‘If the manhunting don’t kill or cripple you first,’ Tapton responded, pushing the receipt and pen across the desk.
Jonah glanced over the receipt, dipped the pen in the inkpot and signed his name with a flourish. He was putting the cash in his billfold when a flurry of noise and activity in the street outside drew both men’s attention to the window.
‘That’s the stage from Silverton,’ Tapton exclaimed. He glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. ‘It’s near on half an hour late!’
‘Surely it doesn’t usually stop outside your office,’ Jonah said, walking to the door with the marshal following.
A crowd was beginning to gather as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. The driver and guard climbed down from opposite sides of the box seat.
‘There was a hold-up,’ the driver yelled, in answer to questions as he looked for the marshal. ‘No one hurt,’ he added.
The door of the dusty stagecoach opened, and a young man climbed out. He was followed by a heavy-set man in a smart suit, and a travelling salesman, then a tall, gangly man, who reached up to help a young woman down the steps. She wore a good-quality dress, now rather crumpled, and kept her face averted from the watchers.
‘Why, that’s Miss Louise!’ Jonah exclaimed. He shoved his way through the gawping crowd, ducked under the hitching rail and jumped down into the street. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked anxiously, taking hold of her shoulders.
She flinched at first, then recognized him and relaxed a little. Green eyes filled with unshed tears.
‘Did they hurt you?’ Jonah asked softly, slipping one arm around her waist.
Miss Louise swallowed, then whispered, ‘Take me home, please.’
CHAPTER TWO
Home for Miss Louise was a large, well-built house a little way up the other side of Panhandle Street. Jonah ignored the wide front door, with its well-polished brass knocker, and took Miss Louise to the kitchen door at the back. There they were met by the cook, Ken, who was chopping vegetables.
‘Fetch Miss Jenny,’ Jonah said. ‘Then make some good, strong coffee.’
‘Sure.’ Ken wiped his hands on a towel, then hurried out.
Jonah led Louise from the kitchen, along a short, windowless corridor, and into a pleasant parlour that overlooked the yard and stables at the back of the house. There he sat her in a chintz-covered armchair, and sat himself at the plain dining table. Louise pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and blew her nose vigorously as a few tears rolled down her face. Jonah handed her his own fine linen handkerchief and she mopped her face with it. His heart went out to her as she sat huddled and red-eyed in her spoiled finery.
‘Whatever’s happened, I’ll do my best to help,’ he promised the shivering woman.
The door opened, and Miss Jenny entered. Jonah stood up politely, and greeted her eye to eye, for she was remarkably tall, with glossy, dark hair braided into a neat coil on top of her head, adding to her height. She flashed a smile at Jonah, her brown eyes warm, then turned to Louise, crouching beside her chair.
‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘I heard the stage was attacked.’
Louise swallowed, and nodded.
‘And what happened to you?’ Miss Jenny’s voice was soft, but her face hardened as she put a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder.
Louise lifted her head, looking straight forward into space. ‘One of the robbers . . . took me.’ Her face contorted. ‘He recognized me. He said it wouldn’t matter none, as I was just a whore and I’d open up for anyone as had the money.’
‘Didn’t the men on the coach stand up for you?’ Jonah demanded indignantly.
‘The tall newspaperman, Robinson, he said something, an’ he was nice to me afterwards, but the bandits had guns on them,’ Louise told him.
Jonah frowned, his mouth drawing into a narrow line. ‘Can’t blame them for not wanting to tackle armed men, I guess,’ he admitted. ‘But that bandit had no right to take you against your will.’
Louise flushed. ‘He wasn’t really so bad. It hurts some but at least he didn’t hit me.’ Her voice grew increasingly bitter. ‘It was the way the other people looked at me afterwards. They mostly acted like I wasn’t there, or nothing had happened to me. That Mrs. Thompson got more sympathy than I did, and the bandits never even laid a finger on her.’
Jenny sighed. ‘I’m sorry. You know that’s the way lots of folk look at us. You can have tonight off and rest.’
Louise shook her head. ‘I’ll have a bath; that’ll fix me up.’
‘Jenny’s right. You should take care of yourself,’ Jonah said.
Louise looked him right in the eye. ‘My ma and pa and brother died of the fever when I was eleven. Some neighbours took me in, but they made it clear I had to earn my keep. I scrubbed, cooked, cleaned and looked after the hens just to have old clothes and dry, stale food. When I got to fourteen, their son started on at me to sleep with him. When I refused, he said he’d tell folks I’d stolen goods and I’d be sent to jail. I figured that if I had to sleep with a man, I could get a better pay than hand-me-down clothes and leftover food.’
‘I stole some money from them and bought a ticket to Kansas City. I went to the fanciest whorehouse I could find and asked to work there. I’ve been taking care of myself ever since. So long as men pay me good money for sex, I’ll sleep with them, but I’m saving it, so one day I can stop doing it, and won’t need to rely on anyone to help me because I’ll have enough money to keep me for the rest of my life.’
Jonah nodded. ‘You’ve sure got grit; I reckon you’ll make it. What do you mean to do with yourself when you quit this life?’
Louise paused, then smiled. ‘Lie on satin sheets and eat cream-cakes,’ she said firmly.
Jonah and Jenny laughed.
‘That’s as good an ambition as any, and better than most,’ Jonah said.
Louise drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. ‘Well, it won’t happen unless I pick myself up and get on with it.’ She rose and turned to Jenny. ‘I really would like to have a bath, though.’
‘I’ll send Susie up with hot water when it’s ready.’
‘I’d better sponge and press these clothes,’ Louise added, looking down at her outfit. She made an impatient sound. ‘I forgot; they stole my brooch. It was a present from a nice gentleman in Kansas City.’ She stopped and sniffed suddenly, blinking back tears, then blew her nose fiercely. ‘Thank you,’ she said to Jonah, gesturing with the soggy handkerchief. ‘I’ll return this when it’s clean.’
‘There’s no rush,’ Jonah reassured her. ‘I’m going to search for those sons-of-bitches who thought they could do what they liked to you. They’ll learn different when I catch up with them.’
‘I don’t think you can shame him in the same way,’ Louise said strongly. ‘But iffen you hold him down, I’ll hurt him. That will do.’ With a nod to them both, she stalked from the room.
‘Robinson?’
The tall newspaperman turned at the sound of his name. A handsome, well-dressed man rose from the green plush couch in the foyer of the Colorado Hotel, where Robinson was returning after settling his things in his room, and moved towards him. Robinson noted the matched guns with a quick glance and his reporter’s instincts twitched in anticipation. He smiled as he shook the hand offered.
‘I’m Jonah Durrell,’ the handsome man said. ‘I wanted to thank you for your kindness to Miss Louise, on the stage this afternoon.’
‘You mean Miss Waterford, yeah?’ Robinson replied. ‘It was most unfortunate that that robber recognized her. Well, I don’t know for sure if he was correct about her profession?’
‘He was,’ Jonah admitted. ‘And it will be most unfortunate for him when I find him.’ He gestured towards the hotel bar. ‘Care for a drink?’
‘Thank you.’
As Jonah went to the bar, Robinson chose a table in a quiet corner and sat down. Pulling notebook and pencil from his pocket, he made a few notes, then put them on the table.
Jonah soon appeared with two beers, and put them down before sliding himself gracefully into the other chair. Robinson realized that he was sprawled inelegantly in his own, and made an effort to sit upright and pull in his long limbs. As he noted the other man adjusting the set of his gunbelt, Robinson suddenly remembered how he knew his name.
‘Jonah Durrell, you’re a manhunter, yeah?’ Robinson asked. ‘I saw your name in a report in a newspaper when I was passing through Denver last year.’
Jonah smiled. ‘A Denver paper? I didn’t know I was being spoken of that far from here. I mostly work in the San Juans.’
‘I’m a correspondent for the New-York Tribune,’ Robinson told him, his mind working fast. ‘I should be most interested in hearing about your experiences, Mr. Durrell. I could make a most fascinating letter for the paper, yeah?’
‘Would it include my picture?’ Jonah asked, a little eagerly.
‘I could certainly send a photograph for the artists to see, but it would be the editor’s decision.’
‘I’m sure he’d agree. After all, a picture of me is bound to increase circulation amongst your female readers,’ Jonah said, with a shameless smile.
Robinson was taken aback for a moment, then saw the humour in Jonah’s dark eyes. He laughed. ‘If they don’t want your picture for my letter, they could use it to advertise hair tonic, yeah?’
Jonah laughed too. ‘If they want to use it for an advertisement, I’d better get paid for it.’
With the ice broken, they both sampled their beer. Jonah put his glass back on the table.
‘I’m happy to talk to you, Robinson, for your paper, but I’d like some information from you in return. I want to find the men who held up the stage – particularly the one who raped Miss Louise. I need all the information you can give me about the hold-up and the bandits.’
Robinson nodded, and exchanged his glass for his notebook. ‘I wrote down my impressions immediately afterwards. The men wore bandannas over their faces, so I couldn’t make out much of their features, but I recorded what I could see, to tell the law, afterwards.’
‘Good.’ Jonah produced a small notebook of his own and a silver pencil. ‘May I copy your notes?’
‘Only if you read shorthand, I’m afraid.’ Robinson flipped open his notebook.
Jonah studied the series of squiggles. ‘My father writes like that.’
‘Is he a reporter?’
‘No. A doctor.’
By the time Robinson’s detailed notes had been transcribed into Jonah’s neat longhand, the beers were almost finished. Jonah read the notes back to himself and thought for a few moments before speaking.
‘The bandits had two mules with pack saddles with them?’
Robinson nodded. ‘They went for that money-chest right away, yeah? They didn’t look in the rear boot or at the goods stowed on top. They didn’t even take that much from the passengers, just the cash money we had on us, and Gibson’s gold watch. They didn’t bother with my old silver one,’ he added, indicating the silver chain that showed a watch in his waistcoat pocket. ‘Fortunately, I had the wit to hide the substance of my cash money inside the coach and they didn’t bother searching that. However, I believe that they were acquainted with the fact of the money-chest being on the stagecoach.’
‘I was thinking that myself,’ Jonah agreed. ‘So how did they know it was there?’
‘It would be useful to know who owned the chest. I expect it must be a bank or a mine to need that much gold coin,’ Robinson said. ‘If we knew where it was destined for, we could find out who knew it was going to be on that stage. Unless of course it was a regular delivery, for a payday, yeah?’
‘You’d have to be as dumb as a shovel to put your payroll on the same coach every month,’ Jonah remarked. ‘Then again, some folks are, even them that run a business. I reckon Marshal Tapton will know where the money was set for by now; I can ask him.’ He paused and considered for a moment. ‘Folk might talk to a newspaperman that wouldn’t talk to a manhunter. If you’re willing to help me out some here, you could get some fine material for your papers.’
Robinson’s smile was wide and engaging. ‘I’d sure admire to work with you, Mr. Durrell.’
‘It’s Jonah to my friends.’
‘My first name’s Hulton, but my friends call me Robinson.’ The newspaperman held his hand out, and Jonah shook it.
‘Let’s go see the marshal, then,’ Jonah said. He finished up his beer, Robinson following his good example, and they left the hotel together.
Marshal Tapton told them that the stolen money was the payroll of the Red Horse Mine. He also gave them a list of the items stolen from the passengers: Miss Louise’s brooch wasn’t included, as she hadn’t spoken to the marshal on arriving in town. Neither Jonah nor Robinson recalled its loss, remembering only that she’d been raped. Robinson spent a while looking through the marshal’s wanted notices, but he didn’t confidently recognize any of the men described.
As they strolled back to the Hotel Colorado, where Jonah was also staying, the afternoon sunlight was turning to evening. The soft glow of oil lamps was showing in windows along Panhandle Street. A few stores had closed, but others were still open to get trade from those who had been busy during the daylight hours. Music and voices carried from the saloons along the street, competing with the ever-present rumble of ore-processing machinery in the nearest mines. Jonah indicated a tall, well-built house on the other side of the street.
‘That’s Miss Jenny’s parlour house,’ he said.
As they looked, a young woman dressed in a modest, maid’s outfit appeared at one of the ground floor windows to draw the deep, crimson curtains. She carefully left a small gap to show a red-shaded lamp within.
‘It looks a regular, respectable establishment,’ Robinson commented.
‘Miss Jenny runs a very respectable house of ill-repute,’ Jonah answered. ‘And she’s one of the finest women I know. She does like her visitors to have an introduction or recommendation, but I’m happy to speak for you.’
‘Oh, er . . . when were you planning to visit?’
‘Tonight.’ Jonah glanced at his companion. ‘I beg your pardon if you object to visiting parlour houses?’
Robinson shook his head. ‘Well, no. I do feel the need of a little – sport – now and again and I find it less awkward to attend a place where it’s a straightforward business transaction, rather than trying to attract the company of a saloon girl, or suchlike.’
‘Miss Jenny runs a clean place, looks after her girls and helps them get a bit of education if they need it, so they can marry well or set up a business of their own.’
‘It appears that you are well acquainted with Miss Jenny?’ Robinson enquired.
Jonah nodded. ‘From when I first came to Motherlode this spring. A saloonkeeper was trying to scare her into letting him into her business, but I helped her out. Only helped her, mind; she’s sure got grit. She’s someone any man would admire to know, and a friend worth having. I like to visit her place just for the company.’
‘That business with the saloonkeeper sounds like a story worth hearing,’ Robinson prompted.
Jonah laughed. ‘Forget about your newspaper articles for a piece. Let’s get a bite to eat, get ourselves bathed and gussied up, and go enjoy some pleasant company.’
So saying, he led the way into the hotel, Robinson following with a last glance over his shoulder at the house with the red lamp in the window.
CHAPTER THREE
It was fully dark by the time the two men crossed the street again. Motherlode was in its full night-time swing, with the saloons, dance hall and pool hall all doing good business. Robinson paid little attention to the general hubbub as Jonah rapped the polished, brass door knocker. A smartly-dressed black man opened the door and greeted Jonah by name in friendly terms.
‘Good evening, Albert,’ Jonah replied as they entered. ‘This is a friend of mine.’
Albert nodded at Robinson and indicated a door t
o the right of the hall. ‘Please come through, gentlemen.’
The parlour house was as well appointed as the hotel, and cosier. The hall had striped wallpaper, decorated with tasteful silhouettes of female heads. A small, mahogany table held a vase of wild flowers and an ashtray, and the air carried the mingled scents of perfume, tobacco and furniture polish. Someone was playing a waltz on a piano in a room partially visible through an archway on the left of the hall.
They followed Albert through to a room where half a dozen or so young women were gathered. The carpet, draperies, wallpaper and ornaments all combined for a comforting, homelike feel, aided by the light sound of the women’s voices. Even the fact that the pictures were of naked women didn’t stop Robinson from suddenly being aware of the lack of pleasant company, especially female company, in his everyday life. One of the women rose as they entered, and he turned towards her, then simply stared for a few seconds in surprise. Fortunately, she was approaching Jonah first, and Robinson had time to collect himself before she turned to him, her eyes almost on a level with his own.
‘Miss Jenny, this is my friend, Hulton F. Robinson,’ Jonah made the introduction. ‘He’s agreed to help me in finding the men who attacked Miss Louise.’
Robinson took Miss Jenny’s hand and bowed. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
He had never before met a woman so close to his own height and it felt downright odd to him. Jenny, however, seemed quite comfortable with her height. As Robinson politely tried to conceal his reaction, he noticed a mischievous gleam in her dark eyes that suggested she was amused by his discomfort, rather than embarrassed.
‘I’m delighted to meet someone I can talk to without both of us getting a crick in our necks, yeah?’ Robinson added, with a smile.
Jenny laughed, acknowledging the joke. ‘It does make a change,’ she agreed.
‘How is Miss Waterford?’ Robinson asked, more seriously.
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