed he was being tracked. Over the years his face had been on and off of wanted posters more times than he could count but no one had ever been able to pin anything on him. Had come close, but nothing stuck. He’d kept a lower profile since working for Walsh, running the import business, a business he’d suggested.

“Sit down, Drago. You make me nervous pacing about,” Ira said and offered his guest a cheroot and light.

Drago took it as well as a seat across from Walsh. “Why’d you send for me?”

“I’ve got a situation that needs your attention.”

“Where?”

“Cold Creek, Colorado. West of here.”

“What’s it involve?” Drago took a draw from the square-cut cigar and let the smoke go in a long, slow breath.