“I’d prefer not. However, the maritime expert said he could be quoted. You might want to ride down and speak with him so you can claim the effort. He is Professor John Blake. He worked under the famous Matthew Fontaine Maury at the Virginia Military Institute. You may use my name to get in.
“Speaking to John Blake will just be due diligence. He can help you mark off some suspects but does not know anything about dissidents. Though I guess since Maury’s electric torpedoes kept the Union Navy from participating in the battle for Richmond, he might be called a dissident himself,” Kane said with a grin.
“I will get Sarah to research him and will go down as soon as possible. Thank you, Michael.”
By this time, they were approaching the six-person dining table and seated the two ladies, as was proper custom.
May’s dinner was not exotic. It was simple comfort food cooked well and was enjoyed by all. Her cherry pie and coffee capped off the meal.
It would have been usual custom for the men to adjourn to a parlor and drink and smoke cigars. These were two singularly different couples. All four went to the parlor and no cigars were smoked.
They continued the dinner’s chat over coffee.
“Rita, what is it like being a famous actress?” Sarah asked.
“Not as exciting as being one of the few lady detectives in the whole world, I bet!”
“I guess it is exciting. My first detective job taught me a lot. My job with Wells Fargo and my new partner taught me more. It taught me how cold it is to camp in a blizzard without a shelter, and how scary it is to be shot at.”
“Have you ever had to shoot anyone?” Rita asked.
“Yes, a number of times. Each in self-defense.”
“How does it feel? Do you have regrets? Guilt?”
“No. I did not ask someone to try to kill me. I just defended myself. It was their choice every time. Train or stage robbers, kidnappers, attackers. All their choice.”
Kane knew the listing of situations in which Sarah had killed suggested a minimum of four or five kills. Probably more. He wondered about Pope. The newspapers said twenty kills. Yet, he just said he killed over half the number at age ten. Kane suspected he was faster, but his record was perhaps half the detective’s.
Pope watched quietly. Sarah was a good hostess. A good wife, no marriage ceremony notwithstanding.
Rita circled back around to Sarah’s first question and talked about playing just off Broadway. She also talked about a different hotel every night, having to look her very best every moment, meals missed, gropes eluded.
“Michael rescued me. He came to the door in Richmond, and I fell in love with him at first sight,” Rita said. Both Pope and Sarah knew to not press Kane’s background or business. Though his contacts were at the highest levels, his world was shadowy to say the least.
Kane looked at his gold Waltham Premier pocket watch.
“Heavens! It is after eleven. We have enjoyed ourselves so much, we missed the passage of time.”
“Michael, did you ever check into the Willard? I thought I saw luggage in the rear of your buggy,” Pope asked.
“No, we didn’t check in yet.”
“We have a spare bedroom already set up. Please spend the night here. The horses are already put away. I will run down and get your bags,” Pope said.
Kane looked at his wife who smiled and gave a little nod.
“Thank you, John and Sarah, it has been a long ride and a great evening. We’d be pleased to stay and probably be asleep within minute after our heads hit the pillow,” Kane said. They all went to bed early. Sarah took a pitcher of well water and a couple of glasses with her, knowing the salty Smithfield ham biscuit appetizers would keep them thirsty all night. Pope had introduced her to the salty ham after his visit to Topping Castle.
Around two in the morning, Pope was awakened by the horses sounding agitated in the stable out back. He pulled on trousers, and barefooted and shirtless, eased out the bedroom door, his single action Colt in hand. He and Kane almost bumped each other in the hall. Pope glanced at the seven-and-a-half-inch barreled Colt Kane carried. Even in the dark, he could tell it was special.
Pope led the way, carefully taking a quick peek around each corner in the house. At the rear door, he silently unlocked the door. Overseeing the renovation of space in Cheyenne to be a new, large Wells Fargo office, he had become something of a lock expert. He had made sure this one was well-oiled for occasions such as this.
The two men, matching in height and build and a decade apart padded silently towards the garage.
They saw two men trying to bridle the horses to lead them away. Pope brought the stag butt of his Colt down on the closest man’s head. As he dropped, the rapid four clicks of Kane’s gun spelled out C-O-L-T.
“Deputy US marshal. You are under arrest for horse stealing,” Pope said.
Pope had number two drag number one away from the stable. Kane checked his horses and pronounced them alright.
Both men turned as the rear door opened. Two striking women stood there in thin nightgowns, transparent backlit by the moon.
One was a detective, the other a former actress of some repute.
The detective was holding a sawed-off shotgun. Her handling of it demonstrated a high degree of familiarity.
“Honey, if you want to shoot him, I’ll step way away to avoid getting doused with body parts,” Pope said, attempting to sound serious. The only one who did not detect the humor in his voice was the man in front of ten-gauge barrels as big as sewer pipes.
“No, darling. Why don’t you question them? I will decide on shooting them once we see how they cooperate.”
The first man had finally regained sufficient consciousness to hear the scary woman’s last sentence.
“Who do you work for?” Pope asked.
“Nobody,” the second man said, looking at his soiled boots.
“Why were you spying on us?” Kane asked.
“We was trying to steal these horses,” the first man said.
“Who sent you here to steal them?” Pope snarled in a gravelly tone which always excited Sarah.
“We seen the horses when you came up. Nobody sent us.”
“Sarah, we are going to have a pow-wow. Would you two ladies watch these rustlers? If they try to get away, please kill them as cleanly as possible,” Pope said.
He and Kane walked off. The latter covered his mouth to hide his restrained amusement.
“What a pair of inept horse thieves,” he said. “I doubt they are involved in any scheme against you or the government. I’d just as soon not have to be a police witness. Want to just scare some more hell out of them and let them go?” Kane asked.
“I’m thinking the same thing. You want to give them the send-off?”
Kane nodded and they walked back. Kane got in their faces and stared malevolently at both.
“I take it personal when somebody tries to steal my horse. When they try to steal two of my horses, I want to shoot them. Or, maybe cut them.” He drew the Bowie Pope had suspected he carried.
Kane waved it very close to their noses. Pope could tell he knew how to handle a blade. The first clue was the lack of severed noses hitting the ground.
“I had a long day yesterday and you also interrupted my sleep and my hosts’ sleep. If the two of you will take off running, I will ask the lovely lady with the shotgun to not cut you both in half. I have memorized your faces. If I ever see either of you again, you are dead. Dead. Get it?”
They nodded and Kane yelled, “Git!” Their combined sprint down the alley was admirable.
The four watched them go out of sight.
They went in, relocked the door and resumed the remaining several hours of sleep left before daylight.
As the two were disappearing, a shot rang out. The bullet flew between Pope and Kane, closer to the former. Kane instantly fired at the flash. There was a scream, the clatter of metal on cobblestone, and footsteps.
The two tall men sprinted off in pursu
it. Sarah urged Rita and now also May, back inside. She had May turn the gas lamp down to its lowest without going out.
Pope spotted a revolver in the moonlight. There were specks of blood near it. He picked up the revolver and handed it to Kane.
“A Smith & Wesson Scofield,” Kane said.
They continued to track the spots of blood for several blocks, but then they abated and there was nothing to follow on the hard surface.
“I am surprised the shots did not bring Washington’s finest running our way,” Kane said.
“Me, too. Very surprised,” Pope replied as they padded their way, barefooted, back to Pope’s house. “Damn good shot in the dark, Michael!”
“Unfortunately, not good enough. A hit might have solved your mystery. I am convinced the horse thievery was aimed at getting us outside for the shooter. The two idiots were prompted but probably not party to the plan to shoot you, John.”
“It almost has to be the case. I must be getting real close.”
“If you aren’t, at least someone fears you are.”
Kane and Rita were awakened at daylight by the aroma of coffee brewing and bacon frying wafting up to their room from the kitchen. May already had four place settings at the kitchen table, where they usually had breakfast.
Kane found Pope sitting in the small back garden by the stables. Unknown to Kane, Pope had already fed the two Andalusians. Now, he was drinking a cup of May’s rich coffee.
May got a cup of coffee for Kane and told him Pope was already outside. The day promised to be another Washington high humidity scorcher.
“Good morning, John,” Kane said as he walked out and sat beside his host.
“Hi, Michael. Did you all sleep alright after last night’s interesting interlude?”
“It took me a few minutes. I think I am getting rusty.”
“Well, you didn’t seem rusty last night. Your Colt must be specially made and tuned.”
“It is, John. I had a matched pair for years. Recently, I met a young Mexican officer leading a patrol of Rurales. It was like looking in a mirror twenty years ago. I knew he had to be the son I never knew about. He was. He knew instantly also. We bonded. I gave him my left-hand Colt. I’ve since replaced it, but the new one’s action still has to break in.”
“Where did you study fencing, Michael?” Pope asked.
“In Spain and some in Germany. My father sent me to Europe to learn the martial arts. How did you know about the fencing?”
“I saw you with the Bowie last night. Old Jim Bowie himself could not move with the precision you showed. It was clear you received training. And a lot of it.”
“I notice you carry a Bowie hidden from the eyes of ninety-nine percent of the world. Have you used it?”
“I have. I learned from my grandfather who would give up his Colt Army before his Bowie knife. You’d like him. Mid-sixties and fit and tough.”
“I’m sure I would. I heard of him even as far east as Dallas,” Kane said.
“Michael, thank you for your inquiries on our probable threat.”
“I’m afraid I only helped you to eliminate some potential threats, but not put you closer to the real one. Or ones.”
“In investigations, one lists all the potential suspects and then studiously eliminates them. Usually, the one you end up with is the one you are going to arrest.”
“Think it will be so in this case?” Kane asked.
Pope grinned at him.
“No, I think the bad guy will come out of the shadows and not be on our educated guess list. I just hope I can stop him before the president is harmed.”
“I don’t know you except by reputation and our brief, pleasant stay with you and Sarah. However, I have a feeling you will shut down the operation before Arthur is harmed. I just hope you will have the backup and legal wherewithal to do it the way it needs to be done.”
“Me, too. Michael. For Sarah’s sake as much as mine.”
“She looked pretty much at home with the shotgun last night.”
“Sarah has used a shotgun with deadly force for Wells Fargo several times. A revolver also. It you look at the probable actual kills Billy the Kid made, she is ahead of him.”
Kane smiled at this as if he were enjoying a personal joke.
“I know you have to get back on the case. Rita and I will head out. I fear I will indulge your hospitality a bit longer having smelled May’s breakfast for four.”
“Of course. You and Rita are welcome anytime. I really mean it,” Pope said.
“You all did not mention her maiden name,” Kane said.
“We knew it before you arrived. We figured if you or she wanted to talk about it, you would.”
“I appreciate your concerns. It’s really not as touchy a subject as you might think. One day, we will fill you and Sarah in,” Kane said.
“I will continue to poke around among my sources and let you know if I find anything.”
“Thanks, Michael. I will give you my telegraph address at the War office and the telephone here before you go. Day or night is fine. You and I both seem to have the capability to awaken and be ready to operate, no matter the hour.”
“We do,” Kane agreed sincerely.
May called them out for breakfast.
Sarah and Rita were already seated, in robes but with hair fixed for the day.
They ate and chatted, then the men went out and harnessed the Andalusians for the trip back to Charlottesville. At Sarah’s suggestion, May made a picnic lunch for their trip home.
They were off at eight, leaving Pope and Sarah to summarize events already sleepily mentioned.
“I need to tie up the maritime angle by going down to Lexington and talk with the professor there. I think what we have to concentrate on now is dissident groups. People perhaps unrelated to the original lists of suspects. Political dissidents,” Pope said.
“I will start today on the idea of political dissidents and see what I can learn,” Sarah said.
“I will head to Lexington. I am not sure what trains are available. I know it’s down the Valley Road. It runs the length of the Shenandoah Valley, I think. Andrew Jackson’s foot cavalry went up and down it during the war. Depending on transportation, I may be back tonight or tomorrow. I will call the War office and let Lincoln know where I am.”
Pope put his notebook, toothbrush and some clean clothes in a leather satchel and headed to the train depot. Sarah had more time to prepare before the library opened.
He arrived at the newly completed depot in Lexington late in the afternoon. He walked the distance to Virginia Military Institute.
Pope located Professor John Blake in his office. The man was expecting him from a telegram from Kane.
“I have been the so-called expert in maritime matters since the death of my friend Maury about a decade ago. No one will ever have his breadth of knowledge,” Blake told Pope. “Matthew Fontaine Maury had both real and intellectual experience.”
“Professor, I have been asked by Washington officials to look into impact on converting to a steel hull navy. One of the things concerning me is how the various participants in the construction chain are reacting. From the suppliers of wood and steel to the marine architects, to the workers and their unions,” Pope said, stopping so Blake could answer however he wished.
“As I told Michael Kane, there is little discord which might cause trouble. At least, as far as I have heard. The marine lumber builders and transporters will still supply to commercial interests. Since the Navy owns the greater part of the lumber supply with their live oak reservations, there is only small commercial impact.
“Everyone involved knows steel hulls are the way of the future. The transition now may be inconvenient for some, but it’s inevitable.”
“Professor Blake, have you heard any chatter in the industry the government should be concerned about. Threats, for example?” Pope asked.
“None at all. I have attended meetings and conferences about the subject. Industry repr
esentatives from every aspect of what you correctly identify as the ‘construction chain’ were represented. I have read virtually every available article on the subject. For one reason, it will affect what and how I teach. There is nothing about which I have heard indicating threats or violence.”
“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate your input.”
There was not another train until the morning, so Pope checked into a hotel for the night.
He documented the conversation in his notebook to be used to transcribe into typed form at the War office.
While he was still concerned about Conkling, he was beginning to think he should actually go to New York and speak with the man. He was convinced he should beard the lion in his den by the time he arrived back in Washington the next day.
Pope met with Lincoln on his first day back in the office. While his report was being typed on the office’s new machine, he gave the secretary his executive summary of the visit to Lexington.
“I’m about to write off the wood vs. steel aspects of the case, sir.”
“Without reading your full report, I am inclined to agree. I will take it to Brewster and make sure he concurs. Where to now?”
“I keep coming back to Conkling. I think the best way to get a feel for him is a face-to-face meeting.”
“The prospects of such a meeting will occupy much of my—no, our—meeting with the attorney general. Conkling was confirmed to the US Supreme Court and just never showed up. His legal knowledge greatly exceeds mine or Ben Brewster’s. He can be the most dangerous man I know of in politics. There are those who say he engineered the assassination of Garfield to put his buddy, Vice President Arthur in office. I doubt it, but who knows?”
Lincoln called in his secretary and had him call Brewster’s office and set up an appointment for thirty minutes. It was set for after lunch.
Lincoln seldom left for lunch. Pope walked over to the President’s House and checked the logs and spoke with the office corporal and returned in time to walk next door with Lincoln.
A forty-minute discourse followed about the positives and negatives of actually interviewing Conkling. Pope reiterated Sarah’s findings from the journalist.
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