Lone Star 04 (14 page)

“Del, get a look at this!” The man with the lantern was standing at the edge of the alley, and the others were crowded around him. The deputy walked past Jessie and Ki, and squatted on his heels.

“Holy shit!” he said between his teeth. “‘Scuse me, ma'am.” He poked a finger at the big print in the dirt. “Frank,” he called over his shoulder, “get a couple of boys with Winchesters and lanterns and see if you can figure where that thing took off to. You ain't goin' to find nothin‘, so don't go shootin' in the dark.” He stood and looked at Ki. “Gaiter got off a couple of shots. How close was that thing to him?”

“I saw it,” said Jessie. “The animal was right on top of him.”

Delbert looked at her. “You sure, lady?”

“Of course I'm sure!”

Ki nodded soberly and turned to face her. “I saw the thing too, Jessie. I think what the deputy's saying is that there is no blood on the ground. If Marshal Gaiter hit the animal even once with a .44—”

“Ki—” Jessie shook her head in disbelief. “I
saw
it! He practically poked the muzzle down that thing's throat!”

Delbert chewed his lip a moment, then walked over and found Gaiter's pistol, broke open the chamber, and closed it again. Holding the weapon at a slight angle, he fired two shots into the ground. Dirt coughed up, leaving two neat grooves in the street. “Nothing's wrong with his bullets,” he said. “Guess you folks didn't see as clear as you figured.” Jessie started to protest, but Delbert held up a hand. “Things don't always look like they seem, you go through something like that, ma‘am.”

“Yes, I—guess you're right,” Jessie said lamely.

Delbert nodded. “You folks mind goin' over to the office a minute? Someone's got to write this up, and I guess that's me. We could do it in the morning, I s‘pose . . .”

“No, now'll be just fine,” said Jessie.

“Be right over, then. Soon's I get things kinda cleaned up here.” The deputy left them, and Ki and Jessie turned back up the street. As soon as the man was out of hearing, Jessie stopped Ki and faced him squarely.

“I
know
what I saw,” she said fiercely, “and so do you. Gaiter
couldn't
have missed, Ki. Not at that range.”

“No, I know that, Jessie. But he did, didn't he? And he wasn't shooting blanks.”

“I know what I saw,” she muttered.

“Maybe we'd better start using some of Gustolf's silver bullets.

Jessie's green eyes flashed. “Ki, that is
not
very funny!”

“It's what you were thinking.”

“Maybe. But I had the good sense not to say it.” She stepped off the street onto the board sidewalk and into Gaiter's front office. The marshal's chair was pulled away from his desk, just as he'd left it moments before. A dim lantern swung from the ceiling. Jessie wrinkled her nose at the smell of stale whiskey and steak grease, stalked across the office, and opened the rear door. There was a short hallway and a single cell. Another lantern hung from the low ceiling. In the hall was a table full of plates, congealed steak bones, and half-empty bottles of good bourbon. The cell door was open and Lucy Jordan was gone.

Jessie stood in the hall with her hands on her hips. “How come I'm not at all surprised, Ki? The marshal's dead, Lucy Jordan's escaped, and guess who left the party early? Our good friend Torgler.
Damn!”
Jessie kicked an empty bottle and sent it shattering across the floor.

“An amazing set of coincidences,” Ki agreed solemnly.

Jessie took one last look around the room, marched past Ki, and perched on the edge of Gaiter's desk. “He did it, you know,” she flared. “I don't know how, but he did it. The marshal had served his purpose, and Torgler
knew
we saw right through him. So he shut Gaiter up and let Lucy out!”

Ki thought a moment. “Why not get rid of Lucy Jordan as well?”

“Maybe he did,” shrugged Jessie. “He couldn't very well do it here, could he? Even the good folks of Roster wouldn't buy too many bodies showing up in one night. You know what, though? I don't think Torgler'd touch Lucy Jordan. She's much too good at what she does.” Jessie made a face.

“No use firing a good employee who can still put in an honest day's work for you. Anyway—” Jessie stopped as heavy bootsteps sounded outside and the marshal's deputy stepped through the door.

“Appreciate you folks comin' by,” he said evenly. “This won't take but a minute.” He looked at Jessie and Ki and shook his head. “We didn't get us any wolf, which don't much surprise me. Most of them boys wasn't too anxious to look real hard in the dark and—” The deputy cut himself off and looked curiously from Ki to Jessie. “Why do I get the idea there's somethin' goin' on here I don't know?”

“Because there is,” Jessie said flatly. “Your cell back there's kind of empty, Mr. Delbert. Someone let your prisoner loose while Gaiter was making his rounds.”

“Aw, hell...” Delbert looked as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. “Jack sure left me a barrel of snakes, didn't he? Who you reckon got in here?”

Jessie stood and hitched up her belt. “No one had to get in,” she said blandly. “Someone was already here. Lucy's attorney, Mr. Torgler. When Ki and I left a while ago, they were all having a party.”

“Is that so? You see ‘em?”

“We saw all the food and whiskey going in. Of course, if you go talk to Torgler, you'll find he likely left before the marshal, and was somewhere else entirely.”

Delbert took off his hat and scratched his head. “Funny you should say that, ma‘am—”

“What's so funny about it?”

“‘Cause it's true, Miss Starbuck. One of the boys knew Torgler was a friend of Jack Gaiter's and went over to the hotel to tell him. Woke him up out of a sound sleep. Said the man was shaken real good. Couldn't believe Jack was dead, 'cause he'd just had supper with him.” Delbert paused and looked at Jessie. “Listen, you're not tryin' to say Mr. Torgler let that little gal out of here, are you?”

Jessie glanced at the ceiling. “Now why would I want to do that?”

“I don't know,” Delbert said narrowly. “From what I hear, he's a real fine man. And he sure did think some of old Jack!”

“We know,” said Jessie.

“Not all of it, you don‘t,” Delbert told her. “He's footin' the whole funeral out of his own pocket. Told old McTavish he wanted a brand-new two-hundred-dollar coffin in on the next train from Kansas City, and a fifty-dollar suit. You can't hardly do more than that for a man, now can you?”

Chapter 11

Jessie walked out of the hotel, squinted into the early morning light, and stared in amazement at Main. For a moment she decided she'd somehow gotten up in the wrong town. The normally sleepy street was swarming with people. Horses were packed together at the hitching posts, and wagons rattled by, forcing townfolk to scatter.

“Good Lord,” said Jessie, “what do you suppose it is, Ki? A gold rush or the circus come to town?”

“Closer to the circus,” Ki said glumly. “Look there, past the livery.” He touched Jessie's arm and guided her to the end of the wooden sidewalk. Raw wood posts had been driven into the dirt, and half the alley was roped off. A crowd of citizens three deep were shouldering each other aside to get a peek. Inside the rope stood Mac Delbert, the lean part-time deputy they'd met the night before. His ragged denims and old jacket had been replaced by a shiny black suit, white shirt, string tie, and a red silk vest that had seen better days. A battered, quickly brushed derby was perched on his head. On the livery wall behind Delbert was a hastily scrawled sign in bright red paint:

“Oh, my God,” moaned Jessie, “I can't believe this!”

“What you can believe,” Ki said wryly, “is that Delbert is already running for town marshal.”

“He'll likely win, too. Come on, let's get some breakfast before I lose my appetite.”

After another half-block, Jessie saw she'd spoken too soon. The sight behind the plate glass window of the McTavish Undertaking Parlour was anything but conducive to a hearty breakfast. The late Jack Gaiter was laid out stiff as a board on a red plush couch. His suit was brand new, and Jessie was sure he'd never worn one nearly so fine standing up. A shiny silver star was pinned to his chest, and a dove-gray ascot circled his ruined throat. McTavish had made a real effort to bring Gaiter's color back to his face, and had evidently gotten carried away with his work. Jessie tried to find a more charitable way to describe the man, but her first thought stuck. The marshal looked a lot like a dead clown.

To top off the scene, the enterprising undertaker had cut out a picture and pasted it against the glass, a catalog engraving of the fine plush coffin Torgler had ordered from Kansas City—price tag included. The whole business made Jessie furious.

“Well, good morning, Miss Starbuck. Terrible tragedy, wasn't it?”

Jessie recognized the voice and turned around, making no effort to hide her anger. “This medicine show your doing, Torgler? It's sure got your mark on it.”

Torgler's cold blue eyes sparkled like ice. “Why, whatever do you mean, dear lady?”

“You know exactly what I mean. And for God's sake, please don't waste your good manners on me. We understand each other perfectly, mister.”

“Why, yes, I suppose we do, don't we?”

“Exactly. And it's not over yet. You just keep that in mind.”

“Oh, I will, Miss Starbuck. I most certainly will.” Jessie held his gaze, but shuddered inside. There was nothing behind the man's eyes. It was like looking into the windows of a cold empty house where nobody lived. She was relieved when two prim ladies elbowed her aside to get to Torgler.

“Oh, my,” gushed the fatter of the pair, “what a noble gesture, Mr. Torgler, honoring our marshal like this. You have made Roster so proud!”

“Oh, so proud indeed!” echoed the second.

“A pleasure on my part,” said Torgler, tipping the brim of his hat. “The very least one can do for a fallen warrior.”

“How well said,” agreed the first lady, shaking her head at Gaiter's still form. “Such a fine, fine man. He'll be sorely missed in Roster...”

Jessie couldn't stand it any longer. No one in Roster had even
noticed
the marshal until he appeared in McTavish's front window—certainly not these two biddies.

“Hey, hold it a minute, folks!” Jessie stepped forward and raised her hands to get the crowd's attention. “I think we owe Marshal Gaiter more than just a coffin and a fine funeral. I think we owe him the satisfaction of knowing this kind of thing will never happen in Roster again.” She paused to make certain every head was turned her way. “That's why I'm offering two hundred and fifty U.S. dollars for every freshly killed wolf hide I see nailed to that livery wall!”

The crowd stared at Jessie, then broke into a ragged cheer. Hats flew into the air, and men rushed down the street to spread the news. Torgler went livid. His cold eyes bored into Jessie and he turned on his heels and stalked away.

Jessie laughed out loud, tossed her hair back over her shoulders, and let Ki guide her through the crowd into the street.
“Now
I've got an appetite, Ki. Let's get some breakfast inside us and ride out to the settlement. I am
not
going to let him get away with this. If I have to sit on Gustolf myself, he isn't going to sell out to Torgler!”

 

 

The café was relatively empty, since nearly everyone in town was out milling in the street. Jessie ordered a breakfast steak, hotcakes, and potatoes, and downed two cups of coffee before the feast arrived.

“All right,” she said finally, slicing into her steak, “you haven't said two words since we sat down. You don't approve, do you?”

“Do I have to answer that?”

“I don't think so. I'm getting the message real clearly.”

“It has nothing to do with approving, Jessie. You are in danger from that man. He wants to see you dead. Now you have given him further reason.”

Jessie stared, quickly swallowed a bite of potatoes, and washed it down with coffee. “Good grief, Ki. Are you serious? Do you honestly think the man could hate me any more than he does now?” She shook her head and waved a fork in his face. “He used Marshal Gaiter, then murdered him. I don't know how he did it, but you know as well as I do that he's guilty. He also turned that redheaded assassin loose again, and I'm not too happy about that. And what did he get for it? My God—he's the town hero of Roster!”