“Pleased to meet you, Mayor,” Pearlie said.
Smoke turned his attention to the man dressed in black, who, unlike Kennedy, had not stood at their approach. He was staring at Smoke with eyes that could best be described as flat and featureless.
“And this fearsome-looking gentleman is City Marshal Frank Bodine,” Smoke said, continuing the introductions.
“County Marshal Bodine,” Kennedy said.
“County Marshal?” Smoke replied, unfamiliar with the term.
“We have a sheriff, but he never leaves his office in Rawlins, and he has no deputies. The result of the sheriff’s inactivity is that the residents of Carbon County are left without any type of law enforcement.”
“Yes, come to think of it, that’s exactly what Jim Harris said,” Smoke replied. “He said you were trying to come up with a way to extend the town marshal’s jurisdiction.”
“And I have done so. I didn’t want to make Marshal Bodine a deputy sheriff and thus subservient to the sheriff up in Rawlins, so I made him the county marshal.”
“How were you able to do that? Legally, I mean.”
“I have filed with the territorial capital in Cheyenne our intention to incorporate the entire county, except for the towns of Rawlins, Douglas, and Warm Springs, into the town of Mule Gap.”
“And they have approved that?”
“It hasn’t been disapproved,” Kennedy replied with a smile.
Smoke laughed. “I have to give you credit, Warren, you do seem to have away of getting things done. And I agree that the citizens of the county do need some protection by the law. But this is an awfully large area for one man to handle.”
“That’s why Marshal Bodine has recruited so many deputies,” Kennedy replied. “I have—that is, the town of Mule Gap has—authorized a strength often deputy marshals.”
“That’s quite a sizeable police force.”
“Yes, but as you say, Carbon County is a large area to cover.”
Smoke turned his attention to the man in black. “So tell me, Marshal Bodine. Are you working on finding the kidnapped children and getting them returned to their families?”
“You know about the kidnappings?” Kennedy asked.
“Yes. A few days ago a boy was taken from a neighboring ranch. In trying to defend him, his father was shot.”
“Oh,” Kennedy replied. “Was he killed?”
“No, he survived the shooting.”
“That is good to hear. What is he doing about recovering his son?” Kennedy asked. “I mean, I hope he is going to pay the ransom.”
“Why would you say that?”
“We have been experiencing a rash of these kidnappings. The ransom has been paid on four of the children, and they have been returned safely to their families. That is a favorable outcome for all concerned.”
“Except the families who may be out their life savings,” Smoke said.
“Surely, Smoke, you aren’t putting mere money above the life of the child, are you?” Kennedy challenged.
“No, of course I’m not doing that, but it does seem to me that the most favorable outcome would be to catch the men who are doing this, free the children, and put the men in prison.”
“Yes, of course that would be the most favorable outcome, and I believe that, in time, Marshal Bodine will be able to do just that. But until then, don’t you agree with me that the best thing for these families to do is pay the ransom?”
“Under the circumstances, yes,” Smoke replied. “I do believe it is Sam Condon’s intention to pay the ransom.”
“Yes, well, if Mr. Condon can afford it, that is no doubt the best and safest way to have his son released without harm,” Kennedy said. “But I am interested. What brings you to my town? Does it have anything to do with the kidnapping of the Condon boy?”
“No, our visit has nothing to do with that. Pearlie and I just delivered a bull to Jim Harris. Being here at the time of the boy’s kidnapping is purely coincidental.”
“I see. Harris, no doubt, paid you in cash again because he won’t use my bank.”
“You know him well,” Smoke said.
“Evidently I don’t know him well enough. I have been totally incapable of talking him into using my bank.”
“Jim Harris is a stubborn man, all right.”
“Will you be staying with us tonight?” Kennedy asked. “You know, I own half of the Del Rey Hotel, and I think I can promise you a comfortable stay.”
“We have somewhere else we have to be tonight, but we’ll be back tomorrow and will probably spend one or two nights,” Smoke said.
“Oh? Why so long? Not that you aren’t welcome,” Kennedy added with a smile. “As you have no doubt learned by now, I am a businessman, and having a couple guests in my hotel for a few nights is always a good thing.”
“Warren Kennedy looking for every way he can to make another dollar? You don’t say,” Smoke teased. “As you may know, Sally is in New York now, so I’ve no real reason to get back home so quickly. Pearlie and I thought we might take advantage of our time up here to get in a little hunting.”
“For the kidnapped boy?” Bodine asked.
“No, that would be your job, so I’ll leave that up to you,” Smoke said. “I was thinking more along the lines of pronghorn deer.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Rex Theater, New York City
Rosanna MacCallister as Dame Sara stood in the light at center stage, holding a dagger before her. “Oh noble sire, that you would have given your life in defense of my honor—honor which I do not have—has left me prostrate with grief and shame. Grief, because I cannot imagine a world without you, and shame because the honor for which you gave your life does not exist.
“Yes, Albert, it shames me to say that I have long hidden the truth from you. For you see, I am a woman debased. I am not, as you believe, the daughter of nobility. I was to a lowly servant woman born, my birth killing the very woman who had given me life. I was taken as their own by the nobles whom my mother served, Lord and Lady Montjoy. Would but the blood from the thrust of this dagger wash clean the stain on my soul.” She raised the dagger above her breast.
Andrew MacCallister as Lord Albert Cairns rushed in from stage left. “Wait. Do not harm yourself because of foolish pride and wrong intelligence! The news that I was slain was inaccurately reported. I live yet, and I have long known of your humble origins. Do you not believe that your noble upbringing has made you as noble as one to the manor born? It is not who you were, but who you are that has earned my love.”
Dame Sara dropped the dirk and the two embraced at center stage.
As the curtain closed, the theater erupted with applause and cheers. Sally and Cal had been given seats in the orchestra section of the theater, and they rose with the others to give the two actors upon the stage a standing ovation.
The curtains opened again, and all the secondary players rushed out to take their curtain call, their appearances on stage in inverse order of the significance of their roles. After taking their bows, the actors moved to either side of the stage and held their arms out toward the two principals of the show, Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister. The stage manager hurried onto the stage carrying a large bouquet of yellow roses, which he presented to Rosanna.
Again, the applause swelled.
* * *
Across the street from the theater, Gallagher, Brockway, Kelly, and O’Leary watched as the patrons left the theater. The theatergoers were talking about the play they had just seen.
“Isn’t Rosanna MacCallister just the most beautiful woman you ever saw?”
“It is the skill of the stage makeup artist that causes her to look so beautiful.”
“If she wasn’t already beautiful, no makeup artistry could make her so.”
“We’re a-lookin’ for the same woman we saw gettin’ off the train, right?” Brockway asked.
“Yes.”
“I don’t see her.”
“She was sitting down front. S
he will be one of the last to leave,” Gallagher said as he handed a small brown bottle and a handkerchief to Brockway. “Do you know how to use this?”
“Yeah, I know,” Brockway replied.
“I’m goin’ on ahead,” Gallagher said. “When she comes out, you three follow her.”
“All right.”
He left the other three and hurried on ahead, positioning himself between the Rex Theater and the Fifth Avenue Hotel.
* * *
“Mrs. Jensen?” one of the theater ushers asked, approaching Sally and Cal just as they were rising from their seats.
“Yes?” Sally replied.
“Mr. MacCallister has issued an invitation for you two to join the company backstage.”
“Oh, how nice of him,” Sally said.
“If you would come with me, please, madam.”
Sally and Cal followed the usher through a small door just to the left of the stage, then wandered through the labyrinth of flats, props, ropes, and miscellaneous components that were necessary to stage a major play before a sophisticated New York audience.
“Ah!” Cal gasped, jumping back in shock when he saw a severed human head. “What’s that?”
“Do not be concerned, sir,” the usher replied. “That is the head of Yorick.”
“Who? Well, what’s his head doing here?”
Sally chuckled, then reached for the head and holding it in front of her, began reciting. “‘Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy; he hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar.’”
“Oh, most excellent, madam!” the theater usher said, clapping his hands. “You know your Shakespeare.”
“Not really. A few lines from Hamlet, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet is all. Just enough to allow me to show off from time to time.”
As they were talking, Cal was making a closer examination of the head. “Oh,” he said with an understanding smile. “This isn’t real.”
“They used to use real heads, but they didn’t last long,” Sally said.
“What?” Cal gasped.
Sally laughed out loud. “I’m teasing you, Cal.”
As they continued to explore, they came to an area that was reserved for the players—a large common room with mirrors and dressing screens for the “bit actors” and dressing rooms for those with larger roles. The doors leading to the dressing rooms for Andrew and Rosanna each had a star and their name, but at the moment the two stars of the play were sharing the common room with the others.
Everyone was still keyed up from the performance, and they were laughing and talking excitedly. Andrew called for attention, and everyone grew quiet.
“I would like to congratulate each and every one of you,” he said. “You did well as you strutted and fretted your hour upon the stage.”
“But,” Rosanna interrupted, holding up her finger, “unlike the next line in the bard’s famous soliloquy, I predict that all of you will be heard again.”
“Who could not do well when playing with the two best thespians in New York theater, Andrew and Rosanna MacCallister?” one of the supporting actors declared, holding his arm out toward the brother and sister.
The other actors applauded.
“Sally, how wonderful of you and your friend to come to our opening night,” Rosanna said when she saw Sally and Cal.
“Are you kidding? Who could resist such an invitation?” Sally replied.
“Yes, if you are living in the city. But, my goodness, you came two thousand miles.”
“It was a good excuse to visit New York again,” Sally replied. “And to show the city to a young man that Smoke and I have come to regard as family.”
“Yes, seeing the city through the eyes of someone who is seeing it for the first time can be quite exhilarating,” Rosanna replied
“Sally, will you be taking dinner tonight with Rosanna, me, and some of the others?” Andrew asked.
“We would be most happy to,” Sally said.
“We’ll gather at Delmonico’s at midnight,” Andrew said. “The restaurant will be closed then to all except our private party. I will give the maître d’ your names so that you may be assured entry.”
“At midnight?”
“Yes. If that is too late for you, I understand.”
“No, that’ll be fine,” Sally said. “It will give Cal and me time to stop by our rooms at the hotel.”
“Good. We’ll see you then.”
* * *
“What the hell?” O’Leary asked. “How come she ain’t come out yet? You think maybe there’s a back door to that place?”
“I don’t know, there might be but . . . wait. That’s her comin’ out right now,” Brockway said.
“Who’s that man with her?” O’Leary said.”
“I don’t know, but he was on the train with her,” Brockway replied.
“So what?” Kelly asked.
“So, what are we going to do with him? I mean, he’ll be in the way, won’t he?”
“He won’t be in the way.”
“What do you mean, ‘he won’t be in the way’? He’s there, ain’t he?”
“He won’t be in the way, ’cause we’ll kill ’im.”
* * *
“Your friends are good people,” Cal said as he and Sally started the ten-block walk from the theater to the hotel. “They don’t seem like New York people at all.”
Sally laughed. “What do you mean, ‘they don’t seem like New York people’? What are New York people like?”
“I’ve seen them in Denver before. They’re just sort of very full of themselves.”
“Well, Rosanna and Andrew may live in New York now, but they’re from Colorado. Don’t forget, they are Falcon MacCallister’s brother and sister.”
“Yeah, that’s true, isn’t it? I forgot.”
“Did you enjoy the play?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am, I sure did. Why, that was about the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen. I mean, the way ever’one was upon that stage, why, it was like we was”—Cal paused, then, with a smile, corrected his grammar—“like we were right there in the same room with them, just watching ever’thing that was going on.”
“That’s the illusion brilliant thespians can create,” Sally replied. “And thank you for correcting your grammar.”
“Yes, ma’am. Well, bein’ that you”—he paused for a second—“were once a schoolteacher, I know what a store you put in proper English, so I try to use good grammar whenever I can.”
“Very good, Cal, very good,” Sally said.
“I think it’s funny that we’re goin’ to be eatin’ with them at the Delmonico restaurant,” Cal said.
“Funny? Why do you say that? What’s funny about having a late dinner at Delmonico’s?”
“Well, think about it, Miz Sally. There’s a Delmonico’s in Big Rock ’n there’s one here in New York. I mean, when we go back ’n tell Mr. DeWeese that there’s a restaurant in New York that’s got the same name as his, why, he’ll more ’n likely be proud of that, don’t you think?”
Sally laughed. “He more than likely will be.”
As the two continued their walk back to the hotel, Cal happened to notice in the window of a closed store the reflection of three men following them. It seemed too late for any casual pedestrians, but there had been a full house for the play. Also there were other theaters nearby, and their audiences had turned out onto the street at about the same time, so it was possible that those men were part of the theater crowd.
Using that reasoning, Cal discounted the three men, but a little later he caught another glimpse of them and something in their actions alerted him. It looked to him as if the men might be trying to avoid being seen. Why would that be, unless they were up to no good?
“Miz Sally, I think maybe we ought to step it up a bit,” Cal said.
“What do you mean?”
“There are some men on the street behind us.”
Sally chuckled. “Cal, it isn’t unusual that there would be people on the street. Over two million people live in New York.”
“Yes, ma’am, but it’s not the rest of the two million people I’m worryin’ about. It’s the three men that are behind us. They’re actin’ kind of funny.”
“Funny how?”
“Like they don’t want to be seen.”
Sally looked back and as she did, the two men stepped into an alcove. It might have been a coincidence, but Cal might also be right. She got the same feeling of apprehension that he was experiencing. “All right. If it’ll make you feel better . . .”
“I’d feel just a whole lot better if I had my gun with me,” Cal said.
“So would I,” Sally agreed.
As they approached the end of the block, a man suddenly stepped in front of them. He was holding a pistol, and Cal automatically went for his own gun. But there was no gun there. His gun was back in his suitcase in the hotel room.
“Just hold it right there.” The man smiled, though it was a smile without humor.
“You don’t really expect us to be carrying around a great deal of money, do you?” Sally asked. “If this is a holdup, I’m afraid you are going to be quite disappointed.”
“Oh, this isn’t a holdup. No ma’am, we have something else in mind for you, Mrs. Jensen.”
“What?” Sally replied, shocked to be addressed by name.
Many people back in Colorado knew her, even in Denver. That could be expected as she was married to one of the biggest ranchers in the state. Smoke Jensen’s fame went considerably further than the mere fact that he was a successful rancher. His skill with a gun was unmatched.
But she wasn’t in Colorado. She was in New York. And what were the chances of someone in New York knowing her by name? “How is it that you know my name?”
“We have plans for you,” the man said.
“The hell you do,” Cal said. “If you hurt—” That was as far as he got before he was hit just above his right ear by something hard and heavy. He went down.
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