“And a doozy it were too,” Squint chimed in. “Marty and Carson took on Lebo Ledbetter and three of his drunken pals. Wiped him good and proper. Left all four in the dirt outside Jack’s place.”
“You don’t say,” Malcolm exclaimed.
“Yep. I was about to jump in myself, only they didn’t need my help to handle ’em. Anyhow, that’s how the boy got his scrapes.”
“Come on, Carson,” Colleen ordered. “We’ve got to get some beef on that eye before it swells up shut.”
“Aw, I’m all right,” Carson offered.
“Nonsense,” Colleen answered. “Come on and no back talk. Shame on the both of you. Fighting like common riffraff in broad daylight. You both ought to be ashamed.”
“Forgive my daughter,” Malcolm apologized. “She tends to speak her mind.”
“You watch out, Malcolm,” Squint laughed. “She’ll have that boy collared and hog-tied afore he knows it.”
“If so, my sympathies are for him. She’s a handful and that’s a fact.” Malcolm looked at Marty. “The sheriff said you’d be along. Can we talk, Mr. Keller?”
“Sure, I reckon so.”
“Come on in my office. I’ve got a bottle of good stuff there. No need to bake in the sun while we discuss our business.”
“Can I join ya, Malcolm?”
“Squint, when’d you ever pass up a chance for a drink? Sure, come on. That is, if it’s all right with you, Mr. Keller?”
“Certainly. And please, call me Marty. I have a feeling we’re going to be on a first-name basis before this is over anyway.”
Chapter 12
Fateful Proposition
O’Brian led the two men inside the office. Marty could hear Colleen’s muffled voice talking to Carson somewhere close by, perhaps inside the inner office. O’Brian poured Squint and himself a drink of sipping whiskey; Marty took a pass on the alcohol. “I avoid strong spirits for the most part, Mr. O’Brian, but thank you for the offer.”
Marty waited patiently until the other two had savored their drinks. Realizing he could put it off no longer, O’Brian put down his tumbler and, clasping his hands together, faced Marty. “You did a good thing, bringing in Luke Graham like you did. I’d hoped to talk with him, once he was captured, but obviously his cohorts had other plans for him.”
O’Brian twisted his hands together, clearly uncomfortable with what he had to say. “I truly meant to pay the reward for his capture when I had the posters printed, I honestly did. Did the sheriff tell you about my troubles with the outlaw gang Luke Graham belonged to?”
Marty shook his head. “Not really. He mentioned you’d had a run of holdups and such lately, culminating with the robbery and killing of one of your guards.”
O’Brian launched into a detailed report of all that had happened the past few weeks, and the desperate financial straits he was currently saddled with. “So you can see,” he summarized, “I had the reward money, but the last robbery and wrecking of my stage just about wiped me out. I had to buy another stage, and that took the last of my brother-in-law’s loan to the company. I only got that by promising to give young Carson a job.”
Marty nodded in sympathy. “You’ve had a spate of bad luck, no doubt about it. Well, you can’t squeeze blood out of a turnip. I reckon I’ll just write off Luke to doing what’s right and hit the trail. I’ve got to pick up some spending money pretty quick.”
“No, wait.” Malcolm held up a meaty paw. “Don’t go jus’ yet. I want to make you a proposition. I think it has a good chance of making you a lot more money than you’d get bringing Luke back to Carson City. Will you listen?”
“It never hurts to listen, Malcolm.”
“One of the reasons I wanted Squint here was to back up what I’m about to say. Marty, this county is about to have a boom that will make the last look like a piker. There’s so much silver and gold in the Comstock that it’ll make yur jaw drop. I’m in a position to make a million dollars with my freight and stage line when that happens. The only reason it ain’t started yet is that the man I’m sort of aligned with, a fellow named George Hearst, has his two most profitable mines closed down. One caused by a fire of a very suspicious nature and the other flooded when a drift crossed into an underground river. Once he gets back into production, I’ll start makin’ plenty of money from his contracts.”
“I got to agree, Marty,” Squint chimed in. “Once George Hearst gits to producin’ agin, Malcolm will be ten times as busy as he is now.”
Carson and Colleen burst into the room, Carson holding a small slab of red meat against his bruised eye. “Papa, I’m gonna show Carson his room, okay?” Colleen said.
“Sure, honey, go ahead.”
Carson looked at Marty, his eyes beseeching. “You’ll be here when I get back, won’t you, Marty?”
“I reckon so, Carson.”
The young man gave a happy grin and followed Colleen out of the office. Malcolm watched the two depart, a wistful expression on his face. Then he returned his gaze toward Marty. “Where was I? Oh yeah. Anyways, Hearst and another big mine owner by the name of Ransom Stoddard are in a power struggle for control of the Comstock. Stoddard has bought up the only other freighting company, over to Reno. He won’t give any business to Hearst, claims he has to use all the equipment to haul for himself. Stoddard is probably behind my troubles, but there’s no proof.”
O’Brian had to pace the floor he was so agitated. “Hearst has convinced most of the other mine owners to use my freight wagons, but I gotta deliver or they’ll move to Stoddard’s company, as much as they would prefer not to. The key will be some large water pumps Hearst has ordered from back East. They’ll clean out the flooded mine no problem. The thing is, I gotta deliver ’em from Reno at the railhead to Virginia City to the mine. The Comstock and the Little Bill are, according to Hearst, close to hitting the mother lode of silver. He’s certain that he’ll hit the jackpot within days of getting his mines in production again. Until then, he’s as strapped for cash as I am, so I can’t count on him for extra funds.”
“All right, Malcolm. Now, how does all this affect me?”
“Believe me, Marty. I’m gonna make a million dollars once things shake out, if I can just stay in business. I’d like for you to come to work for me, as my security head, so to speak. I’ll give you five percent of my business if you’ll do it. If you can get this wave of violence against me stopped, you’ll end up much better off than any reward you might get huntin’ some other wanted outlaw.”
“Malcolm, I can’t take your offer, although I thank you for it. It’s way too much. You can hire a dozen guns for a lot less.”
“Yes, but they’d want pay as we go, and I can’t do that. You’ll be riskin’ yur life and takin’ yur pay on a promise. I just maybe can give you enough cash to stay in beans and a cot at the hotel, nothing more. As for it bein’ too much, I’d rather have ninety-five percent of somethin’ good as opposed to a hunnerd percent of nothin’. Which is what I’ll have iffen we can’t get this thing cleared up so I can service the mines in Virginia City.”
Marty dropped his gaze to his thumb, worrying a hangnail that was breaking off at the cuticle. “I don’t know, Malcolm. I need to think about this some.”
“I understand. Take your time. It’s a big risk. Just know that I’ll back you up to the best of my ability.”
“Me too,” Squint chimed in. “I owe them rats some payback.”
“Marty,” Malcolm cautioned, “don’t kid yourself—you’ll mostly be on your own. Me and Squint together wouldn’t make half a gun hand.”
“I understand. You’d be surprised what good men can do once they put their mind to it. It’s just not what I do. Like I say, let me think on it some.”
“Good enough. Why don’t you let me know tomorrow? Meanwhile, I got to get the stage ready to head out to Sacramento, so if you’ll excuse me.”
“Of course. I’ll stop by tomorrow and let you know my decision.”
Marty returned to
his hotel, and lingered over a cup of coffee before leisurely walking over to the livery stable and checking on Pacer. Satisfied, Marty stopped by several places where he thought he could get an accurate appraisal of Malcolm O’Brian’s character, business prospects, and honesty. The responses were all positive and laudatory. It appeared O’Brian was a good person and a respected businessman.
Marty passed the day in these labors and as darkness slipped across the western slopes, walked to the Bluebird Café to eat his supper. As he ordered from a harried waiter, Carson Block entered the café and moved to Marty’s table.
“May I join you, Marty?”
“Certainly, Carson. You all settled in?”
“Yes. They put me in a small cabin next to the stage barn. It’s quite comfortable, if a little primitive. Come on by after supper and have a look.”
“Thanks. You ready to order?”
“You bet. I could eat a horse.”
“Better watch out what you wish for, Carson. It may come true.”
They savored the meal, talking about Boston, the West, and Colleen O’Brian. They finished their coffee, walked out of the café, and slowly strolled to the O’Brians’ stage barn, relishing the coolness of the evening. As they passed Jack’s Bar, where they had had their encounter with Lebo Ledbetter earlier, a man burst out of the batwing doors and blocked their path. He was scruffy looking and his clothing was badly soiled. Judging from the smell, he could also have used a long bath. He glared at the two men with smoldering dark eyes and snarled a warning, “You two. You two kilt a friend of mine, Luke Graham. If you know what’s good fer ya, you’ll be out of town before sunset tomorrow, else I’m gonna call ya out and fill yur rotten hide full of holes.”
The man lurched back inside the bar, leaving Marty and Carson shocked by the sudden, deadly warning. “Well,” Carson blurted out, “what was that all about?”
“I think you’ve been tarred with the same brush that was meant for me. You certainly didn’t have anything to do with Luke Graham. I’m sorry, Carson. Maybe you’d better distance yourself from me a little. At least until we know if that fella is all bluff or if he means what he says.”
“Not a chance, Marty. I’m proud to call you my friend and I am not about to run from some drunken scalawag.”
Marty nodded, but he was not so convinced Carson was ready to be involved in a possible shoot-out with a hardened gunman, which the unknown man probably was. “Let’s get on with our business, Carson. No need to let the drunken rants of someone neither of us ever met ruin our plans. You were gonna show me your new home.”
“Well, come on, let’s get it done, then.” Carson picked up the pace and led Marty to his new living quarters.
The little one-room cabin was attached to the rear wall of the stage barn, a cavernous building where O’Brian stored his stagecoaches and freight wagons, and where they were maintained. Inside, it was cozy, with cedar paneling on the walls, a small bed in the corner of the only room. There was an iron Franklin-style stove in one corner, and a horsehair couch and an overstuffed chair facing the stove. A small side table and armoire were the only other items of furniture in the room.
“A fine place, Carson,” Marty complimented. “You’ll be right comfortable here.”
Carson beamed. It was important to him that he had Marty’s approval. “Thanks, Marty. I think so too. Malcolm says I’ll be working with the mules and horses for a while. I told him I wanted to try driving eventually. If you go to work for him as security chief, I wanna work with you. Do you think I can?”
“Carson, if I do this thing for your uncle, it’s gonna be damned dangerous. These outlaws have shown they have no compunction agaist killing in order to get what they want. You’ve got a long life ahead of you. You don’t want to bleed it out on some dusty road in the next few weeks.”
“Aw, I don’t worry about that.”
“Yes, that’s why I’m doing it for you. I will promise you, if I decide to stay, I’ll work with you to make you proficient with your pistol and rifle, so you can hold your own. When I see that you’re ready, I’ll consider using you as my partner.”
“Thanks, Marty. I’ll look forward to it.”
Colleen dropped the curtain covering the window in the front room of the apartment over the office. “That Marty Keller person is in the little house with Carson. Dad, are you certain you want somebody like that as a part owner of our company? I mean, after all, he’s just a common fast-gun killer.”
“Colleen, honey, I’m pretty certain that Keller is anything but common. Don’t forget, according to Sheriff Schrader, he was once a Texas Ranger. And he’s damned good with his gun. Outlaws shake when his name is mentioned.”
“Since when do you put any stock in anything Sheriff Schrader has to say?”
“Keller is the sort of thing Schrader would know about. It’s his business. I like what I saw of him, honey. If he gets himself killed, God forbid, he will have done it for money and I won’t have any guilt, or maybe just a little. Better him than someone we know and really care for.”
“Well, there is that, I suppose. I’m going to keep my eyes on him, I promise you.”
“I thought you had them all filled up with Carson. It certainly looked that way this afternoon.”
“Oh, Dad. You’re so silly sometimes.”
“We’ll see, daughter. We’ll see.”
Marty finally got away from Carson without hurting the young man’s feelings. He was anxious to get back to Jack’s Bar and make inquiries. He wanted to see what the man who had threatened them was all about. At this time in his career as a bounty hunter, he never discounted a threat against his life. His mission was to survive until he found the two men who still had to pay for his family’s death.
Marty entered the smoky interior of the saloon, quickly scanning the room for his antagonist. The place was jammed with customers, but Marty did not see the man in question. He moved to the bar and waited until the bartender, a brawny man with a bulbous nose and fleshy lips, moved in front of him.
“What’s yur pleasure, buddy?” the barkeeper asked with a deep bass voice.
“A fellow was just in here. Dark hair, dark eyes, needed a shave. Short, wearing a black shirt and a white kerchief. You remember seeing him?”
“I might have,” the bartender replied, his eyes passing over Marty to the rest of the room. “I think I know who you mean. I don’t see ’im now, though.”
“What was his name?”
“Let me think.” The bartender scratched at his lip. “What was his name?”
Marty passed a five-dollar gold piece across the scarred bar, which the bartender quickly made disappear.
“Oh yeah. Brazos Dreesen, is his name. A shiftless no-account, comes in from time to time. I think he works on a ranch somewhere around Virginia City.” The barkeep wiped the place in front of Marty. “Need a beer? Otherwise I gotta serve my other customers.”
“Yeah, bring me one. Where might I find this Dreesen fella?”
“I can’t help ya there. Like I say, he only stops by from time to time.”
“Well, if he comes in again tonight or tomorrow, tell him I’m here and staying here. Tell him to think about what he’s threatening, and if he pushes me too much, I’ll kill him deader than a skunk caught in a buffalo stampede.” Marty looked around the room but saw no sign of Lebo Ledbetter. “Does Dreesen hang out with Lebo Ledbetter?”
“Yeah, I see them in here together, now and then.”
“Well, give ’em both the same message.” And with that, Marty finished his beer, slapped on his hat, and stalked out of the bar.
Chapter 13
Night Fight
Vern Barton and Charlie Call rode their horses into Reno shortly after ten in the morning. As soon as Charlie told Vern that they had finished the assignment, Vern began to worry that Luke might have mentioned his name before his death. The outlaw leader felt that he needed to know exactly what was being said about the death of Luke Graham and if t
here was any connection to him or his ranch. He did not trust the secondhand information he usually heard from his informants.
Their first stop was Sheriff Schrader’s office, where Vern claimed that Luke had once worked for him, leaving many months earlier, and he was just curious about what had happened. Schrader had no reason not to believe Vern and thus told the ranch owner and outlaw what he knew, which was very little other than that Luke had been killed by unknown assailants while being delivered to jail by a bounty hunter.
“Any chance this bounty hunter kilt poor ole Luke or the other person?” Vern inquired.
“I doubt it, Mr. Barton. If he had done it, why’d he try so hard to git the other one, a wanted killer named McNeal, into the doc’s before the fella died?”
“Well, you know these bounty hunters. They got no respect for human life. Money’s their only thing.”
“You may be right, but I don’t think Keller’s the one. Hell, Malcolm O’Brian tells me he’s tryin’ to hire Keller to be his security chief to stop them spate of robberies agin his stages and freight wagons.”
“Ya don’t say. Sort of a new twist to things, ain’t it?”
“Well, I suppose Malcolm’s gittin’ a mite desperate. He’s just about on the ropes, there’s been so much robbin’ and such agin him lately.”
“Um, too bad. Well, Sheriff, I suppose I’d better get on with my business, I wanna get back to the ranch afore dark.”
The two men left the office and walked away toward Jack’s Bar, both silent, each engaged with his own private thoughts. Sheriff Schrader thought to himself, That Charlie Call is a cold one. Never says nothin’, never smiles. Makes a man right uncomfortable to be around him. I wonder if he’s wanted by the law somewhere.
Vern and Charlie turned into the saloon, where they encountered Lebo Ledbetter, Brazos, and Luke’s cousin Red Mike. The three men were seated around a green felt-covered gaming table, their heads together, engaged in intense conversation. Their eyes widened in surprise when they saw Barton and Call walking toward them.
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