by Matt Braun
Hickok ignored the outburst. “Tell me something, Richter,” he said evenly. “Whereabouts you boys from?”
Richter stiffened. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Lemme guess,” Hickok said. “You’re New York born and bred—ain’t you?”
“Where I’m from is no concern of yours.”
“See there, you just answered my question.”
“Hold on now.” Walker started around his desk. “You put those guns away or I’ll place you under arrest.”
Cody pulled his Colt Army. “Just stay where you are, Sheriff. You’re not arresting anybody.”
“Goddamn you, Cody!” Walker bridled. “I’ll report you to Colonel Reynolds. He’ll have you up on charges.”
“Likely the other way ’round,” Cody said. “You’re in cahoots with a couple of child abductors. I doubt you’ll be wearin’ that badge much longer.”
“Time to make tracks,” Hickok said in a commanding voice. “Bill, you go ahead and get the kids outside. I’ll keep these gents covered.”
Cody ushered the children through the door. Katherine darted a last hateful glance at Richter as she stepped into the night. Hickok wagged the snout of first one pistol and then the other at the three men. His mouth was set in a hard line.
“Any of you jokers follow me out, I’ll stop your ticker.”
No one moved as he backed through the door.
* * *
The night clerk at the Cedar House was nodding off. The bell over the door jarred him awake, and he looked up to see Hickok and Cody with two small children. His brow furrowed in a question mark.
“Don’t ask,” Hickok said, as they crossed the lobby. “Pretend you dreamt the whole thing.”
“Yessir, Mr. Hickok, I didn’t see nothin’.”
“That’s the spirit, bub.”
Upstairs, Cody unlocked the door to their room. The children followed him inside, trailed by Hickok, and he quickly locked the door. He tossed his hat on the bed with a troubled look.
“Some kettle of fish,” he said. “Got a dangblasted crook for a sheriff.”
Hickok snorted. “I’d wager we’ve seen the last of him. He ain’t got the stomach for a fight.”
“Think I’ll pay a call on the county judge. High time somebody heard the truth.”
“Whole courthouse might be full of polecats. Let’s chew on that awhile.”
“So what’s our next move?”
Katherine and Augustus were seated on the edge of the bed. They appeared spent, their shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Hickok crossed the room and sat down next to them. He looked at Katherine.
“Need you to think real hard,” he said. “Are you plumb certain about that feller they called Richter? No mistakes?”
“I couldn’t forget his face.” Her eyes puddled with tears, her features bunched tight. “How will we ever get back to Mother and Father now?”
Hickok put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him, snuffling tears, and he gently stroked her hair. “Don’t fret yourself,” he said. “We’ll figure something out.”
“Wild Bill won’t let us down.” Augustus sniffed, wiping his nose, and took his sister’s hand. “Didn’t you see the way he pulled his guns? I mean wow, fast as lightning! Just like it says in the dime novels.”
Hickok seemed acutely embarrassed. Cody smothered a smile and looked at him with a deadpan expression. “Well, you heard the youngster, Wild Bill. Where do we go from here?”
“You know the U.S. Marshal for Nebraska?”
“Yeah, his name’s Omar Drake. Headquartered at the state capitol.”
“That’s our play,” Hickok said firmly. “We’ll telegraph him first thing in the mornin’. A federal lawman will have these sprouts home in no time.”
“Durn right he will!” Cody marveled. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Hickok smiled. “’Cause there’s only one Wild Bill.”
The children were given the bed. They were sound asleep in seconds, feeling safe for the first time since their abduction. Hickok and Cody stretched out on the floor, saddlebags beneath their heads, their mackinaws for covers. Cody was asleep when he closed his eyes, but Hickok lay awake staring into the dark. A worrisome thought kept surfacing in the back of his mind.
He wondered why children with parents had ended up on the Orphan Train. It was a question he intended to put to the one named Richter. Tomorrow.
Just as soon as the kids were off his hands.
CHAPTER 8
A GENTLE wind chased puffy clouds around an azure sky. The sun crested the tops of buildings and stood lodged like a brass ball on the eastern horizon. All throughout town the smell of woodsmoke eddied on the breeze.
Shops and stores opened for business at eight o’clock. By then Locust Street was already jammed with freight wagons and the lighter wagons of farmers. The boardwalks were crowded with early shoppers about their errands and teamsters unloading all manner of goods. North Platte hurried to greet another day.
Hickok and Cody, followed by the children, came out of a café next door to the hotel. Katherine and Augustus were stuffed, having been treated to their first decent meal since boarding the Orphan Train. The plainsmen, hearty eaters themselves, had ordered steak and eggs, with a platter of flapjacks on the side. The children consumed an entire pitcher of milk.
From the café, they walked upstreet to Zimmerman’s Mercantile. Hickok and Cody, talking about it over breakfast, decided the children were in desperate need of new outfits. Their threadbare clothing was by now soiled and unkempt from their journey west on the train. Nathan Zimmerman, elated to have Buffalo Bill Cody and Wild Bill Hickok in his store, personally waited on the children. He brought out his best stock.
Augustus was outfitted with corduroy trousers and a blue flannel shirt, sturdy boots and a pint-sized mackinaw, and a black slouch hat. Katherine, with Zimmerman’s coaxing, selected a ruffled calico dress, a woolen mantle coat, a chambray bonnet, and high-topped calfskin shoes. They changed in the fitting room, leaving their old clothing to be thrown out. Their appearance as well as their spirits were measurably improved. They felt decently attired for the first time since their abduction.
When they emerged from the store, Augustus seemed particularly proud of his Western duds. He imagined himself a courageous scout or a bold lawman, and put a swagger into his step. Katherine was simply thrilled to be clean and presentable, no longer a wretched little ragamuffin. She shyly planted a kiss on Cody’s cheek and then kissed Hickok as well. Her eyes were bright with happiness.
“Thank you, thank you,” she said gaily. “You’re both so wonderfully kind.”
Augustus stuck out his chest. “Boy, I wish Mother and Father could see us now. Wouldn’t that be something!”
“That reminds me,” Hickok said. “What’s your pa’s name?”
“Henry,” Katherine said. “Henry Morton Stanley.”
“And I recollect you live on a park?”
“Yes, Number 24 Gramercy Park.”
“We’ll telegraph your pa when we wire the U.S. Marshal. Let him know you’re safe and sound.”
“Oh, thank you, Wild Bill.” Katherine took his hand with sudden affection. “Mother and Father must be frantic with worry.”
“There you rascals are!”
Homer Ledbetter reined his team to a halt. He hopped down from the wagon and strode toward them with an angry scowl. He stopped on the boardwalk.
“You little scutters!” he said hotly. “Thought you’d run off, did you?”
“No need to shout,” Cody said, stepping forward. “I remember you from yesterday, at the train depot.”
“Outta my way,” Ledbetter growled. “I adopted them brats fair and square. I’m here to collect ’em.”
“Well, way it turns out, they’re not orphans. So your adoption don’t hold.”
“Mister, you ain’t foolin’ nobody. You’re not gonna make off with kids I done took in.”
�
��You’ve got the wrong idea,” Cody told him. “We’re fixin’ to send ’em back home. That’s the God’s honest truth.”
“Don’t gimme none of your gawddamn horseshit. Stand aside!”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Ledbetter launched a looping haymaker. Cody slipped the blow and hit him with a splintering left-right combination. The farmer staggered off the boardwalk and Cody hammered him with a solid right to the jaw. He went down with a thud, out cold.
“Wow.” Augustus’s eyes were round as saucers. “What a punch!”
“Yessir,” Hickok said wryly. “Buffalo Bill is one fine pugilist.”
Cody sucked on a skinned knuckle. “Sorry half-wit wouldn’t listen to reason. What was I supposed to do?”
“Why, just what you done. What else?”
They left Ledbetter sprawled in the dust. A block downstreet they paused outside the hotel. Hickok motioned off toward the railroad tracks.
“You go on to the depot and send them wires. I’ll take the kids up to the room.”
Cody nodded. “What was that New York address again?”
“Henry Morton Stanley. Number 24 Gramercy Park.”
The drumming sound of hoofbeats brought them around. A cavalry trooper skidded his horse to a halt and swung down out of the saddle. The horse was caked with sweat and the trooper was breathing hard. He hurried toward them.
“Mr. Cody!” he said stoutly. “The colonel wants you double-quick. There’s been an Injun raid.”
“Damn,” Cody cursed. “Whereabouts?”
“Farnum relay station. Hostiles made off with the horses and killed both the handlers. Burned the station to the ground.”
“Has the colonel put a unit in the field?”
“Cap’n Meinhold’s company,” the trooper said. “They’re trackin’ the Injuns somewhere off to the northeast. Colonel says you’ll find’em up around the Loup River.”
Cody turned toward the hotel. He saw the desk clerk watching them from the doorway. Then, abruptly, he turned back to Hickok.
“I’ve got no choice but to skedaddle. Can you manage the kids?”
Hickok considered a moment. “Don’t care much for the odds. Richter and his bully-boy might come at me with the sheriff and a bunch of deputies. I doubt I could hold ’em off without you and your army connections.”
“So what are you sayin’?”
“I haven’t had a scrap with the Injuns in a spell. Let’s take the kids along.”
“You serious?”
“They’d be a damnsight safer on a patrol than here in town. If I was to get arrested, we’d never see ’em again.”
“You’re sure?”
“You got a better idea?”
“Soldier!” Cody barked. “Hightail it over to the livery and get our horses saddled. Tell ’em we’ll be rentin’ their two best horses.”
The trooper took off running. Cody swapped a look with Hickok, then glanced at the children. He shook his head with a dubious frown.
“Hope you kids can stay on a horse.”
Augustus gave him a nutcracker grin. “We are trained equestrians, Buffalo Bill.”
“Equestrians?” Hickok said. “What the devil’s that?”
“Why, how to stay on a horse, Wild Bill.”
Ten minutes later they rode north out of town.
* * *
The Platte City Hotel was a half block north of the Cedar House. All morning Richter and Johnson had posted themselves at the plate-glass window fronting the lobby. From there, they had a clear view of the street.
Richter as yet had no concrete plan. A confrontation was out of the question, for he and Johnson was no match against Hickok and Cody. But he had to resolve the matter of the children, and soon. Things were starting to spiral out of control.
From the lobby, Richter had watched as the children were taken to breakfast and then to Zimmerman’s Mercantile. He’d seen the dispute with Homer Ledbetter, and the conference between Cody and Hickok following the arrival of the cavalry trooper. And now, thoroughly baffled, he watched as the plainsmen rode off with the children.
Some minutes later Richter and Johnson entered the Cedar House. The desk clerk was properly intimidated by Johnson’s scowl, and even more persuaded by a hundred dollars in gold. He told Richter everything he’d overheard in the cavalry trooper’s report, and the conversation between Hickok and Cody. He was then sworn to an oath of silence, which was not taken lightly. Turk Johnson was clearly the penalty for a breach of trust.
The news was better than Richter had hoped. A plan crystallized as he emerged from the hotel and turned uptown. To a large extent, the success of the scheme was dependent on the cooperation of the sheriff. But Richter was reasonably confident that Walker could be made to see the light. Any man whose livelihood was decided at the ballot box jealously guarded his good name. All the more so if he was a crook.
At the courthouse, Richter and Johnson caught the sheriff as he was leaving his office. One of his deputies had recovered sufficiently from the grippe to relieve him, and he was headed home. His features knotted, for he devoutly wished he’d seen the last of the two men. Some inner voice told him the situation had gone from bad to worse.
“We have a problem,” Richter said without preamble. “Hickok and Cody just rode out of town with the children.”
“Not my problem,” Walker countered. “Our agreement was for reports on a couple of orphans. Turns out those kids aren’t orphans.”
“Whatever their status, you’re still at some personal jeopardy.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Consider the consequences,” Richter said impassively. “You took a bribe, which in itself is a felony. Cody will inevitably raise the issue with army officials and someone will report it to the newspapers. Voters tend to believe what they read, and corruption is a dirty word.” He paused for emphasis. “You wouldn’t stand a chance in the next election.”
Walker felt like a man who had dipped a toe in quicksand only to have his leg entrapped. To extricate himself he somehow had to ensure that Richter prevailed in the matter of the so-called orphans. Only then would Richter catch a train back to New York.
“All right,” he said at length. “What do you want from me?”
“An introduction,” Richter informed him. “Every town has its rougher element, and someone who’s cock-’o-the-walk. Who would that be in North Platte?”
“Axel Bohannon,” Walker said. “Him and his men are hide hunters part of the time and general hell-raisers all the time. Why do you ask?”
“Would you consider Bohannon a mercenary? Will he take pay to commit violence?”
“Hell, he might do it for free. He’s kissin’ kin to a mad dog. What is it you’re plannin’?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Now that you mention it … forget I asked.”
“Where might I find Mr. Bohannon?”
“Him and his boys have got a cabin south of the tracks. The one with a corral out back.”
“I’ll tell him you send your regards.”
Some while later Richter knocked on the door. The man who answered it wore filthy longjohns and a sullen expression. “What d’you want?”
“Axel Bohannon,” Richter said. “I’m here on a matter of business.”
The inside of the cabin smelled like a wolf’s den. There were three double-bunk beds, with worn clothing, saddles and camp gear strewn about the room. Four men were still in bed and a fifth sat at a table by the stove. He spilled tobacco into a rolling paper, waiting for the one who answered the door to move aside. He popped a match on his thumbnail.
“Who’re you?” he said, lighting his cigarette. “How’d you get my name?”
Bohannon was lean and muscular, with brutish features. Richter left Johnson to guard his back and walked to the table. He took a chair.
“Otto Richter,” he said simply. “How I came by your name isn’t important. I understand your services are f
or hire.”
“Do you?” Bohannon exhaled a wad of smoke. “What sorta services you lookin’ for?”
“Wild Bill Hickok and Buffalo Bill Cody have something that belongs to me. In point of fact, two children.”
“And?”
“I want you to get them back.”
“Hickok and Cody,” Bohannon said, flicking an ash with his little finger. “Nobody to mess with even when you’re sober. Tell me why I’d do a thing like that?”
“A thousand dollars,” Richter said. “Half now and half when the job is finished.”
“Do you want ’em dead?”
“Only if it comes to that.”
Bohannon stared at him. “What’re these kids to you?”
“Does it matter?” Richter said equably. “We’re talking about Hickok and Cody—and a thousand dollars.”
“You cut right to the bone, don’t you? Awright, let’s say I’m interested. What’s next?”
Richter briefly explained the problem. Cody and Hickok were riding even now to join a company of the Fifth Cavalry. Their destination, according to his information, was somewhere along the Loup River. The children were with the plainsmen.
“I’ll be go-to-hell,” Bohannon said, mildly amused. “Took kids off huntin’ hostiles. That’s what you’re sayin’?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Well, now it ain’t just Hickok and Cody no more. You’re tellin’ me a troop of cavalry and Christ knows how many hostiles. A thousand ain’t enough.”
“How much?”
“Double oughta get it.”
“Very well,” Richter agreed. “Two thousand.”
“Done.” Bohannon puffed his cigarette. “How you want this handled?”
“I have no interest in either the cavalry or the Indians. Once we find them, your job is to trail them without being seen. I want to catch Hickok and Cody alone—with the children.”
“You’re comin’ with us?”
“That’s correct.”
“Sounds like a barrel of laughs.” Bohannon motioned across the room. “You and your strongarm boy horsemen, are you?”
Johnson held his gaze with a stoic expression. “Horsemen or not,” Richter said, “we’re along for the ride. That’s part of the deal.”