by J. T. Edson
After watching the remarkable sight of a armed preacher swing away out of sight between two buildings, Mark turned once more to try and see Eleonore. He saw nothing of her, only the two new arrivals, clearly saloon girls in town to start working, headed along the sidewalk away from him. With the departure of the girls, the crowd broke up and went about their business, but still with no sign of Eleonore. Mark headed for the office, meaning to ask if the girl had left for he thought Brown and his pard might have seen her and taken a chance to grab her for return to Culver Creek.
Just as he reached the door of the office, Mark saw Eleonore come around the corner in a furtive manner, peering towards him first, then back to the chattering, laughing saloon girls, and their escort who passed along behind her.
“Whew!” gasped Eleonore, coming to Mark. “That was a close one.”
“How do you mean?”
“First I come out of the office and almost walk into the Parson, I turn, take cover until I think he has gone away. Then come out and almost run into Ginger Lil. So I have to get back out of sight again quickly.”
“They know you, huh?”
“Sure they know me. I caught the Parson trying to doctor a deck in a poker game and he was bounced around a little by the house muscle. So he sent his girl friend, Ginger Lil, after me and we tangled. My Mark, I don’t think she has forgotten Madam Moustache yet, although her injuries have healed.”
“Say, that Parson hombre wouldn’t stand about five foot nine, have a thin, sharp face that looks like he’s been drinking alkaline water for the first time?” asked Mark.
“He does.”
“And he’s real friendly with the red headed gal?”
“I did hear they quarreled and split up,” Eleonore answered. “He left her behind while she was recovering from the fight I had with her.”
“That figgers. He took off like the devil after a yearling when he saw her come off the stage. You’d best tell me some about the Parson.”
“I don’t know too much. He travels the circuit working various confidence tricks, posing as a parson most of the time. I don’t know why he is here.”
Apart from deciding to warn Abbott of the man’s presence in town Mark did nothing about the Parson. He took Eleonore back to the Humboldt house and left her while he went to make his preparations for the evening dinner and social gathering.
Later that evening the town and county’s most influential people gathered at Humboldt’s to be introduced to the guests of honor, Mark Counter and Lady Alice. It gave Mark much innocent amusement to watch the way Alice carried herself amongst the guests and he knew none of them doubted her or imagined her to be other than Lady Alice Hatton-Green. Much to Mark’s surprise, Eleonore made her appearance clad in the best maid’s dress, with a neat starched white hat and apron, tripping around the room, helping out Humboldt’s over-worked staff and never putting a foot wrong, although her French-English accent did sound just a little too broad.
Mark saw that Gavin Stout paid a lot of attention to the girl when she made her first appearance, then seemed to decide she was harmless and joined the group of men who surrounded Lady Alice.
“Would you care for ze ponch, m’sieur?” asked Eleonore, carrying a small tray to where Mark stood by the door. She dropped her voice and a merry twinkle came to her eyes. “Old Ma Humboldt doesn’t cotton to her future son-in-law getting friendly with Alice.”
Mark glanced across the room to where Mrs. Humboldt entertained some of her friends. The woman kept throwing looks to where Alice held court and her fan flicked in angry jerks as she watched Stout laughing at something Alice said. To one side of the room Iris also stood watching, pouting a little as she saw her fiancé behaving in a manner he never used when in her presence.
Taking a glass of punch from Eleonore’s tray, Mark strolled across the room to where he saw Abbott entering the room. He meant to warn the marshal about the mysterious gentleman known as the Parson. Before he reached Abbott, Mark caught a snatch of conversation between Humboldt and the local preacher as they sat at the edge of the room.
“He’s a splendid fellow,” the preacher remarked, carrying on with something started before Mark came within hearing distance. “Staying with us. We couldn’t allow a brother of the cloth to put up at the hotel.”
“You should have brought him along with you,” Humboldt replied.
“I thought of it. But he came from taking a stroll just before we came here and said he had a headache. He retired to his room to rest.”
“You could go around later and see if he feels up to making an appearance. Ah, Mark—you haven’t met the Reverend Pooley yet, have you?”
So, what with being introduced to Pooley, then various other people, Mark did not get a chance to speak with the marshal. They were headed towards him when the butler came to Abbott’s side, whispered in his ear and nodded to the door. Finishing his glass of punch, Abbott turned and left the room and the butler came to Humboldt.
“Mr. Abbott sends his apologies, sir,” he said. “He has been called away to investigate a murder.”
“M—murder?” Humboldt gulped. “Who was killed?”
“I couldn’t say, sir,” answered the butler and faded away.
Before Humboldt could say any more on the subject, he found the local preacher at his side and pointing to the door. Mark glanced in the direction of the door and saw the man Eleonore called the Parson walking towards Humboldt.
“Oh, oh!” said a voice at his elbow and he turned to find Eleonore at his side, holding a tray of drinks and looking towards the Parson. “If he recognizes me, he—”
“He can’t expose you without giving himself away,” Mark replied calmly. “But he’d best not see you. Go tell Alice you feel sick and want to get some air. I reckon she’ll know.”
Curtsying as if she had been offering Mark a drink, Eleonore turned and went to where Alice sat amongst a gathering of men. It took Alice one quick glance to know something was wrong and she came forward, passing through the men as if they did not exist.
“What is it, Fifi?” she asked.
To give her credit, Eleonore presented a masterly display of a woman about to be overcome by what polite folks termed the vapors. Instantly Alice expressed her concern, took the girl’s tray and placed it on a small table, then escorted Eleonore from the room. Mrs. Humboldt saw this and followed, to come back and explain to the others how Lady Alice’s maid had taken ill and the lady insisted on seeing her safely to her room. The incident did a lot of good for Alice’s prestige and, on seeing this, Mrs. Humboldt’s suspicions dulled, even though her future son-in-law appeared to be showing a great deal of interest in the beautiful English woman.
The gathering broke up fairly early, for the wedding would be held at eleven o’clock the following morning and Mrs. Humboldt wished to have her guests arrive on time, not to roll up at all hours, bleary eyed from a night’s revelry.
Mark sat on his bed, removing his town shoes and wondering why men wore such things by choice. He heard the knock on his door and wondered who might be coming to see him, for he had been one of the last to retire, having been talking with Humboldt and a couple of local ranchers until the rest of the guests departed.
He rose, crossed the room and opened the door. Alice and Eleonore, both wearing their housecoats, entered quickly. He closed the door behind them and looked each girl up and down for a moment. “No life stories tonight, gals,” he grinned. “This’s more serious than that,” Alice replied. “Alice’s right,” agreed Eleonore. “Mark, Ginger Lil has been killed.”
“Where? “Mark asked.
“It was she they fetched the marshal to see,” Alice replied. “They found her in a livery barn, a knife in her back.”
None of them spoke for a time, all busy with their own thoughts. Then Eleonore snapped her fingers.
“I have it. I remember where I saw Gavin Stout before!”
“Where?” Alice asked.
“In Newton. He married a
rich storekeeper’s daughter. They went on their honeymoon and he left her in Kansas City, but he did not leave the dowry, nor the jewelry she brought on her honeymoon. I remember just now. I also remember, he had dark hair and a moustache then. Of course, I look different also, so he does not remember me.”
“Are you sure of this?” Mark asked.
“Very sure,” replied Eleonore. “All the time since I first saw him I have been thinking, where did I last see this man, I studied him as I take the drink tray and at last I remember.”
“If you’re right—” began Mark.
“I am.”
“That means the dear little Iris will have a rather short married life,” Alice put in. “I wouldn’t wish that even on her.”
“There’s one thing I don’t get though,” drawled Mark. “Why didn’t the law get after him?”
“I don’t know,” Eleonore replied. “The storekeeper sold up in Newton and left soon after. What can we do, Mark?”
“Could try telling the Humboldts.”
“And have Mrs. Humboldt suspect a trick to grab Gavin from her darling child,” Alice put in. “She has been watching me most suspiciously all night. I thought he did it a bit brown myself, the way he hung around. Possibly he is thinking that Lady Alice Hatton-Green might be a better catch than little Miss Humboldt.”
“Or his next catch after he gets rid of little Iris,” Eleonore suggested. “We must do something, though. Do you think the Parson is connected with Stout?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Mark answered. “I’ll drop a word in George Abbott’s lil ear comes morning. I reckon the Parson might know something about that gal though. There’s nothing we can do, except sleep on it.” Eleonore rose from where she had been sitting in a comfortable chair. “I can take a hint,” she said.
“Coming, Lady Alice?”
“Er, in a few minutes,” Alice replied. “I’ve a few theories I want to discuss with Mark. No, you needn’t stay, I can manage.” On entering their room, Eleonore laughed, removed the housecoat, put out the light and climbed into the comfortable bed, ignoring the mattress on the floor.
Knowing what deep thinkers Mark and Alice were, she doubted if she would be disturbed until early morning.
“I trust you slept well, Lady Alice,” said Mrs. Humboldt as she entered the dining-room and found Alice and Mark just finishing their breakfasts.
“Very well, thank you,” Alice replied, neither blushing nor even glancing at Mark, for she knew the woman meant nothing more than polite conversation.
Before any more could be said, the butler entered and came straight to Mrs. Humboldt, followed by the Parson, whose face bore a look of sorrow.
“I’m afraid I have bad news for you, my dear Mrs. Humboldt,” he said. “The Reverend Pooley has taken ill during the night. Nothing serious, but sufficient to keep him in bed all day. I thought I should bring you word of it so as to give you time to make other arrangements.”
Mrs. Humboldt’s face showed horror. “But—but, he can’t be ill. The wedding is this morning and there isn’t another preacher within—but you are a man of the church. Would you take the wedding ceremony?”
She turned her eyes to the Parson, who appeared to have been on the verge of leaving. He halted and faced her once more and held out a hand.
“If you wish, dear lady. I will attempt in my humble way to fill the Reverend Pooley’s shoes.”
Even as she opened her mouth to speak, Alice felt Mark’s foot come down on her toe. She closed her mouth quickly, with a barely concealed wince, watching his face and seeing the almost imperceptible shake of his head. She did not know what to make of this development and aimed to learn about it quickly.
“Excuse me, please,” she said. “Are you coming, Mark?”
Her tone meant, “Either come and explain or I spill all I know and chance the consequences.”
Mark rose, nodded to the Parson and followed Alice from the dining-room and up to enter her room. Eleonore still lay in the bed and she grinned, then lost her grin and sat up.
“What is it? “she asked.
After Mark told her of the latest development Eleonore snapped, “Why didn’t you speak?”
“Because it’s your word against his,” Mark replied. “And happen he spooks and runs from here he’s left free to pull the same game in some other place. Even if Stout gets lost in the deal he can easy find another good looking feller to take on. Then some more innocent gals’ll suffer.”
“But he killed Ginger Lil!”
Mark studied the dark-haired girl for a moment. “You see him do it?”
“Of course I didn’t.”
“Then you can’t prove that either. Sure it looks likely he did. He knew her and happen she recognized him she might want paying too much to keep her mouth shut. Or she might be after his scalp for running out on her and wouldn’t take pay. So he quietened her. But we can’t prove it.”
All this time Alice had been pacing up and down the room. She came to a halt and faced the other two.
“I’ve an idea that might work.”
She told her idea and the other two exchanged glances. It looked like a real risky game, but happen it worked would save Iris from a terrible mistake. Mark gave his approval of it and Eleonore shrugged, then agreed to take her part.
“Get to it, gals,” Mark drawled. “I’ve just time to see George Abbott before the marrying starts.”
Mark learned little from Abbott. The old marshal knew his business, but admitted frankly to being puzzled. From Ginger Lil’s blonde friend he learned that the girl came to Holbrock looking for work and the blonde travelled along, being tired of her last place. Lil never mentioned knowing anybody in Holbrock and the girl could think of nobody in their last town who might have hated Lil enough to kill her. They left their rooming house to walk to the saloon just as it grew dark but halfway to the Long Glass Lil said she had forgotten her bag and would go to collect it. The blonde went on to start work and had been in the Long Glass in full view of the customers all night, also a couple of loafers had seen the girls part, so Lil had been alive when the blonde last saw her, which let the blonde out as a suspect.
“Why all the interest, Mark?” asked Abbott.
“Let’s just say I’m curious.”
“Yeah? Waal, was you a mite smaller I’d say let’s just say you’re lying.”
“All right then. Set fast and listen,” drawled Mark.
On hearing Mark’s story Abbott’s first inclination was to rush out and arrest both Stout and the Parson. However, it took him a bare ten seconds to see how little chance he would having of making any charge stick, so he settled down to hear the plan Mark, Alice and Eleonore formed. At the end he gave a low grunt which might have meant anything and agreed to let Mark play the game his way.
Mrs. Humboldt had worries. Never a good organizer, she managed to get herself in quite a state before the ceremony. She wanted to see to the seating of the guests and also wished to help her daughter dress. So she felt relieved when Alice came with the offer of helping Iris to get ready, allowing Mrs. Humboldt freedom to attend to her other affairs.
After Mrs. Humboldt left the room Eleonore closed and locked the door, an action which went unnoticed by Iris who had worked herself into a state of near panic waiting for someone to help her dress. Alice eased the girl into a chair and looked down at her.
“We want to tell you something first,” she said.
Quietly and without showing any emotion. Alice told of Gavin Stout’s previous marriage, of the fake preacher who would officiate at this wedding. When she finished she saw at a glance that she could have saved her time and put the other idea into practice, for Iris made the reply she expected.
“I don’t believe a word of it. I saw you making up to Gavin last night. You want him for yourself.”
“My dear girl,” Alice replied. “I assure you I’ve no interest in Gavin Stout other than preventing him from hurting you.”
“It’s a lie!” Iris
gasped. “It’s all lies. Papa got in touch with Gavin’s bankers in Hartford and they told us about him.”
“And who told you how to find Gavin’s bankers?” Eleonore asked.
“Gavin did. He had nothing to hide,” answered the girl, her voice rising higher. “Now get out of my house. I’ll tell—”
She thrust herself to her feet, shoving between the two women. Eleonore gave a shrug, caught her by the arm and turned her.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” sniffed Mrs. Humboldt, watching the white clad shape come along the aisle on her husband’s arm.
The guests all looked. Mark Counter, on the front row, watched everything and wondered which of their plans had been put in operation. He studied the veiled face for a moment, but could see nothing of the features below that which might help him know. Alice had appeared shortly before the notes of the Wedding March rose from the harmonium at the side of the room. She nodded to Mark as she took her seat, but could say nothing.
Looking severe and very holy, the Parson conducted the ceremony. He must have learned his subject well, for he made no mistakes through the entire business of marrying Gavin Stout to the veiled girl. At last the ring slipped on to a plump finger and the Parson said:
“You may now kiss the bride.”
With a well simulated self-conscious smile Stout lifted the veil as the girl turned towards him. He gave a sudden horrified gasp and staggered back, his face suddenly ashy and ugly. The watching guests let out a cross between a gasp, cry and moan. Mrs. Humboldt screeched, half rose from her chair and then collapsed in a faint.
“Hello, Parson,” said the bridal-clad Eleonore calmly. “Remember me?”
With a snarled out curse the Parson took a hurried pace back, staring at the white clad figure before him. Then his hand shot under his coat towards the butt of the five shot Colt House Pistol hidden beneath it.
“Hold it!”
Mark Counter had come to his feet as the veil raised, guessing what must be happening, that Eleonore, not Iris, stood before the Parson. His well tailored cutaway jacket would have shown a bulge if he tried to carry one or both of his big Army Colts, but a Remington Double Derringer took up little room and could easily lie concealed without attracting attention.