The Great West Detective Agency

by Jackson Lowry

  “. . . this is the best time,” Dunbar said.

  “Jubal, please, we are a state now. What you suggest is nothing less than treason. Do you think generals like Sheridan and Sherman would allow us to secede?”

  “They are always on the lookout to go back to war,” chimed in another man. “They would relish the chance to put down a rebellion.”

  “All the more reason for us to act swiftly,” Dunbar said. “The longer Colorado remains a state, the better organized the Federals will be. We must strike quickly, pry their grasping fingers from our throats, and form our new country!”

  “It takes more than a handful of men to overthrow a government, even one that hasn’t been in power more than a few months. You forget that Routt was territorial governor before becoming state governor. There is no chance of a crack in his power, no miscue in the handoff from territory to state. His staff remains as loyal now as before.”

  “John Routt is a dedicated man but he lacks ambition and vision,” Dunbar said.

  “And you have both.”

  Lucas wasn’t able to tell if that response was sardonic or supportive.

  “We have the army necessary to seize key forts. We take Routt captive. Then we present Washington with a reality they cannot fight. I have the promise of recognition of two foreign governments.”

  “Two? Which?”

  “Russia and Nicaragua,” he said without hesitation.

  Lucas pulled away to rub circulation back into his ear. He hadn’t realized how hard he’d pressed against the wineglass to hear. Vera Zasulich had promised recognition of Dunbar’s break-off country, and from the sound of it, Dennis Clifford had made a similar promise.

  How much gold was there to finance not only Vera’s and Clifford’s but also Dunbar’s revolts?

  He put the glass to the wall once more. He’d pressed so hard it had cut a ring in the plaster. Lucas moved to a different spot but heard only indistinct sounds of chairs and gruff voices still arguing the merit of Dunbar’s revolt. As he drew back, he felt a draft of air across his neck.

  The door had opened.

  He was caught!

  17

  Lucas sucked in his breath and lifted the empty wineglass to his lips as if draining the dregs. He took a staggering step and caught himself on a chair so his fingers curled around the back. If he heaved hard enough, he could bowl over the man in the doorway using the chair as a battering ram.

  “Sorry, old chap, didn’t know the room was occupied.”

  The man wore a brilliant red British Army uniform festooned with decorations that clanked as he moved and reflected golden light off the medals. Behind him a plain-looking woman with mussed blond hair and a flushed face wobbled about, as drunk as Lucas had pretended to be. These two sought a room for an assignation.

  “Quite all right, G-General. Was j-just l-leaving.” Lucas kept up the charade of being soused. He bowed deeply to the woman and said, “Do enjoy yourself, madame. It looks to be a fine night for a British invasion of hitherto unoccupied territory.”

  “What’s he mean by that, Georgie?”

  “Nothing, my dear, nothing. Let’s find some of that wine he was imbibing.”

  Lucas closed the door as he left and heaved a sigh. He hadn’t seen any wine in the room. While they might think he had already drunk it all, he worried more that the British officer would come hunting for an adequate amount to complete the woman’s inebriation and his conquest. He had to be long gone when that happened. Answering questions would only put him in peril of being discovered by the men assigned to keep his like from this dance.

  He reached the head of the stairs and glanced down, checking to be certain Dunbar and his coconspirators in rebellion had melted back into the crowd. Lucas froze when he saw two well-dressed men at the foot of the stairs. The bully boys who had dumped him in the canal both looked up and spotted him at the same time. He had to admire their coordination. Without a word passing between them, the pair hit the stairs and took them three at a time in perfect step like an infantry company passing in review, racing to reach him.

  If it had been any other guards, he might have talked his way out by claiming to be with Hannah. These two recognized him for who he was. He sprinted down the hall, considering enlisting the colonel’s help. The quick passage past the door told him how unlikely that was since the officer was no longer in uniform and undoubtedly pressing his advantage to advance. With a sudden turn, he found a branching corridor lined with more private rooms. Lucas dashed past the first, opening the door a fraction before going to the next and ducking inside. The two chasing him would hesitate seeing the open door and have to search that room. It bought him precious seconds.

  He hunted for a place to hide, then saw this room opened onto a balcony overlooking the dance floor. The band was almost immediately below him. Looking down he saw the tops of their heads and how they played their instruments with both gusto and expertise. Even with the sounds of classical music rising, he heard the bulls in the china shop next door. Dunbar’s men made no effort at finesse.

  It was only a matter of seconds before they entered.

  Lucas hopped onto the railing, balanced for a moment, then turned and fell. His fingers caught the bottom of the railing, letting him dangle for a moment. With a powerful kick, he sent himself sailing out and onto the dance floor, where he crashed and lay flat on his back for a moment, stunned.

  “Lucas?”

  He looked up to see Amanda standing over him, her dance partner confused.

  “Why, yes, thank you, I would love this dance.” He got to his feet, bowed slightly to her spurned partner, and whirled away. The empty circle around them collapsed and once more the dancers waltzed. Such interruptions, while unusual, were to be expected when too much of the fine wine was consumed.

  “You certainly know how to make an entrance.”

  He pulled her closer. Her body fit nicely against his. She leaned back as they whirled around. He guided her toward the far side of the floor, then held her as a shield between the men on the balcony looking down and his own all too obvious fancy coat. He stood out amid the men in their black like a ladybug on a daisy.

  “For you, my dear, walking on air is only the beginning.”

  “You can be quite a charmer.”

  “Where’s Tovarich?”

  “And also irritatingly blunt.” Amanda pressed her face to his chest to keep her expression from being seen. He took this to mean whatever she said would be a lie. “I don’t know.”

  “Where did you and the dog go after you got away from the rat pit?”

  “Must we speak of such ugly things? This is a fancy dress ball.” She reared back and looked at his clothing. “However did you get inside wearing such rags?”

  “Who’s being irritatingly blunt now? I lack a patron such as the one you have corralled.”

  “Patron? You cannot mean Jubal. He isn’t a patron, he’s more of my prison warden. When I left that terrible place with Tovarich, we ran away, but Jubal’s men—the ones you are so intent on fleeing and who have finally gone in search of you elsewhere—caught me. Tovarich ran off before I could catch him.”

  Lucas spun about and saw she was right about Dunbar’s men; they had disappeared. He knew that even if they searched the entire second floor of the building, they would be back downstairs in a few minutes. He couldn’t dance all night to avoid them. His feet would give out before then, even if they weren’t intent on frog marching him outside.

  “How did you come by the dog?”

  “Oh, Lucas, that’s such a boring story. I fell in love with the little mutt the instant I laid eyes on him. He was being abused. I had to take care of him.” She looked up and batted her long lashes. “I would certainly enjoy taking care of you tonight.”

  “I’m not sure I would enjoy that.”

  She tried to jerk free
, but he held her securely. Amanda gave up and once more molded her body to his as they moved to the music.

  “I know things that would definitely give you memories of the night for the rest of your life.”

  “Why did Dunbar bring you here tonight? People will gossip. You’re not his wife.”

  “Well, sir, I am not his mistress.” She tensed again. He pulled her closer. Both of Dunbar’s bodyguards had returned to the first floor and studied every couple passing them. Whatever he did had to be quick. The last strains of the music were fading and the dance was over. He and Amanda would be left alone on the floor since the conductor was signaling his orchestra to take a break.

  “Come with me. We can get away from Dunbar.”

  Her reaction confused him. She didn’t tense as she had before, showing how she considered his offer. But Amanda didn’t make a move to leave, either. Staring up at him, her bright blue eyes questioning, she shook her head.

  “I can’t. Not the way you mean.”

  Lucas had no time to argue. Both bodyguards were crossing the increasingly depopulated dance floor, intent on him. He judged distances, then whirled Amanda about and sent her staggering into the men’s arms.

  “I don’t mind if you cut in,” he said.

  As the two tried to keep Amanda from falling, and he thought she flailed about far more than necessary to give him the time he needed, Lucas headed for the far side of the ballroom, away from the front doors where four men moved in to see what was causing the disturbance.

  “Hannah,” he said, passing by the gangly girl. “Have a good evening.”

  “Why, uh, yes, thank you, Mr.—”

  He left her with a youngster who glared at even this minor intrusion. He ducked behind a pillar, considered his escape route, then dropped to hands and knees and slid under a table, pulling down the tablecloth as he sat, hand on his Colt, waiting to see if Dunbar’s men ferreted him out. He saw feet going back and forth, and the four he took to be those of the guards stopped within reach. Lucas barely breathed as they shifted about, obviously scanning the room and not finding him. When they walked away, he chanced a quick look under the edge of the cloth.

  The men fell in behind Dunbar and Amanda as they left in a rush.

  Lucas sat under the table considering all that he could do next. Amanda befuddled him. She lied consistently about Tovarich and her involvement with Dunbar, yet a small current of truth ran though much of what she said. What bothered him most was being unable to decide what was truth and what amounted to huge lies. He had learned the technique from the Preacher. Tell a series of improbable truths, let the mark find out how accurate all the small statements had been, then the big lie delivered the payoff. Whether Amanda did this on purpose with him or if it simply came naturally was something he wanted to find out.

  Either way, she was an intriguing woman.

  He moved from under the table, heading for the kitchen and the servants’ entrance. Walking fast, he got around to the front of the building in time to see Dunbar handing Amanda up into the carriage. They rattled off with the two bodyguards remaining behind. They argued for a moment, then went back inside. Lucas suspected they had been dispatched to find and kill him.

  He smiled. He would show them. He wouldn’t be inside. Stride long, he headed across Denver toward Dunbar’s house. The would-be revolutionary might not take Amanda there, but this was his best guess.

  Lucas was panting with exertion by the time he stopped in front of Dunbar’s house. A single lamp in the upstairs window gave the only hint that the house was occupied. He leaned against the gas streetlight and stared at the window. He caught his breath when a woman moved across the window, then returned to close the curtains. Whoever it was, he had not found Amanda. This woman’s bulk was easily twice that of the slender Amanda Baldridge.

  “Dunbar’s wife,” he said softly. He went around to the back door, thinking to work his way inside past the maid and any other servant to search the house for Amanda.

  He stopped when he came around to the carriage house. If that was Dunbar’s wife, Amanda would be elsewhere. Noise from inside the carriage house caused him to find shadows and fade into them. Hand on his pistol, he waited as the door opened. Inside stood the carriage he had seen outside the dance hall. Dunbar held the door, his voice muffled. Then he turned and Lucas heard him clearly.

  “She’s safely tucked away for the night. Don’t worry about that.”

  “You’re playing with fire, Mr. Dunbar.” The words came out in a slow Southern drawl. “Why don’t you let me and the boys find what she knows?”

  “She’ll talk soon enough. If you took her, you’d likely skin her to find the dog.”

  Lucas perked up. There was no question Dunbar spoke of Amanda.

  Stepping out to light a match and apply it to a cigar, the hidden man’s identity was revealed.

  Lucas etched the man’s face in his mind. This wasn’t one of Dunbar’s lackeys. In spite of the deference, the voice carried arrogance and even superiority.

  “You make us out to be barbarians, Mr. Dunbar. You and I, sir, are pragmatists.”

  “I won’t have you harming the young lady.”

  “No reason to, if she’ll tell us what we need. I must question your dedication to the cause.”

  “Colorado will secede and form a new country.” Dunbar slammed the carriage house door. “You have no reason to question my determination in this matter. I understand the penalty for failure.”

  “Do you now, Mr. Dunbar? I wonder.”

  Without another word, Jubal Dunbar stalked off. Lucas took an involuntary step to follow. Dunbar had imprisoned Amanda somewhere, and it wasn’t likely in the house with his wife in the upstairs bedroom. He caught himself before he gave away his presence. The other man puffed on his cigar a couple times, then ground it out. Lucas followed him with all the skill he possessed.

  The man doubled back twice, almost catching Lucas trailing him. Then Lucas began to look on it as a game and found it easier with every step to remain hidden as the man worked his way south to a run-down house a half mile from Dunbar’s mansion. Two men came out to greet the man from the carriage house. In the cold, still night their words carried to where Lucas crouched behind a ruined wagon lacking two rear wheels.

  “You find where she is?”

  “No, the stupid son of a bitch wouldn’t tell me. He has no idea what’s at stake.”

  “An entire country.”

  “Nicaragua,” the first man said. He took out another cigar, lit it, and puffed furiously. “Dunbar’s a fool thinking he can pry away a new state after all the political infighting it took to gain admittance.” He expelled a smoke ring that rose in the night until it caught the faint moonlight and turned to wavering silver. “If he doesn’t find where the gold is soon, we’ll have to be more resolute.”

  “Can’t supply an army with promises,” one man said.

  “Even with a million dollars, it’ll be hard. Clifford’s good at outfitting an expedition, but nobody wins when it’s rocks against rifles.”

  With that the trio went into the house.

  Lucas stared at the spot where the men had been, his heart racing. A million dollars in gold. Amanda’s life would be forfeit if she didn’t tell them where the dog was and how Tovarich could locate the treasure trove. A cold lump formed in his belly when he realized her life was over the instant she did tell them.

  There wasn’t any good way out of her predicament, not dealing with the likes of Dunbar—and Clifford.

  18

  Lucas paced anxiously, waiting for Lester Gallatin to return to the stables. The horses grew increasingly restive because of his constant movement, his occasional tapping of his fingers against whichever stall was closest, and his outbursts of cursing because of his helplessness. Finding Amanda demanded his full attention. If Dunbar wouldn’t do it, Clifford
would torture her to find what had happened to the Russian wolfhound.

  The woman’s insincere answer as to what had happened to Tovarich worried him. Lucas felt they’d had some bond while on the dance floor, moving smoothly to the music and responding to each other’s slightest motion. She had even faltered when it came to her incessant lying, or so he believed. His life depended on reading others, though his true expertise lay in seeing what drunken cowboys and crafty clerks and others who thought they held good hands really had been dealt. Bluffers were easy to spot. Those who honestly believed proved more difficult and required other skills to read. Whatever it took, Lucas played and won more than he lost.

  With women, the stakes were different, but he had won more than he’d lost there, too. His recent streak of bad luck with Carmela, and perhaps with Amanda, worried him. In Amanda’s case, her life might be forfeit. She thought making him believe her tall tales got her off the hook. Dealing with ruthless men like Dunbar and Clifford upped the stakes. She knew where the dog was. He hadn’t bought her lie for an instant, and neither would Clifford. Dunbar might be smitten with her charms, but the filibuster had greater goals than slipping between the sheets. Dunbar might want Colorado to secede, but his level of mercilessness failed to reach that of Clifford. For all Lucas knew, it might not even match that of the Russian anarchists. Vera Zasulich showed the fire of the fanatic and had lost a brother.

  Lucas went for his pistol when the livery stable’s door creaked open.

  “For God’s sake, where have you been?”

  “Lucas? Been doin’ what you asked of me.” Gallatin staggered in, canted his head to one side, and squinted through one eye to keep the world in focus. Even at a distance of yards, he reeked of booze. “It might not be safe if you keep comin’ on by here. They don’t really trust me. Think one followed me here. They see us together and we’re both dead men.”

  Lucas went to the door and peered out into the street. The few pedestrians out at this time of night walked briskly on their way. A solitary rider never glanced in his direction, and a clattering carriage drove in the wrong direction. Even as he watched, it turned a corner down by a gaslight and disappeared toward the center of town. Shadows and silence reigned once more.