"You don't think they would come back here, do you?" Hardy asked.
"How many residents in town now, nearly three-thousand, thirty-five-hundred? Best place in the world to get lost in and not stand out."
"What about the hostage?" District Attorney Hawthorne asked.
"She could be the key," Spur said. "They have her. They have to house and feed her. What do we know about her? She was riding the train alone, evidently. Is she a free spirit or a Sunday School teacher?"
"I've had a wire or two about her in the past," Sheriff Grimm said. "When she was sixteen she ran away from home. It was all kept quiet. My guess is that by now she's a real rebel, not taking kindly to her father's tight reins."
"Sheriff Grimm, could I ask you to wire the gov ernor telling him you've found no trace of his daughter and asking what kind of a search he wants you to launch?" Spur asked. "We might learn something from his reaction and instructions."
The sheriff indicated he would.
"Gentlemen, I have twenty pieces of damaged registered mail that I must hand deliver here in town and try to get releases signed," Hardy said. "Then I have thirty-five more damaged items I must deliver on down the tracks. I'll contact Sheriff Grimm when I get back." He stood, waved at them and walked out of the office.
Sheriff Grimm looked at McCoy. "You didn't say which direction on the road those robbers rode, north or south."
McCoy grinned. "Caught me, Sheriff. I lost the tracks maybe a quarter-of-a-mile outside of town. The robbers and their victim all came back to town the same day the train was robbed."
The sheriff sat up straight in his chair. "So they're in town right now?"
"Maybe, maybe not," Spur said. "They've had two days to catch a train. With the money they have they can travel anywhere in the world and go first class all the way."
Hawthorne heaved his bulk straighter in his chair. "I'd guess they are still here in town. Too hard to travel with a woman. If she's a kidnap victim, how could they get her on a train? She would be screaming and kicking all the way. If she's a kidnap victim they need a base of operations to negotiate from with her father. I'd say they're still in town."
"This local ranch, the Triangle T," Spur said, "how could it fit in? The robbers would steal the ten-thousand in the envelope, but why the signed agreement to sell the place? Doesn't seem natural."
Spur looked at the other two men who shook their heads.
"Could it be that something is going on at the big ranch most people don't know about? What's its reputation? Does it have a clean slate? How does Teasdale get along with his neighbors, with the town people? How far is the ranch from Fort Smith?"
"Don't see where you're going, Mr. McCoy, or how you can connect this up, but I'll give you some of the answers," D.A.Hawthorne said. "Lots goes on at that ranch, not all of it good. As a ranch, it has the reputation as a tough customer; takes care of its own, solves problems on the ranch, sells a lot of steers it drives to stock pens on the railroad from a siding the ranch paid for.
"Old man Teasdale is Dylan, a Welsh name. He's tough as just tanned buffalo hide. He's got two grown daughters, no sons, no wife anymore. Some say he had a small stroke about a year ago, but nobody knows for sure.
"He fights with his closest neighbors, is seldom seen in town anymore, and his two daughters have married and both of them live in separate houses on the ranch while their husbands are supposedly trying to learn the cattle business. His ranch buildings are about eight miles north of town. Edge of his property extends down to within two miles of the Fort Smith city limit."
Spur chuckled. "I'd say you have quite a file on Mr. Teasdale. Thanks for the information. It could be a place to start. He was probably the first one to wire the Post Office Department about his missing contract."
The district attorney moved in his chair again and the wooden structure creaked from his weight. He rubbed one hand across his face and then frowned at Spur.
"What?" Spur asked. "What's the problem? Is Teasdale an untouchable or something around here?"
Hawthorne shrugged and slowly shook his head. "No, not at all. I just think it would be a waste of time to concentrate a lot of work on him."
"I need to start somewhere, you have any other ideas?"
"I'm afraid not," the district attorney said. He lifted himself out of the chair with his massive arms and the move showed Spur that there was a lot of muscle in his arms that didn't show.
Hawthorne held out his hand. "Mr. McCoy, let me know what you uncover. I'll be trying to figure out some way to help, but I only have one investigator in my office and right now he's got three cases he's working."
Spur shook the hand and found the grip firm. "I usually like to work by myself, anyway, Counselor. I'll keep you informed."
When the district attorney left the room, Sheriff Grimm studied Spur. "Looks like you upset Zane."
"He have a special relationship to the great man at the Triangle T spread?"
"Not that I'd known before, but he was irritated for some reason. Usually Zane holds his feelings inside that big body of his."
"Can't be helped. If it bothers him too much, hell probably tell us why. Oh, no need to send a man up north. You were right, the bounders are right here in town. Wish to hell we knew how to find them."
Sheriff Grimm nodded. "Let me know when those serial numbers come in. I'll have my people write out the notices and take them to the store owners. We'll keep it as quiet as we can so we don't tip off the robbers."
Spur thanked the sheriff, shook his hand and went out to the street. He stopped at his hotel and checked with the room clerk. He showed him his identification. The clerk gulped and his eyes went wide for a moment.
"Nothing is wrong, so relax. I'm hunting a party of four that probably came into the hotel two days ago. Three men and a woman. You have any groups like that?"
The clerk lifted his brows. "Oh, boy, you had me going for a minute there. Let me check the register." He turned it sideways so they both could read it and flipped the page over where the previous two days were annotated.
They found two sets of two men each, but they were all salesmen. No cowboys that the clerk remembered.
"Any single women?"
There were three. "Two of them are still here," the clerk said. "Both are in their fifties. The third one is maybe fifteen. She's waiting for her uncle to come pick her up. She's from Boston."
Spur went down the street and talked to two more hotel clerks before he went for supper. None of the three hotels had any groups of four.
Maybe the robbers didn't stay at a hotel. If they had planned this out at all, the ideal way would be for them to have a rented house to use. One could go for groceries and supplies, the rest stay in the house, keep out of sight and most important, keep the woman hidden.
Supper was fair. He decided to try a different eatery the next day. On a sudden impulse he went down to the train station and found the telegrapher still on duty. He showed his identification and then told the man what he was working on.
"So, if you get any telegrams being sent to the governor, I want you to handle them as routine, but keep a copy of the wire for me."
"Can't do that, sir. Against regulations."
"I think you can. Ask your supervisor or the stationmaster. We're trying to solve a railroad problem here. I'm sure he'll say it's all right since this is a criminal investigation."
"All right, I'll ask him, but-"
"I'll check back later to see if there's anything coming either way," Spur said, cutting him off. "Copy any of those messages for me."
He turned and walked out of the telegraph office and toward the hotel. He pondered the strange re action by the district attorney to the talk about the Teasdales. The man would bear watching. Nothing more he could do tonight. He decided on a good night's sleep. Might be a while before he had another one.
Early the next morning, Spur picked up a horse at the livery and asked for directions to the Triangle T spread. It was a little a
fter 9:00 when he rode into the ranch yard. A cowboy from the bunk house met him and asked what he wanted.
A short time later Spur stood outside the kitchen door of the two story ranch house.
"I'd like to talk to Mr. Teasdale," Spur said.
The man who faced him had on range clothes but no hat. He looked as if he'd just finished a late breakfast.
"I'm the foreman here. We don't need no riders."
"Good, I'm not looking for work. I want to talk to Mr. Teasdale about the papers he lost in the train robbery."
A smaller man came out the kitchen door and pushed the foreman aside.
"I'm Teasdale. You find my papers and the money?"
"Not yet, Mr. Teasdale. I'm Spur McCoy with the U.S.Secret Service. I want to talk to you about that robbery."
Teasdale was short and heavy, in his fifties and pale faced like a towner. He wasn't on the range much anymore, Spur figured. He swiped at the remains of dark hair on a balding skull and scowled for a moment, then he waved.
"Come on in out of the hot sun. Reckon I can spare you a few minutes. Why the hell ain't you caught them train robbers yet?"
"Why haven't you caught them? The robbers set up their guns on your property."
Teasdale turned and stared hard at Spur, then he chuckled. "I'll be damned, there is one man left in this country with a little bit of spunk. McCoy, wasn't it? Come on in and we'll have some lemonade and maybe some cookies the galley slave just finished. The secret is to get them before they cool off too much, and still not burn your fingers."
Twenty minutes later in an elaborate den, they had chewed over the President, then Congress, refought the Civil War and agreed that Judge Parker was the best thing that had ever happened to Arkansas and the Indian Territories.
"Now, what about my papers and that tenthousand in cash?"
"Wish I knew, Mr. Teasdale. All we know is there were three men. They hit the express car, blew open the side door, blew the safe, took twenty-thousand in new twenty dollar bills from the safe and the two sacks of registered mail, and then kidnapped the governor's daughter from the passenger car and vanished."
"You look like a tracker. You follow them?"
"I did. Lost their tracks on the North Road when they were trampled out by wagon wheels and horse's hooves."
Teasdale's shoulders slumped. "Holy damn. I was hoping maybe your help would do some good. What the hell can you do now?"
"Keep on digging, hoping and waiting for some kind of a break to give us a lead."
"You know the serial numbers on those bills?"
"I'll know some time today." Spur frowned. "What about that ten-thousand from the ranch buyer? Was it all new money?"
Teasdale downed the last of the lemonade and shook his head. "Don't know, I never saw it. My guess is that it wouldn't be. So, whoever hired these men would be smart enough to use the old money to pay off the three robbers."
Spur looked up, a nervous tremor riding the back of his neck. "You said whoever hired the robbers. You think they were working for somebody else, some third party?"
"Figures. Only two people knew that signed contract and the money was coming from Kansas City in that envelope and mailed that day."
"You and the buyer?"
Teasdale nodded.
"Mr. Teasdale, maybe you're forgetting one other person who knew. Your lawyer, the man who drew up the contract and helped you on the sale of the ranch."
Teasdale looked up sharply. Then the fire in his eyes faded and he shook his head gently. "Oh, well, yes, I guess you're right."
"Is Zane Hawthorne your lawyer?"
Teasdale shrugged, started to speak but stopped. He took a deep breath and let it out. "Yeah. How did you know? Zane is the best lawyer in this end of the state. Just because he's the D.A. ain't no reason he can't have some private clients."
"Even if only three people knew about the tim ing, your goods may not have been the primary object of the robbery."
"Heard there was some other items in those registered mail sacks beside my papers. Something valuable?"
"True. Don't forget the kidnapping. Witnesses told the sheriff that the two robbers went directly to the passenger car, picked out the blonde Miss Hellman and carried her off the train like a sack of wheat."
"Holy damn! Why is everything so complicated these days?"
"I keep trying to simplify them, Mr. Teasdale. Are you sure that your two sons-in-law didn't know about the timing on the contract coming?"
"Hell, no. I don't let them know anything about my business. Both a couple of lazy-assed, nogoods. Only thing they do well is poking my daughters and knocking them up. Two grandchildren already and another one in the oven."
"Would you mind if I talked to them while I'm out here?
"Why not? Can't hurt a damn. Let them see how it feels to have somebody pounding buckets stuck over their heads. Might do them some good. I'll send somebody to bring them over. Both got houses of their own. Houses I paid for, of course.
"Holy damn. Wish to hell them girls of mine had done better in the marrying business."
He called and a young boy about 12 came running in. He gave him the message and the boy scurried out the far door.
"To have that kind of energy again," Teasdale said and slumped in his chair.
They had more iced lemonade and in five minutes the boy was back shaking his head.
"Both Mr. Emerson and Mr. Chandler are gone today."
"Gone where, child?"
"The ladies didn't say, Mr. Teasdale."
"No, they wouldn't. Scat, get out of here."
The boy grinned and hurried out of the den.
Teasdale picked up his empty glass and threw it across the room into the den's fireplace. The glass shattered.
"Holy damn. I kept it a secret, my selling the ranch. Wanted it to be a big surprise for those two sons-in-law. Now everyone will know."
"Will the sale still go through?"
"Hell, not now. I was supposed to wire my acceptance the day I got the cash and the contract and send him a receipt for the ten-thousand. Now I'm sure he'll want his money back and slither out of the deal." He rubbed his face with his hand and let out a sigh. "So, if the robbers weren't trying for my papers and the ten-thousand, what was the prime target?"
"Could have been the Federal greenbacks. They took the mail sacks on the chance something might be there."
"Or how about they blew the express door and the safe as a cover up for their real target, the governor's daughter?"
Spur got into the spirit of it. "Maybe somebody knew about the other valuable things in the reg istered mail sacks and went after those, and the rest of it was all a diversion."
"So, Mr. smart man detective from Washington D.C.What the hell you going to do next?"
"Mr. Teasdale, I wish I knew."
He thanked the rancher, left the house and mounted up. He was halfway back to town when he figured out what he would do next.
As he rode toward town, Spur worked out his next steps. High on his list was to meet and talk to the two sons-in-law of Dylan Teasdale. Since he couldn't do that today, he would look up the railway express man and have a session with him. There was always a chance of some kind of collusion with a "banker" type man that a railway express agent automatically became inside his car.
Spur should be able to tell if the man was hiding anything. Then he'd take it wherever that led. Next, he wanted to see Judge Parker. There was a chance the robbers had come back to town, changed clothes and horses and went across the river into Indian Territory as a sanctuary until things cooled down.
Judge Parker and his people would know the most likely spots nearby where outlaws were offered board and room and protection for a price. This bunch would be able to pay the going rate. He wanted the Judge's help in running a quick sweep of those close-by areas.
It was just past noon when Spur rode back into the livery and left the horse. He found a better restaurant, The Clinton's, and had a satisfying dinner
of a bowl of beef stew and two slices of garlic sprinkled toast. He'd never had toast like that before and decided he liked it. The place was on a side street but had a steady stream of customers. It sported a dozen tables with red checkered oil-cloth covers and small vases filled with dried flowers on each table. His meal cost fifty-five cents with the coffee.
When he left the restaurant, he decided to go to his hotel room and clean up a little after his 16 mile ride out to the ranch and back. In his room, he had just stripped to his waist and begun to wash in the crockery bowl, when he heard the key turn in the door lock.
Spur was halfway to the bed post where his Colt hung, when the door pushed open and a woman stepped into the room carrying a bucket, a mop and a broom. She saw him, smiled, turned and closed the door and locked it.
She left the cleaning materials by the door and walked toward him as she unbuttoned the top of her calico dress.
"Spur McCoy. I've been waiting half the morning for you to come back." She stopped three-feet from him and shrugged out of the top of her dress and let it fall to her waist. She wore nothing under it. Her full breasts swung out with a little sag from their weight.
"See anything that you like?" she asked, smiling.
"A good deal, at least three things," Spur said.
"You don't know me. I got your name from the clerk. I've been watching you. Not much for a girl to do in this town for excitement."
Spur grinned. "There's always the old slap and tickle game between the sheets."
She smiled and rubbed one breast. "Oh, yes, there's that, and then there's fucking, too. I hope you have some spare time."
She walked up to Spur and pushed hard against him from crotch to breast and reached up and kissed his mouth. Her lips lingered, then came away.
"Oh, yes, I think this is going to be fine."
He reached out and fondled her bare breasts. "You don't happen to be married, do you?" he asked.
"I don't happen to be, and I ain't. Not since my old man left me for some chippy. I do need some loving now and again and I ain't had none for nearly six months and my little cunnie is just getting so hot and juicy I can hardly stand it."
Spur Giant: Soiled Dove Page 3