“Hotel?”
“Where I ... stayed ... with him ... when he wanted me....”
She kept her head down, her eyes not meeting his, and it was just as well. Clenching his fists, his eyes went cold with fury, as he thought of her with Clell Shanklin. Fighting to gain control of himself, he closed his eyes, for again he was seeing Molly Tremayne. His face was expressionless when she again looked at him. She got into her shoes, and standing up, pulled the dress over her head.
“Would you button it for me?” she asked. “My arms are so sore ...”
He fumbled with the buttons until she laughed at his clumsiness, causing him to fumble all the more, for she even laughed as he remembered Molly laughing....
“Don’t wear the hat and the veil,” he said. “It would only make you seem all the more obvious.”
Reaching Delmonico’s, Nathan found Sheriff Harrington was there. It seemed as good a time as any to introduce Melanie Gavin. He spoke to the girl quietly before they entered the cafe.
“We’re going to join Sheriff Harrington. He’s a good man, and he’s been a friend to me. I want you to meet him.”
“No,” she said. “Not now.”
“Now,” Nathan said, taking her arm.
Harrington slid back his chair and stood as they approached his table.
“Sheriff Harrington,” said Nathan, “this is Melanie Gavin. May we join you?”
“Please do,” Harrington said. “Pleased to meet you, Melanie.”
For a while, Melanie said nothing, her eyes on the table. Gradually, however, Nathan and the sheriff gained her interest, recalling humorous events involving themselves and others. By the time their supper was served, she was laughing, and when the meal ended, she seemed genuinely sorry to part with the friendly sheriff.
“You survived that,” Nathan said. “Now we’re going to the mercantile and buy you some clothes.”
“I have no money.”
“You’re in luck,” said Nathan, “because I do.”
She was reluctant at first, but her eyes sparkled as she tried on various dresses, and Nathan found himself enjoying her all the more. She finally settled on three dresses, a pair of shoes, and a bonnet.
“You should have some of these,” Nathan said, steering her toward a big display of women’s underclothes. “Or do you always go jaybird naked under a dress?”
“Only when I leave town in a hurry,” she said.
They returned to the Dodge House, Nathan apprehensive. Were his feelings for this girl genuine, or was he infatuated with her because in so many ways, she reminded him of Molly Tremayne? She hung her new dresses in the closet, admiring them as she did so. The new underclothes she placed in a dresser drawer. She then kicked off her shoes, unbuttoned the dress she wore, and stepped out of it. Uncertainly, Nathan watched her get into bed. Finally, he sat down beside her, and when she spoke, he was unprepared for her bitter words.
“You don’t want me, do you? Well, I don’t blame you. I’m used goods.”
Nathan flung the cover off her and drew her to him, kissing her long and hard. When he let her go, he was breathing hard, and it was a moment before he could speak. When he did, it was his turn to shock her.
“Damn it, Melanie Gavin, I do want you. I’ve wanted you ever since that first time I saw you, in the cafe in Pueblo. Will you marry me?”
For a long moment she said nothing, and even in the poor light from the lamp, he could see the tears on her cheeks. But when she finally spoke, her voice was steady.
“No, I won’t. It’s too late to make an honest woman out of me, and I won’t let you do something you’d regret later. Take me if you want me. It’s the least I can do for a man who’s been kind to me. Believe me, I have some feeling for you, and I’m thankful for it. I never believed I could care for a man again, after ... him....”
It was a dilemma such as Nathan had never faced. Molly Tremayne had been the first woman in his life, and he had taken her without hesitation, only to lose her. Now this woman who reminded him so much of Molly had refused his proposal, leaving him angry and guilt-ridden. Feeling damned if he did and damned if he didn’t, Nathan drew off his boots, unbuckled his gun belt, stepped out of his trousers, and removed his shirt. He then blew out the lamp and got into bed....
When Nathan awoke, the sun was streaming in through the window. Melanie sat with her knees drawn up under her chin, her eyes on him.
“How do you feel?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
“Not nearly as guilty as I expected,” he said.
“Five years ago, I might have said that.”
“Why don’t you put those five years behind you?” said Nathan. “I don’t care about your past or what you were. All I can see is what you are now.”
“And what is that?”
“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life,” Nathan said, meaning it.
“Beauty is only skin deep,” she said. “Perhaps you haven’t looked deep enough.”
“I made up my mind about you last night,” said Nathan, “and nothing you can say or do will changed the way I feel.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “I don’t believe there’s a man alive who will buy the cow when he’s getting the milk for free.”
“Then there’s still something about men you don’t know,” said Nathan. “When a man knows what he wants, he’s willing to pay the price. He wants to own it honestly, and to possess it any other way goes against the grain.”
“Even if it’s already been owned by scum like Clell Shanklin?”
“Even then,” Nathan said, struggling to contain his temper.
She leaned over him, her eyes meeting his. “You’re right, Nathan Stone. I don’t know you. I’ve never known anyone like you. Give me some time. Then, if you still want me ... then perhaps ... I’ll believe.”
“I can wait,” he said, “as long as I don’t have to listen to you relive the last five years. Can you put that behind you and leave it there?”
“With your help, I can,” she replied.
With that admission, all that had been missing the night before fell into place. Nathan no longer attempted to drive memories of Molly Tremayne from his mind. He didn’t know where Molly ended and Melanie began, and he didn’t care.
Nathan spent a week with Melanie before again meeting with Foster Hagerman. There was immediate bad news, as Hagerman told Nathan of the unexpected death of the AT and SF president, Pierce Malone.
“I think it’s time for me to return to Pueblo,” Nathan said.
“Stay as long as you believe necessary,” said Hagerman.
Nathan made known his feelings for Melanie Gavin, arranging for Foster Hagerman and Sheriff Harrington to see to the woman’s welfare while he was away. He left sufficient money with Melanie for her needs, and took a noon train to Pueblo.
Pueblo, Colorado. August 19, 1874
Reaching Pueblo, Nathan went immediately to the Starlight Cafe, only to find it closed, an OUT OF BUSINESS sign posted on the front door. He then checked into a hotel, hoping to attract less attention than he might by staying at the terminal bunkhouse. Nathan had no idea where Elsa Gavin lived, and he set about finding her. He began with the railroad dispatcher, Elbert Grimes.
“Got no idea,” Grimes said. “You might try the county courthouse.”
The suggestion proved valid, but when Nathan found the house, it was locked, and as best he could tell, vacant. As a last resort, he went to Shanklin’s freight yard. Finally, when it seemed nobody was around, he climbed the steps to the dock, only to come face-to-face with a man leaving the office.
“I’m looking for a gent named Shanklin,” Nathan said.
“He ain’t here,” the man said. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing,” said Nathan. “I’ll try another time. When will he be returning?”
“He never bothers tellin’ anybody and I ain’t sure it’s any of your business.”
Nathan left, unsure as to his nex
t move. Finally he returned to the county courthouse and inquired about freight lines. He was given the names of three, including Clell Shanklin’s. He called on Moore’s Freight first, finding the owner, Carlyle Moore, was out of town. Calling on Colbert Lines, he found Taylor Colbert available but uncooperative.
“I got nothin’ to say about Shanklin,” Colbert said. “Now you go about your business and I’ll go about mine.”
Finally, not having any other leads, Nathan called on Sheriff Red Brodie, introducing himself and revealing his position with AT and SF.
“I really need to talk to Clell Shanklin,” Nathan said, “since he has a hauling contract with the mines up near Denver.”
“I reckon he’s in Denver,” Brodie said. “The whole town’s been talking about him, but his freightin’ business had nothin’ to do with it. He’s been sparkin’ the Gavin gal since she was nineteen, and everybody reckoned they’d end up tyin’ the knot. Well, a little more’n a week ago, the gal just plumb disappeared. Day before yesterday, old Shanklin just ups and marries Elsa, the gal’s mother. She closed that cafe pronto, and her and Shanklin lit out for Denver. I reckon nobody will be seein’ him for a while.”
“Thanks, Sheriff,” said Nathan. He went to the railroad dispatcher’s office and sent a telegram to Foster Hagerman, at Dodge City:
Send names of mines and persons responsible for silver shipments stop. Riding to Denver.
He signed his name and waited for a response. Within minutes, he had the names of four mines and their superintendents. He then went to a livery and rented a horse and saddle.
“How far to Denver?” he asked the liveryman.
“Hunnert and fifty mile.”
Nathan rode out. The silver mines, as he recalled, were all south of Denver. He really had no idea what he might learn, but he was accomplishing nothing in Pueblo. If nothing else, he might be told of what might be expected in future shipments. He recalled that some shipments left from Denver, on the Kansas-Pacific, which was far more convenient. The hauling of some shipments to Pueblo was for the purpose of confusing train robbers, which accomplished nothing if Shanklin was in cahoots with them. Nathan wondered if the contract involving shipments from Denver was also owned by Shanklin. That was one thing he hoped to learn by visiting the mines in question. He rode into Colorado Springs before sundown and took a room there for the night. At first light he was on the trail. Many of the mines nearest Denver still produced gold, although they were playing out. The silver was being taken from four principal lodes, and they weren’t that widely separated. Nathan hoped he might gather all four superintendents and question them at the same time, rather than meeting them one at a time.
Denver, Colorado. August 24, 1874
Nathan rode to each of the four mines, identified himself, and arranged to meet with all four mine superintendents at the largest of the mines, the Silver Slipper. There was a miner’s shack at the Silver Slipper, and Nathan was given a bunk for the night. Following breakfast, he met with superintendents representing the four mines. There was Bammister of the Silver Slipper, Knowles of the Five Star, Ledbetter of the Half Moon, and Chapman of the Faro.
“Gents,” said Nathan, “I’m here on behalf of the AT and SF. We’re concerned about getting your shipments to Kansas City. We avoided a robbery last time by a last-minute change of schedule, sending your shipment a day early. I’d like to know, for our sake and yours, how and when the next shipment will be going.”
“October fifth,” Bammister said, “by the Kansas-Pacific.”
“Who has your hauling contract from the mines to the railroad?” Nathan asked.
“Shanklin,” Bammister replied. “Same as the shipments on the AT and SF.”
“Suppose I tell you that we suspect Shanklin of selling you out to thieves?”
“I’d want to see some proof,” said Knowles. “He turned in a low bid for the job.”
“I don’t have any proof,” Nathan said, “but with your help, I believe I can get some.”
“Depends on what we got to do,” said Ledbetter.
“You’ll go ahead with your shipment from Denver as planned,” Nathan said, “but with some changes. Shanklin will deliver that shipment. Those bags will be loaded with sand and sealed. The real shipment, about which Shanklin will know nothing, will go to Kansas City on the AT and SF. I’ll bring a wagon and some line riders from Pueblo on October first and your shipment will go out on schedule.”
“So we send a bogus shipment and a genuine shipment,” Chapman said, “and you’re telling us that the real one will go through, while the bogus one is stolen.”
“That’s what I’m telling you,” said Nathan. “Send your genuine shipment from Denver, and you’ll lose it. Can you afford the risk?”
“Hell, no,” Bammister said. “I know you ain’t rode all the way up here without good reason. If Shanklin’s sellin’ us out, we need to know. I say we go with Stone’s plan.”
“Damn right,” the others agreed in one voice. “Go with the AT and SF.”
CHAPTER 19
Hays, Kansas. August 25, 1874
“Damn it, Elsa, I know what I’m doing,” Clell Shanklin said irritably. “Gonzolos and his boys was mad as hell when that last shipment slipped through a day early. Now I got to redeem myself, and this Kansas-Pacific shipment should do it.”
“This time, you can’t blame it on Melanie,” Elsa snapped. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I told you what she had to say when I broke up with her,” Shanklin lied. “She knows it’s you and me, and she’s gone off to sulk. She wants nothing more to do with you. Why do you reckon you’ve had no answer to your telegrams?”
“I suppose I’m getting what I deserve,” said Elsa. “Ten days ago, I had a business of my own, a life of my own, and a daughter. Now all I have are the clothes on my back, a room in a grubby plains hotel, and a husband who’s a damned thief.”
Shanklin laughed. “Elsa, Elsa, you took me for better or worse, and you knew what the ‘worse’ was, goin’ in. I’m a thief, but by God, I tried all the other ways, and you know what I got? A few mules, some secondhand wagons, and a never-ending drudgery of hauling other men’s silver and gold. I aim to end up rich or dead.”
“And I have an idea which it’s going to be,” said Elsa. “How much longer do we have to squat here, waiting for this mangy coyote of a Mexican outlaw?”
“Chapa will be here when he gets here,” Shanklin said, “and if you’re smart, you’ll be a mite more cautious how you speak of him when he’s around. Chapa doesn’t appreciate disloyalty, and whatever you think of our plans, you’ll do well to keep your mouth shut.”
When Chapa Gonzolos arrived, he stared at Elsa for a long moment, his expressionless black eyes roaming over her. He was every bit the Spaniard, with flat-crowned black hat, polished black boots, and black frock coat. His trousers were dark, and instead of a belt, there was a crimson sash around his middle. His shirt was white, with frills, and he had a rawhide thong around his neck. Down his back, Indian-fashion, hung a formidable Bowie knife. While he had no visible weapon, there was an ominous bulge beneath his coat, under each armpit. He spoke in clipped, precise English, lapsing into Spanish only when his venomous temper got the best of him. Few men who had fallen victim to his rapid-fire Spanish had lived to talk about it. Following his initial rude stare, he turned his attention to Shanklin, ignoring Elsa.
“Ah, Senor Shanklin, the mulo hombre whose trains run on silent tracks and whose silver is so fine the eye cannot see.”
“Damn it, Chapa,” Shanklin said, “that wasn’t my fault. The information was good when I gave it to you. The railroad changed the schedule at the last minute.”
“You will see that it does not happen a second time,” said Gonzolos. He didn’t speak of the consequences, nor did he need to. Clell Shanklin understood. He swallowed hard and spoke.
“The next shipment goes out October fifth, on the Kansas-Pacific,” Shanklin said, “and you should st
op the train a hundred miles west of here, just after it leaves Colorado. You will need two wagons. You will be four hundred and twenty-five miles east of Santa Fe.”
“Seventeen days,” said Gonzolos. “Time enough for the law to follow.”
“The nearest town will be Hays, where we are right now,” Shanklin replied. “Six men only. One to drive each wagon, the other four as guards. The rest of your men will follow the wagons, prepared for the emboscada.”
Gonzolos nodded, and without another word, stepped out the door.
“God,” said Elsa, “he gives me the creeps. He reminds me of an undertaker.”
Shanklin laughed. “Under certain circumstances, that’s what he is.”
“And you’re going to double-cross him,” Elsa said.
“In a manner of speaking,” said Shanklin, “but not money-wise. We’ll be riding to Santa Fe for our share of the money, and as far as Chapa knows, I’ll return to Pueblo and continue hauling for the mines. That’s to prevent him from double-crossing me. He expects me to be there, feeding him information on future mine shipments. But all I need is one good stake, and we’ll be on our way to California.”
“I’ve heard that before,” Elsa said. “Melanie threw that in my face five years ago.”
“She lost the faith,” said Shanklin. “She could have been where you are right now.”
Elsa laughed. “Lucky me.”
Dodge City, Kansas. August 28, 1874
“When I leave Pueblo October first,” Nathan said, “I will need at least half a dozen armed men to guard the shipment on the return trip, and one teamster to drive the second wagon. I aim for us to reach the mines Sunday. We’ll load and immediately begin the drive south. We should be in Pueblo October seventh.”
“Then we’ll get the shipment on the six o’clock eastbound the next morning,” said Foster Hagerman. “I’ll arrange to have the men and the wagons ready when you reach the terminal in Pueblo.”
The Killing Season Page 26