“Maybe you fellas ought to take charge of her!” he suggested to the two police officers.
They didn’t want any part of that. The one who had hung back suddenly said, “Why don’t you stay here and keep an eye on things, Bob? I’ll fetch the chief!”
The first officer jerked his head around. “Don’t you go off—”
But it was too late. The second officer had already moved down the hall toward the landing practically at a run, judging from the rapidity of his footsteps.
The first officer sighed and told Ace, “All right, hang on to her. Maybe both of you better do that. But be careful. Her father’s an important man in this town. Don’t hurt her.”
“We’ll be as gentle as we can,” promised Ace.
It wasn’t easy. Lydia continued to struggle, as well as unleashing a torrent of profanity that might have shocked a muleskinner. Despite everything that had happened, Ace was starting to feel sorry for her. It was obvious she wasn’t right in the head.
After a few minutes, Lydia’s cursing seemed to run out of steam. She let her head sag forward and began to sob. That was almost more disturbing. Like most men, none of the hombres in the room reacted well to a woman’s tears.
For that reason, all of them were relieved when another uniformed man bustled into the room, trailed by several more officers.
“Good Lord, Bob,” he boomed to the first officer, “from what I heard, I expected a war over here. Instead, I find one woman and a bunch of men standing around looking like they’re afraid of—” He stopped short and peered at Lydia, then nodded. “Oh. I understand now.”
“That’s right, Chief. I figured you’d want to handle this personally.”
The St. Louis chief of police cleared his throat. “Well, it’s not so much that I want to . . . but I suppose I had better, under the circumstances.” He looked over at the gambler. “Drake, what do you have to do with this?”
For the next few minutes, Steve Drake explained the situation, with comments added every now and then by Ace and Chance. Ace expected Lydia to perk up and start arguing again, but all the fight seemed to have gone out of her.
He sure as blazes wasn’t going to complain about that.
When the story was finished, the chief of police nodded slowly. “It seems to me that there’s only one thing to do here. Drake, you and your young friends need to get out of town.”
“Wait a minute,” exclaimed Chance. “We didn’t do anything wrong—”
Steve Drake held up a hand to stop him. “We were already leaving in less than an hour,” he reminded Chance.
“Yeah, but I don’t like being run out of town,” said the younger man with a frown.
The chief said, “You know good and well I can’t lock up Miss McIsaac or anything of that sort. Her father wouldn’t stand for it, and he and the mayor are best friends.”
“I understand,” said Drake. “She really does need someone to look after her, though, for her own good.”
Bennett had gotten to his feet, shaking off the grogginess he had displayed earlier. With a scowl directed toward the gambler and the Jensen boys, he said, “I’ll make sure she’s all right. Her father pays me to take care of things for him. I . . . uh, I reckon this can be one of ’em.”
“More power to you, my friend,” said Drake.
“We ain’t friends, and don’t get the idea we are.” Bennett paused as his brawny shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “But I guess it ain’t all your fault. I can see that now.”
“Take Miss McIsaac home,” the chief told him.
Bennett nodded and put an arm around Lydia as Ace and Chance let go of her. Ace watched her closely in case she tried to attack one of them again, but the spell that had gripped her earlier, whatever it was, appeared to be over. Bennett steered her toward the door, and she went along meekly.
“I don’t envy that fella his job,” Ace said.
The chief of police turned to Drake and the brothers. “Get your things and move on out while you’ve got the chance.”
“It still feels like we’re being railroaded,” Chance complained.
“Not railroaded,” Drake said with a smile. “Steam-boated is a more accurate description.”
“Whatever you call it, it’s not fair.”
“You may be young, my friend, but you’re old enough to know that life seldom is.”
Aboard the Missouri Belle
“We didn’t waste much time getting in trouble again, did we?” said Ace as he and Chance stood at the railing with Steve Drake. “Haven’t even been gone from St. Louis for twelve hours, and we were already fighting for our lives again.”
“And having our bacon saved by you, Mr. Drake,” added Chance.
“I think we’ve all done enough for each other that things are square between us,” the gambler said. “And perhaps now that we’ve left St. Louis behind, we’ve left all our troubles behind as well.”
Ace grunted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“You know,” mused Chance, “I never would have thought that having a beautiful girl come after you would be such a problem.”
“You can always have too much of a good thing,” Drake pointed out.
“Too much of a beautiful girl?” Chance shook his head. “You know, even after everything that happened back there, I’m not so sure I believe such a thing is possible!”
CHAPTER SIX
Some of the cabins on the Missouri Belle were large and opulent, while others were small and cramped.
To save money, Ace and Chance had decided to take one of the smaller cabins. They were a little crowded, but they could put up with the close quarters for a while, until they were ready to leave the riverboat.
Steve Drake had a larger cabin on the same deck, several doors away from the one where the Jensen brothers were staying. He was lounging at the rail, smoking a cheroot, when the younger men emerged from their cabin the next morning.
“We’ll be docking in Kansas City soon,” he told them after saying good morning. “Then you can finish conducting your business with Edward Krauss, Chance.”
“I don’t like that fella,” said Chance. “I hate a sore loser.”
“Krauss hasn’t had to deal with losing very often in his life. He’s a rich, powerful man. People go out of their way to make sure that he’s kept happy.”
“Not me.”
“Or me, either,” said Drake with a smile. “Why don’t we go have some breakfast in the dining room? We should have plenty of time for that.”
The boat docked while they were eating. They were still sitting at one of the tables covered with a white linen cloth, sipping coffee with empty plates in front of them, when Krauss and a couple men who had been with him the night before came into the dining room.
Both of Krauss’s men had bruises on their faces, Ace noted with some satisfaction. Of course, he and Chance were a little sore as well.
“I’ve been to the telegraph office and the bank,” Krauss said without any greeting or other small talk. He reached inside his coat, took out an envelope, and slapped it down on the table in front of Chance. “There!”
The gesture was vehement enough that some of the other passengers at surrounding tables looked around to see what was going on. Chance picked up the envelope, looked inside, and smiled. Then he reached inside his coat and brought out the gold watch with its attached chain. “I believe this is what you want.”
Krauss snatched it out of his fingers, practically slapping Chance’s hand aside in the process.
“Take it easy, Krauss,” warned Drake.
Krauss studied the watch, turning it over in his fingers as he examined the front and back of it then opened it to check the face. He snapped it shut and grunted in satisfaction. “These two young scoundrels aren’t worth holding a grudge against, but I’m going to remember what you did, Drake. There’ll come a time when you’ll regret defying me.”
Drake smiled. “I’ve had a few regrets in my life. I doubt very ser
iously that this is going to turn out to be one of them.”
Krauss gave a contemptuous snort and turned away as he put the watch in his vest pocket. He stalked out of the dining room with his men trailing him.
Ace said, “If he’s as rich as you say he is, Mr. Drake, he might be able to cause some trouble for you.”
“He might try, but I have enemies who worry me a lot more than Edward Krauss does,” Drake said. “Besides, he’d have to find me first, and that’s not easy. It’s hard to predict where a man will be when he doesn’t even know that himself... as you boys should be aware, if you’re as fiddlefooted as you seem to be.”
The Missouri Belle stayed docked in Kansas City long enough for some of the cargo to be unloaded and more taken on. Some of the passengers disembarked, too, while others boarded.
Then, with a shrill blast of its steam whistle, the riverboat was on its way again, the big paddles churning the water as it pulled away from the wharves and maneuvered back into the middle of the broad, muddy stream.
The rest of the day passed pleasantly enough. Chance spent most of it in the salon with Steve Drake, while Ace checked on their horses from time to time and explored the riverboat from top to bottom, at least the areas in which he was allowed.
The texas deck, just below the pilothouse, was the highest point he could reach, and from there he was able to see far out on both sides of the river. The terrain was largely flat, although broken up somewhat by rolling hills here and there. It was still agricultural land, and Ace decided he would be glad when the boat reached open range—someplace where cattle roamed and a man could see mountains and trees.
That evening in the salon, Chance and Steve Drake were involved in a poker game again. Standing nearby watching the game, Ace realized Edward Krauss was not playing. Ace didn’t see him anywhere and in fact hadn’t seen him since that morning. Evidently, he had either left the boat in Kansas City or was staying away from the salon.
It would be fine with him if they never saw the rich, obnoxious businessman again, Ace thought.
One of the other players was a well-dressed man with white hair and a thin white mustache. The smoothness of his face indicated that the hair color was premature. Ace figured the man was still in his thirties.
As Ace followed the progress of the game, it became obvious to him that in ability, Chance, Steve Drake, and the white-haired man were at least a notch above the other players at the table.
At one point, when several of the others had dropped out, Drake raised the bet and said, “That’s a hundred to you, Mr. Haggarty.”
Ace hadn’t seen the man earlier and figured he must have boarded the Missouri Belle at Kansas City.
Haggarty’s face was unreadable as he studied his cards. After a moment he said, “I’ll see your hundred, Mr. Drake.”
“I won’t.” Chance tossed his cards facedown into the center of the table. “It’s between the two of you.”
Steve Drake turned over his hand, revealing a full house.
Haggarty grimaced, but the expression was a fleeting one. He allowed emotion onto his smooth features only for a second. “You have me beat, sir,” he said as he threw in his hand. “I honestly didn’t believe you’d landed that third nine.”
Steve Drake gathered in the pot. “Good fortune was with me.”
“Fortune favors the bold”—Haggarty took a cigar from his vest pocket, bit off the tip, and then put the cigar in his mouth, leaving it unlit—“but luck always turns sooner or later.”
“Indeed it does,” agreed Steve Drake. “Shall we see how loyal it is tonight?”
Haggarty took the cigar from his mouth and gestured expansively with it, indicating that Steve Drake should go ahead.
Haggarty won the next hand, then Chance took two after that.
Ace got bored, as he usually did whenever he watched poker for very long, and wandered back out on the main deck. It was a warm night, but there was enough breeze caused by the boat chugging along the river that it was pleasant on deck. He strolled toward the bow and spotted someone standing at the railing.
Even though there was enough light from the moon and stars for the riverboat’s pilot to keep it moving instead of tying up for the night, shadows lay over that part of the deck and Ace couldn’t tell much about the person who seemed to be staring out wistfully over the water.
Whoever it was heard his footsteps on the deck, turned, and vanished into the deeper darkness along the row of cabins.
Ace heard what sounded like the swish of skirts, then a door opened and closed. He felt a little guilty because clearly it had been a woman standing at the railing, enjoying the evening, and he had come along and spooked her. There was nothing he could do about it, so he continued his stroll, making several circuits of the deck before he went back to the cabin he shared with his brother and turned in for the night. Chance would be playing cards in the salon until late, and Ace wasn’t going to wait up for him.
He hadn’t seen any more sign of the mysterious woman.
* * *
The next day, the riverboat docked in Omaha, and Steve Drake took his leave of the Jensen brothers. “Enjoy the rest of your trip, boys,” the gambler told them as they all shook hands at the top of the gangplank connecting the Missouri Belle to the dock.
“We appreciate everything you’ve done for us, Mr. Drake,” Ace said.
“When we meet again—and I’m sure we will, since the frontier is a smaller place in many ways than most people would believe—I’ll regard it as a reunion of old friends. You should call me Steve.”
“All right,” Ace said with a nod. “I reckon I can do that.”
Chance said, “I appreciate the tips you’ve given me about cards.”
Drake waved a hand. “That didn’t amount to much, I’m afraid. Doc Monday taught you well. Just remember . . . there’s a time to be reckless and a time to cut your losses. The key is knowing which is which.”
“Yeah, being reckless is a problem sometimes,” Ace said dryly as he looked at his brother.
“I prefer to think of it as being daring,” said Chance.
Drake chuckled. “So long, boys.” He headed down the gangplank.
The Jensen boys watched him go until he disappeared among the crowded streets. Ace was a little sorry to see the older man go. He had pulled them out of bad trouble a couple times, and he had been a good friend and temporary mentor. In some ways, the past few days had been like revisiting all those years Ace and Chance had spent with Doc Monday.
Doc had made a few attempts to give up his roving ways and settle down, but those efforts had never lasted long before his restless nature got the best of him. Ace knew that Steve Drake had much the same sort of nature, always needing to be on the move and see something new.
The Jensen boys were the same way. The whole sweeping breadth of the frontier was waiting for them—along with all the potential adventures it contained.
Ace was looking forward to getting there.
CHAPTER SEVEN
First, though, was the rest of the trip up the Missouri River. The days passed slowly but peacefully. Taking a riverboat was a leisurely way to travel. At least, the landscape placidly rolling past made it seem that way. In reality, taking a riverboat was faster than either horseback or wagon.
Sioux City and Yankton fell behind the Missouri Belle as the river angled northwest through Dakota Territory. Ace and Chance had been in that part of the country before, although they had never traveled through it by boat.
When they were youngsters, Doc had taken them to Deadwood, over in the Black Hills, during the era when that rude mining camp was turning into a violent, colorful boomtown. Ace had never forgotten seeing Wild Bill Hickok sauntering along the street, the famous prince of pistoleers with his long, flowing hair, his fancy clothes, and his pair of revolvers tucked into the sash around his waist. It was the most impressive sight Ace had ever seen.
Nor had he forgotten hearing about Hickok’s murder at the hands of the c
raven coward Jack McCall in the Number 10 Saloon. Doc had left Deadwood not long after that, taking the boys with him. The lid was about to come off the place, he had said, and he didn’t want them to be there for it.
In the decade since then, Deadwood had tamed down a lot and become a respectable city, or so Ace had heard. He didn’t know for sure since they hadn’t been back since those wild days.
The river curved more to the west at Bismarck. Fort Benton was only a few days away. The Jensen brothers had decided to stay with the riverboat all the way to the end of the line. The Missouri Belle couldn’t go any farther than Fort Benton because not far beyond it were the Great Falls of the Missouri, which blocked navigation except for canoes, which had to be portaged around the falls.
Chance played poker every night in the salon. His luck hadn’t turned on him yet. He won steadily, if not spectacularly, and had accumulated a big enough stake to keep the brothers in supplies for quite some time. They wouldn’t have to worry about finding jobs when they reached Fort Benton. They could afford to just drift for a while, and the prospect sounded mighty appealing to Ace.
Jack Haggarty was in the game every night as well, but he hadn’t had the same good fortune as Chance. He lost, recouped some of his funds, then lost again, repeating that pattern until his money had slowly drained away.
At least, that was according to the complaints he made during the game the last night before the boat reached Fort Benton. “Can’t seem to get a break.” Haggarty threw in his cards after another losing hand. “At least that pot wasn’t too big. I’m getting close to tapped out.”
“That’s a shame.” Chance had won more from Haggarty than from any of the other card players on the boat, although he had done a good job of beating them consistently, too.
Haggarty chuckled. “I’m sure you’re just being polite, since more of my money has wound up in your pockets than anywhere else. Or maybe you think it’s a shame because soon I won’t have anything left for you to win from me.”
Ace was sitting nearby on a chair he had turned around and straddled. He thought for a second that Haggarty was angry, but he was still smiling and didn’t seem put out. He was the unflappable sort of gambler who greeted every turn of the cards the same way, whether it was good or bad for him.
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