by Al Lacy
Joseph’s head wobbled. “Don’ lecture me, girl. An’ don’ try throwin’ my whis-whiskey bottles away any more, either. I bought a good supply, an’ I intend to drink every last drop. If you throw ’em away, I’ll jus’ go out an’ buy more. So don’ bother yourself.”
Rachel sighed. “Do you want to see Mr. Preslan or not?”
Joseph rubbed his aching forehead and said, “Oh, all right. Bring him in.”
Rachel moved out into the hall. “Millie, would you go down and tell Mr. Preslan that my father will see him?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rachel leaned against the doorjamb and massaged her temples, saying in a low whisper, “Aunt Esther, you’ve got to pray harder.”
Preslan reached the top of the stairs and hurried toward her. “Hello, Rachel. Is … is he talkable?”
“To a degree. I hope you can get through to him.”
“I have to.”
“Well, he’s expecting you. At least he was a few seconds ago. I’ll go in with you and make sure.”
Rachel entered the room with Preslan on her heels.
“Daddy, Mr. Preslan is here. Do you remember that you said you would see him?”
Joseph looked at her blankly. His head bobbed as he said, “Course I remember. How are you, Roy?”
“Physically I’m fine, sir. Mentally, not so good. That’s why I’ve got to talk to you today.”
Joseph’s eyelids drooped, and he gestured toward a straight-backed chair. “Grab that chair over there.”
Rachel excused herself and stepped into the hall. She left the door open an inch or so and pressed her ear close to the opening. It wasn’t long until she learned of the terrible shape the company was in. Many of the employees feared the company was going to collapse and had taken jobs elsewhere, which meant a loss of customers. This past week, the company could not meet payroll, and many more had given notice that they were leaving.
Rachel could tell that Preslan sincerely cared what happened to the company and was trying to get through to her father’s whiskey-clouded brain. But by her father’s mumbled response she gathered that he either didn’t grasp what he was being told or didn’t care.
Soon Preslan was on his way toward the door. Rachel took a few steps back and pretended that she had come from further up the hall.
Preslan looked at her and shook his head. “He’s in bad shape, Miss Rachel.”
“How well I know.”
Rachel walked him downstairs to the door and thanked him for coming, then went back upstairs, feeling sick to her stomach. She must start making cutbacks in household expenses and do everything she could to avert financial ruin. Although Cecil was out of the hospital, he was still recovering in a sanitarium. The doctors had informed her that he might never be able to do the gardener’s job again. She would just have to take care of the garden herself. If things got really bad, she might even have to let Millie go. But at least she would do everything in her power to find Millie another job.
Her mind flashed back to the tragedy that had started this downward spiral. She hoped the man who had run her mother down on that stormy night was miserable.
LATE IN OCTOBER, ADAM BURKE was looking through the filing cabinet near his desk when he heard the front door open. He looked up to see his new friend. “Well, good morning, Bill. Nice to see you.”
“You too,” said William Dauntt. “Just thought I’d stop by and see how you’re doing, now that you’ve been here a few weeks. How’s it going for you?”
“It’s going well. I’m enjoying the furniture and other office items I bought from you, and as for clients, I’m picking up new ones just about every day. Sometimes I’ve picked up several in one day. Word’s beginning to spread to the small towns all around and to the outlying ranchers and farmers. Looks like I’m going to do well in North Platte.”
“Glad to hear it. I’ll be needing some legal work done in a few weeks myself. I’ll be in to see you about it.”
“It’ll be my pleasure to serve you, Bill.”
Dauntt eyed the file cabinet. “So how soon’ll you be looking for a secretary to take over that kind of work?”
“The way it’s going, it won’t be long. So far I’m able to keep up with the filing and correspondence, but soon I’ll be wanting to pass that work on to some young, bright-eyed secretary.”
“It may take you a while to come up with one. Most of the married women aren’t wanting to work outside the home. You’ll probably have to find a single girl somewhere.”
Adam chuckled. “And those are few and far between. I met a young lady on the train on my way here. She was going on to Colorado as a mail order bride.”
“Yeah?”
“She warned me that single ladies were scarce as hen’s teeth out here. I’m beginning to believe she knew what she was talking about. I’ve had my eye out for some female companionship, but so far I haven’t found it. All the young ladies who aren’t yet married seem to be spoken for.”
A lopsided grin curved Bill Dauntt’s mouth. “Well, Adam, maybe you’ll have to get yourself one of those mail order brides and put her to work as your secretary!”
Adam shook his head. “Oh, no! I’m not going to marry some gal I ordered through the mail.”
“Well, it may get pretty lonely, son.”
“One of these days some pert little gal will come to North Platte looking to marry a handsome, dashing attorney.”
Dauntt laughed. “Well, even if she did, where would she find an attorney like that?”
Adam laughed as his friend waved jauntily and left the office. He went back to his filing. When that was finished, he began work on a will he was drawing up for a middle-aged rancher and his wife.
On Monday of the next week, Adam carried some mail to the Wells Fargo office, where it would be put on a stagecoach and taken to the post office in Grand Island. As he neared his office to return to work, he saw a group of townsmen standing in front of the county land office in friendly conversation. Some of them he had met; others were strangers. One of the men he knew motioned to him and said, “Adam, come over here and meet these fellas.”
Within minutes, Adam had two new clients. He set appointments for them to come to his office and started to excuse himself when one of the group looked across the wide, dusty street and called out, “Hey, Patch! How you doin’?”
The man gave a quick wave and hurried inside the store. The sign above it read North Platte Clothiers. The brief glimpse Adam had of the man showed him a black patch over his left eye.
“Patch live here in town?” Adam said, turning back to the group.
“Sure does,” one of the men said. “Patch Smith. He owns North Platte Clothiers.”
“Just about all the merchants and businessmen in town have come by my office to welcome me to North Platte, but I haven’t met Mr. Smith. Guess I’ll take a minute one of these days and go introduce myself.”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t dropped in on you. He’s a right friendly fellow.”
“Probably been too busy,” Adam said. “So what’s his real name? I assume he picked up the name Patch when he lost his eye.”
“I don’t rightly know his real name. Patch is all I’ve heard since he came here.”
“That’s been a lotta years too,” another man said.
At that moment a well-dressed man came out of the clothing store and headed across the street.
“Well, look who’s back,” one of the men said. “Howdy, Preacher!”
The others in the group greeted him and asked about his trip to Chicago. Adam learned that he was pastor of the town’s only church, and his name was Tom Gann. He was a rugged-looking man with an angular face, square jaw, and a kind look in his gray eyes.
Gann shook Adam’s hand and said, “I understand I’m a little late for this, Mr. Burke, but welcome to North Platte. As you can tell, I’ve been out of town for a few weeks.”
“Yes, sir,” Adam said, “and thank you for your words of welcom
e. The folks here have made me feel a part of the town already.”
“Good. I just saw Wallace and Minnie Melroy in the clothing store across the street. They told me you’re living in their boardinghouse.”
“Yes, sir. They’re wonderful people. I understand they’re members of your church.”
“And very good ones, too. I want to extend an invitation to you, Mr. Burke. How about visiting our services next Sunday?”
“I’ll attend sometime soon, Pastor. Can’t promise about this coming Sunday, but one of these Sundays, I’ll come.”
“Fair enough. Well, it’s been nice to meet you.” Gann shook hands with Adam again, said a few departing words to the other men, and headed down the street.
“Well, good morning, ladies!” said a man in the group.
Adam turned around to see two women coming along the boardwalk. The resemblance between them was strong enough that they had to be mother and daughter. Adam was promptly introduced to Madge and Olivia Dahl. Madge and her husband Bert owned the Bar-D Ranch a few miles south of town.
“So where’s Bert?” one of the men said, looking around.
“He’ll be along in a few minutes,” Madge replied. “He’s picking up some grain at North Platte Feed and Supply. Olivia and I are going to the bank. We heard that one of the tellers is leaving, and Olivia’s going to apply for the job.”
Adam stepped closer to the pretty girl and said, “Miss Olivia, I’ll need to hire a secretary sometime soon. Would you be interested? I was just thinking that if you were interested in bank work you no doubt could learn to do law office work.”
Olivia looked at her mother, who was smiling, then said, “Well-l-l, I—”
“I’ll pay you ten dollars a week more than the bank would … to start.”
Olivia’s eyes lit up. “I heard the bank starts inexperienced tellers at twelve dollars a week.”
“Then I’ll pay you twenty-two,” said Adam, using his most charming smile. “How about it?”
“All right. You’ll have to teach me a lot, I’m sure. But I promise I’ll give you my best.”
“I have no doubt about that. How soon can you start?”
Olivia looked at her mother. “Well, honey,” Madge said, “you did promise Evalena that you’d be the maid of honor in her wedding.”
“But I could come right back instead of staying with Aunt Bertha and Uncle Charlie, couldn’t I?”
“Of course. I’m sure they’ll understand. You might’ve had to do the same if you’d taken the bank job.”
Olivia turned back to Adam. “Could I start a week from today, Mr. Burke?”
“That’d be great. Let’s see, that will be November 5. I open the office at eight o’clock. Could you be here by seven-thirty?”
“Of course.”
“It’ll only be for the first day. After that, you can come in at ten minutes before opening time.”
“That’ll be fine, sir. Thank you! I’ll be here at seven-thirty a week from today. Anything I need to bring?”
“Just your bright smile. I have everything else you need at the office.”
“Well, honey,” Madge said, “we’d better get going. We still have to go to the bank so I can make the deposit. Your father plans to pick us up there.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to tell Papa and Russ about the job!”
Madge smiled at Adam. “Thank you, Mr. Burke, for giving Olivia the job. The extra money will be a great help.”
Adam returned to his office elated. Finding a secretary had been much quicker and easier than he had anticipated. And it wouldn’t hurt the firm to have such a lovely young lady in the front office either. Not one bit.
After spending a few days at the Chief United States Marshal’s office in Kansas City, Seth Coleman boarded a train bound for Omaha. He sighed with pleasure as he took a seat beside the window in the last passenger coach and watched other passengers saying good-bye to friends and relatives. The other five deputies who had traveled from Washington to Kansas City with him had been assigned to offices farther west. Seth was satisfied to be stationed at Omaha. He wondered if Adam Burke had realized his dream of establishing his own law firm in North Platte.
Soon the train was rolling northward out of Kansas City. The conductor entered the rear of the coach and began collecting tickets.
For a while, the train followed the east bank of the Missouri River, then the river passed from view. Seth laid his head back, closed his eyes, and saw the face of Bettieann Ralston. This brought a flood of memories to his mind. The more he tried to push them away, the more vivid they became.
He opened his eyes, sat up, and gazed at the Missouri hills rushing by his window. Soon the Missouri River came back into view, and shortly thereafter the conductor passed through the coach announcing the next stop, St. Joseph. Soon the train was chugging into the St. Joseph depot, and Seth watched the crowd on the platform as new passengers began to board. Suddenly he spotted a familiar face just outside his window. Dave Harmon!
Seth had been part of a team of police officers who chased Harmon through the streets and alleys of Philadelphia after he had robbed a bank and wounded a bank employee. It was Seth who finally cornered Harmon, disarmed him, and arrested him. Harmon had been sentenced to fifteen years in the federal penitentiary near Scranton but had escaped from the prison almost a year ago.
Harmon was in close conversation with three other men, and it appeared they were going to board the train. Seth wondered if Harmon was now into robbing trains. He studied Harmon’s three friends and memorized their faces and what they were wearing. As soon as the train started rolling, he would take a little walk to see if Harmon and his friends had spread out into all three cars.
When the voice of the conductor began calling for all passengers to board, Harmon and his friends moved out of Seth’s line of sight. Seth removed his badge and put it in his shirt pocket. A well-dressed man carrying a valise sat down beside him. Seth greeted him then turned his attention back to the situation with Harmon and his cronies.
Sure enough, one of Harmon’s cohorts entered the coach and took a seat near the front. Moments later, the train rolled out of the depot.
From the corner of his eye Seth saw the man next to him open his valise and take out a Bible. “Ah,” he said. “I see you love the same Book I do.”
“There’s no Book like it. I’m Ken Myers,” the man said, extending his hand. “I pastor a church in Omaha that believes this Book from cover to cover. In fact, we even believe the cover because it says Holy Bible.”
Seth chuckled. “Well, amen to that! I’d like to talk to you some more, Pastor Myers, but I have a little errand to do first. I’ll be back in a bit. Excuse me, please.”
Seth squeezed past Myers and stepped into the aisle. He walked past Dave Harmon’s friend and casually glanced down at him. The man seemed a bit nervous.
Seth stepped onto the platform of the swaying coach and passed into the next car. He paused at the door and studied the backs of the men’s heads. If Harmon was in this car, Seth would have to get past him without being recognized. It took only seconds to spot another one of Harmon’s pals, but Dave Harmon was nowhere to be seen. The robber was seated alone near the front.
Seth proceeded to the first passenger coach, paused just inside the door, and did his study again. Dave Harmon was on a seat near the front, sitting by the aisle. An elderly woman sat beside him, looking out the window. Directly across the aisle was Harmon’s other cohort, sitting alone.
Seth turned around and left the coach, heading back toward his own car. Myers looked up from his Bible when Seth stopped at the seat, then squeezed past him to sit down.
“Pastor Myers, I’m a deputy U.S. marshal,” Seth said, leaning close to the preacher and keeping his voice low. He took the badge from his shirt pocket momentarily for Myers to see. Seth quietly explained the situation, including the fact that the robbers were spread out, ready to go into action.
“I need your help, Pastor. It co
uld involve some danger, but I’ve got to keep these four from robbing the train, and at the same time I’ve got to arrest them.”
“You can count on me,” Myers whispered. “I was a combat leader in the Civil War. I know about danger.”
Seth pointed out the robber near the front door of the coach. “I could take him out right now, but if I did I wouldn’t have the goods on him. I have to let him show himself as one of the robbers. All I ask is that if there’s any way you can overpower him once he shows himself—without endangering any of the passengers—do it.”
“There’s an empty seat directly across the aisle from him,” Myers said. “I’ll move up there.”
“I’m going up to the lead car again,” Seth whispered. “Pray for me.”
Myers nodded. “You go ahead. I’ll change seats in a minute.”
Seth made his way past Harmon’s cohort and moved out onto the platform. Harmon’s man in car number two was still in place. As Seth passed him, he prayed, Lord, help me to be able to take care of this one somehow. Please don’t let any of the passengers get hurt.
When Seth entered coach number one, he saw that Harmon had left his seat and was not in the car, though the other robber was still in his place. Seth suspected Harmon was headed toward the engine. He opened the door and stepped out onto the platform. Harmon’s man eyed him and waited a few moments before getting up to follow him.
As soon as Seth was on the platform, he caught a glimpse of Harmon inching across the catwalk on the side of the coal car, gun in hand. Seth moved to the ladder on the rear of the baggage coach and was starting to climb it when he heard the door of the car behind him open. He looked back and saw Harmon’s man glaring at him.
“Where you goin’?” the robber demanded.
Seth grinned and moved toward him. “Just curious. I saw some guy heading toward the engine, and I wondered what he was doing.”
The man clawed for his gun, but Seth moved with lightning speed and sent a hard fist to the man’s jaw. The punch bounced the robber off the door of the coach. When he rebounded, Seth hit him again, and the man went down in a heap.