by Cherie Shaw
After again checking the hallway and stairs, he stepped into the room, then quickly shut the door. Holding up the telegram, he told Logan, “I have received a very interesting wire from my nephew. You met Garth and his wife, Bridgett, at my townhouse in New York.” He thrust the thick envelope towards Logan. “Here, take your time lad. I want you to read this and then tell me your reaction.”
Logan’s expression was puzzled as he hesitantly reached for the cablegram. He sat down on the edge of the feather mattress, on the four-poster bed, and began reading. An eyebrow raised, and a slight smile quirked the side of his mouth, as he read:
UNCLE CLAUDE,
HAVE SOME INTERESTING BIT OF NEWS FOR YOU. IT SEEMS THAT CAPTAIN DEVLIN IS BEING DETAINED. ARRESTED BY U.S. INTELLIGENCE, IN COOPERATION WITH BRITISH INTELLIGENCE AT THE NEW YORK HARBOR. RED DRAGON IMPOUNDED. DEVLIN TRIED TO RUN. SHIP WAS ATTACKED BY U.S. MILITARY. SOME DAMAGE. DRAGON MAY SINK.
DEVLIN IS ON THE WAY TO ENGLAND AT PRESENT TO STAND TRIAL FOR CRIMES ON THE HIGH SEAS INCLUDING SMUGGLING, SLAVES, KIDNAPPING, FALSIFYING BOND DOCUMENTS, AND PIRACY. CAPTIVES ON BOARD SHIP WERE RESCUED AND RELEASED AFTER MEDICAL TREATMENT. SOME WILL NEED TO TESTIFY AGAINST DEVLIN AND CREW. TELL LOGAN HE IS NO LONGER WANTED FOR JUMPING SHIP. NO MORE WORRIES.
HERE’S A STRANGE BIT OF INFO: ONE OF THE CAPTIVES TO BE RELEASED WAS OUR FRIEND HENRY J. ADAMS, ALIAS HENRY BIRCH. WONDER HOW THAT HAPPENED. NOT SURE WHERE HE WAS HEADED WHEN RELEASED. BE CAREFUL.
GIVE OLIVIA MY LOVE. BRIDGETT SENDS REGARDS.
YOUR LOVING NEPHEW,
GARTH
P.S. YOU NEEDN’T REPLY. WE MAY LEAVE FOR ENGLAND, UNLESS YOU NEED ME THERE. WONDER WHAT HENRY ‘BIRCH’ IS UP TO? PROBABLY NOTHING THAT REQUIRES INTELLIGENT THINKING.
Logan handed the telegram back to Claude with a wide grin on his face. “That happened faster than I’d ever have expected. I know Garth said Devlin was being investigated, but so soon after we left New York he was taken in? Well, I must say it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving fellow. And that crew of his. I hope they got all of them too.”
“Time will tell.” Claude answered, then putting out his hand to Logan, he said, “Well, I believe I’ll turn in now. It seems my nephew’s been busy.”
Logan looked quizzically at Claude, “Do you think Garth may have had something to do with this investigation?”
Claude paused a minute before answering, then, “Logan, this is completely confidential so keep it under that black hat of yours. Not even a word to Ricardo or my niece, but, yes, my my nephew is working under cover for the British Government, and has for quite awhile. He doesn’t know that I know, however, the Queen and I have spoken at great lengths regarding Garth and his natural abilities and talents. She is quite impressed with him. I’m guessing that flighty little wife of his may be in the same business. That personality of hers is only a cover-up. She’s quite a talented actress, but she doesn’t fool me a bit.
“I did send a few letters and cablegrams from various ports, while you were recovering from your injuries on board my ship. I have many connections with government agencies, and the information you gave me about Devlin and his thugs may have helped in the investigation.” Claude smiled at that statement. Then continued. “Garth owned a small fleet of ships in partnership with a friend of his with a successful shipping industry, though the boy has been busy with that ‘sideline’ of his too. From what he told me though, he has sold his share of the import business to his partner. Now Garth will return to England to take over part of my business industry. He will continue with his ‘sideline’ though, of course.
“He doesn’t realize that I have so many connections in England and all over the world for that matter, that he can’t hide a thing from his old uncle. I’ve been one jump ahead of him at all times. However, it makes him feel good to think that he has put something over on this old man. Without Olivia’s knowing it, I have kept complete track of that nephew of mine, since he left home five years ago.” Claude chuckled at his own wit, then took his leave of Logan’s room, after a hearty handshake and a quick nod. He wondered where that Henry Adams, alias Henry Birch, was headed. Would he attempt to follow Olivia?
CHAPTER 8
Logan pushed open the batwing doors of ‘Hawk’s Red Eye’ saloon, with both hands, and then stood for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit interior. After briefly scanning the room, he sauntered on towards the bar. Ricardo, clad in his colorful garb, flashing conchos and silver spurs, had already preceded Logan by several minutes, and now stood belly up to the bar, sipping a shot of tequila from a small tumbler, and he turned slowly as if sizing up the newcomer. Logan moved slowly over to stand next to his Spanish friend, though he pretended to not know him at that time.
Ricardo gave a wide grin, showing even white teeth, against his dark olive skin. Swaying a little, Logan tipped his hat, and said, “Howdy. I saw you on the trail comin’ in.”
Ricardo touched the brim of his tall sombrero, and kept grinning looking the newcomer up and down. “Amigo.” He said, and nodded.
Logan then turned to the bewhiskered bartender, a ruddy cheeked and balding older man sporting a pot belly and a huge handlebar mustache, who was slowly wiping the bar with a rag that had seen better days. “I take it you’re Hawk.” Logan slurred. Then at the bartender’s nod, he said, “I’ll take the same as this gentleman here is drinkin’, then pour him another at the same time.”
“That’ll be tequila then. You treatin’ the mex’ here too?” The bartender asked, as he turned to grab a bottle and another glass from a shelf.
Logan drawled, “He seems like as good a drinkin’ pardner as any of the others here.” Logan slurred his words, giving the impression that he’d already tossed down more than a few drinks already. He laid down a couple of two-bit pieces on the bar, then tossed down a couple more, and said “Now, Hawk, don’t you go lettin’ me or this fella next to me here, go away thirsty.” Then he lifted the glass and downed the tequila in one big gulp, almost choking on the strong stuff. He shook his head as if to clear it, then pointed to the glass, and the bartender filled it up again. This time Logan slowly sipped his drink. He didn’t want to get drunk, just give the impression. People tended to be loose-lipped around an intoxicated person.
Ricardo was used to the strong tequila, his favorite whenever he drank, which wasn’t often, (Maria wouldn’t allow it), but he now grabbed the bottle, after tossing a few of his own coins onto the well-polished bar, then motioned for Logan to follow him over to a corner table. Logan pretended to stagger a bit as he walked behind his friend. They were drawing a bit of attention from some of the other patrons, but mostly humorous interest for the drinking strangers.
Ricardo appeared relaxed, enjoying the act that his friend Logan was performing, although he watched without seeming to, the others in the saloon. There were three rough looking characters sitting at one table playing cards and drinking. The three had watched as Logan and Ricardo walked over to the corner table, then they had gone back to their card game. Logan’s performance must have been believable.
Ricardo knew that Logan had sworn never to touch liquor again, after being shanghaied while intoxicated eight years ago, but this was necessary to see what they could find out about the town, also the surrounding ranches. Saloons were known to be usually a good source of information.
There were about a dozen men in the room, mostly cowhands, though one gentleman wore a suit, the rest were clad in weathered and worn western garb.
Ricardo turned to Logan, “Gracias, Señor, for the drink. You are one generous hombre, for a gringo. I am pleased to drink with you. This tequila, she will honor you with one magnificent headache, come morning. But she is so worth it.” He gave a hearty laugh, and slapped Logan on the shoulder.
Logan grinned as he answered, “Friend, it won’t be my first hangover……..nor…my last, an’ long as ah’m ridin’ the grub line, may as well enjoy a few now an’ then.”
Two flashy-dressed women were working
the floor, and one, a worn out looking brunette, in a bright red satin short dress, walked over and put an arm around Logan’s wide shoulders, leaning in his face, “Hi handsome, my name’s Rosie. Are you buyin’ drinks tonight?” She purred into his face.
Logan had to act the part of a lonely cowhand on the prowl, so he gave her a lopsided grin, and kidded along with her for awhile, then bought her a drink, and told her he’d see her later. He hoped she got busy later, if she didn’t, he’d be fast out the swinging doors. She wasn’t all that attractive, and he caught himself comparing her looks to Olivia’s. There was no contest there, and he mentally kicked himself for even thinking such thoughts. Why was it that every woman he even looked at lately, brought visions to mind of Lord Beckford’s lovely and enchanting niece?
Ricardo hoped that the saloon woman, Rosie, wouldn’t bother with him though, as Maria would kill him if she found out he had even talked to any woman in the saloon, and he heaved a deep sigh of relief when Rosie only paused a moment, then shrugged and winked at him as she walked away. She left her drink on the bar, and then walked over to work on more customers. There were plenty of them, and she called a few by name.
Logan wasn’t the only one who’d had (from all appearances anyway) too much to drink, as one of the younger cowboys had to be half carried out of the saloon by two of his friends. It had been obvious that he was not used to drinking, young and red-faced as he was. He looked like he hadn’t even begun shaving yet. Logan and Ricardo looked at each other, and then smiled. Oh, the innocence of youth.
Several tables had serious card games going on, though most seemed friendly, at least at the present time. Logan made a show of enjoying the evening, and casually watching some of the men playing cards, while he bantered back and forth with Ricardo, joking about the well decorated streets of Coyote Springs, with all the trees and flowers lining the main street.
He didn’t need to pretend any more that the strong tequila was affecting him, as his head was beginning to buzz for real. Logan hadn’t had a drink in over eight years, so this was a lot all at once. He signaled the bartender and ordered a beer, hoping that he could make it last awhile. He didn’t know what that mixture would do to his stomach, but he also thought to ask Hawk if he could rustle up some grub for him and Ricardo, as they hadn’t eaten since lunch, and secretly he hoped that a bite of food would keep him from ‘ailing’ too much in the morning. Hawk told him that they had a good cook in the kitchen, and already some of the other patrons had ordered supper also.
Logan leaned back in his chair, while they waited for the food to be served. He lazily scanned the room again, casually taking in the various customers, intentionally reading personalities. He spotted right away one tough looking gent at the table nearest where he and Ricardo were sitting. The man seemed to be ‘full of himself’, though no threat.
Four cowhands sat together at the adjoining table, enjoying a drink and a friendly game of cards. Logan heard one mention the ‘Triple-B’ ranch, and his interest heightened. The same one referred to the serious gent with the receding hairline and the stub of a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth, as the ‘ramrod’. Logan figured that Mr. ‘cigar’ was the foreman of the spread. He was in luck. Though the man looked like he’d been over the hill and back a few times, Logan knew he could handle him, if the need came, and with his luck, it probably would.
He waited a few moments, until the time was right, then as the bartender was placing a plateful of hot food in front of Logan and one for Ricardo, he asked loudly, “Say, Hawk. You s’pose anyone’s doin’ any hirin’ ‘round here? I may stay around awhile, kinda like this town. I’ve done a lot of bronc ridin’, an’ pushin’ cows up Wyoming way. It oughta be ‘bout time for roundup and brandin’.” He knew the men at the next table heard, as they turned his way, and studied him a few minutes.
Hawk finished placing the cutlery next to the plates, and said, “Enjoy the grub fellas. Not sure who’s hiring, but I’ll let you know if I hear of anyone.” He nodded in the direction of the next table, as he wiped his hands on his apron, and then walked back in the direction of the bar.
Logan and Ricardo dug in. The food was surprisingly good, roast beef and fried potatoes, with a couple tortillas on the side stuffed with beans. Logan didn’t know how that meal would mix with the alcohol in his system, but he hoped it would settle things down. If things progressed well, they could leave shortly after they had eaten. The place didn’t really smell like clean fresh air, and he couldn’t wait to get out of there.
He and Ricardo discussed the picturesque town of Coyote Springs, with its cool sparkling stream at the edge of town. They talked about anything that they could think of on the spur of the moment, except why they had chosen Coyote Springs to stop at. Logan was tired. It had been a long day, and he hoped that the gents at the next table were friendly and informative pretty quick, though if they learned nothing, they would just ride out to the Triple-B in the morning anyway, and take their chances on hiring out.
“How about you?” Logan asked Ricardo, as he finished the last bite on his plate, then lifting the mug, took a swallow of the warm beer that the bartender had brought him. At Ricardo’s questioning look, he continued, “You an experienced hand too? Needin’ work too, Amigo?”
“Si, Señor.” Ricardo grinned, “I am mucho experienced, mostly working my parents’ rancho grande in Mexico, a few spreads here in Texas, and some other places, wherever the wind happens to blow.” With that he laughed. “However, I could use a few extra pesos to keep me in my tequila and tacos. I would then be a happy man. Let us ride together? Si?”
Logan had to stop himself from laughing. Ricardo was sure putting it on thick, but then he was a very demonstrative Spaniard, and usually absorbed a lot of attention wherever he went, enjoying every moment of it.
Just as Hawk had cleared the plates away from the table, and collected a few more coins for the price of the two meals, the stern gent, with the cigar stub stuffed in the side of his mouth, laid down his hand of cards, then made a big show of shoving back his chair, and stood. He eyed Logan and Ricardo for a full half minute. “Heard you boys talkin’. Ridin’ the grub line?” He drawled.
Logan nodded, and Ricardo answered, “Si, Señor. Why do you ask?”
“Name’s Holderman, Jinx Holderman that is. I’m foreman of the Triple-B, a spread southwest of here.” He puffed his chest out a bit. Yes the man was surely full of himself. Then he continued talking, “If your friend here sobers up by tomorrow sunup, I may be able to use you. Ever broke wild mustangs?”
Logan slurred his answer, putting on a bleary-eyed appearance. “Never seen a mustang that weren’t wild. They wouldn’t be needin’ to be broke if they weren’t. I been bronc-bustin’ them ornery critters since ah was knee-high to a prairie dog an’ still a’settin’ in short pants. Just you point me the way. Ah’ll show you what I can do. What you got in mind, pard?”
Mr. cigar reddened in the face, “I’m not your pard. If you work for me you’ll find that out soon enough.” Holderman wasn’t very tall, maybe around five foot, ten inches, but he was a stocky, husky fellow, sour faced and stern. A serious, no nonsense ramrod. He took the mostly burned out cigar from his mouth, flicked the ashes onto the floor, and then stomped on them before continuing on. “Got a corral full of feisty ones. Just come in. We’ll also need a few extra hands just for the roundup and branding. If you boys think you can handle it, be there early.” After giving directions to the ranch, he abruptly turned and sat back down to begin shuffling the cards for another game.
Logan figured they had been dismissed, as Holderman hadn’t waited for an answer from them, nor had he introduced any of the other men at the table. He must be a man of few words. Logan chuckled to himself. The gent would have more than a few words before long. That is, if he was aware of the scam that was going on at the ranch. Logan figured that from all appearances he probably did. He had an evil look about him that appeared as crooked as a branding iron. Though he figured
that most of the cowhands were just honest hard working cowboys, riding for the brand, trying to make an honest living, not necessarily knowing, or caring about any scam going on. Usually when there was crooked business going on, there were only a few involved. Couldn’t have too many with their hands in the ‘cookie jar’.
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Earlier that same evening, Olivia had just finished changing her dress and brushing out her hair, then to pin it up in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, as Maria tapped lightly on the door, then entered the hotel room at Olivia’s call.
“You are rested now, señorita?” Maria asked with a smile.
“As well as can be, after an entire afternoon of buying out all of the stores in this town. But we did enjoy ourselves, didn’t we, Maria?” Olivia laughed.
“Si, and I can’t believe we ran into that ‘Lulu’ woman, working in the mercantile. She appeared to be a bit embarrassed, though she needn’t have been, it is honest work. At least she’s not working in a saloon.” She snickered, “Though I wouldn’t put that past her, as she would certainly fit in.”