Day of Reckoning

by William W. Johnstone

  “Hey!” Pollard bellowed out.

  The shout startled the night clerk and he came forward with a jerk, the front two legs of the chair popping loudly on the floor.

  “What?” he called out, startled by the intrusion. “What is it?”

  “What room is MacCallister in?”

  “Good heavens, man, it’s”—the clerk looked around at the clock that stood against the wall—“after eleven o’clock.”

  “I don’t care what time it is, I want to know what room MacCallister is in.”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “He’s my brother-in-law.”

  “It’s my job to protect our guests from any unwanted intrusions, but seeing as he is your brother-in-law, I suppose it will be all right. But it’s much too late to be disturbing Mr. MacCallister now.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to disturb him now. But I plan to have breakfast with him ’n my two sisters tomorrow, ’n he asked me to come up to his room first thing in the mornin’.”

  “Why didn’t he give you his room number?”

  “On account of when he told me that, he hadn’t yet checked into the hotel, so he didn’t know the room number.”

  “All right, I suppose, under those circumstances, that I can give you the information,” the clerk replied. He glanced down at the registration book. “Well, let’s see here, it looks like he has two rooms. Yes, one for him and his wife, and one for his wife’s sister.”

  “Yeah, well both them women is my sisters.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. MacCallister are in room two oh five, and the young lady is in two oh seven.”

  “Thank you. I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

  “Not unless you are here before six o’clock. I get off then,” the night clerk replied.

  “Then I reckon I won’t see you again. It’s more’n likely, I won’t be comin’ up to his room anytime a’fore seven o’clock.”

  “I should think not,” the clerk replied. He picked up the newspaper and resumed reading as Pollard walked away from the front desk.

  Pollard glanced up the stairs as he left the hotel.

  * * *

  It was nearly two in the morning and Pollard, driving a buckboard, turned up the alley between Pioneer and Thomas Avenue. He had chosen a buckboard so he could haul the girl away, once he had her. The alley was lined with outhouses on both sides, so the smell was strong, but it wasn’t anything Pollard wasn’t used to. He passed by Dunnigan’s Meat Market, Chip’s Shoe Alley, and Buckner-Ragsdale’s Mercantile, then stopped behind the Del Rey Hotel. This way he could enter through the back door, avoiding the lobby. This would also give him a way of bringing the girl out without being seen.

  A few minutes earlier he had broken into Dr. Urban’s office where he stole a bottle of chloroform. It was his intention to use the chloroform to knock the girl out so she would be easy to handle.

  Tying his horse off to the railing on the stoop, he stepped up to the back door.

  Damn! It was locked.

  Pollard pulled his knife and worked with the lock for a moment, then, with a smile of accomplishment, managed to get the door open.

  Opening the door quietly, he stepped into the hotel, finding himself in the hotel kitchen. That was good, the kitchen was sure to be deserted at this hour, which meant he would be able to do his business without fear of being discovered.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Ina Claire had spoken bravely about having no fear of staying alone, but the truth was this was the first time she had ever been in a hotel, and the whole experience was somewhat disquieting to her. Shortly after going to bed she had been assailed by noises: loud voices from the street, an occasional woman’s screech from the saloon, and even more disturbing, conversation, footsteps, and the sounds of doors being opened and closed in the hotel, right here on this very floor.

  The noises and the unfamiliar situation made her a little nervous, so she dealt with the nervousness by keeping the bedside lantern burning, not too brightly, but with enough light to push away even the corner shadows of the room. She also put the sawed-off shotgun on the bedside table, within easy reach. Comforted by that, she was finally able to go to sleep.

  She had no idea how long she had been asleep when she was awakened by the sound of someone at the door to her room. Was it Meagan? No, it wouldn’t be Meagan, she didn’t have a key to the room and if she had wanted in, she would have knocked or called out to her.

  Maybe it was someone who had the wrong room, and as soon as whoever it was figured out that the key wouldn’t work, they would leave.

  But the key must’ve worked because suddenly the door swung open and a man came in. In the subdued light, she saw that it was the same man who had accosted them in the saloon. She sat up, and the man pulled a knife and held it in front of him.

  “You make one sound, girly, and I’ll slit your throat,” he said menacingly. His face gleamed in the light of the lantern and he looked like a demon from hell. His other hand held a handkerchief, and, even from here, she could smell a strong, medicinal odor, though she had no idea what it might be. The big man held the handkerchief out toward her.

  “What? What is that?” she asked.

  “You’re goin’ to be comin’ with me, little lady. But don’t you be worryin’ none about it. This here will make you go to sleep ’n you won’t know nothin’ about it,” the man said.

  He pressed the handkerchief over her face and Ina Claire’s head began to spin with the cloying odor. Dizzily, she reached out to grab the shotgun, brought it up, shoved the barrel into his stomach, then, just before she passed out, she pulled the trigger.

  * * *

  “What was that?” Duff shouted, sitting up in bed at the sound of the shot.

  “It came from Ina Claire’s room!” Meagan said, her voice filled with dread.

  Duff grabbed his pistol and, still wearing his long johns underwear, raced out into the hall. He saw that Ina Claire’s door was open, and stepping inside, he saw a man lying on top of Ina Claire.

  “Get off her, ye whore’s son!” Duff shouted, grabbing the man by his shoulder and jerking him away. He fell onto the floor, on his back, and Duff saw then that his belly had been opened up. He saw, too, what had caused the wound, for Ina Claire still held the shotgun in her hands.

  “Oh, Duff, is she . . . is she dead?” Meagan asked, clutching her dressing gown about her.

  “I don’t know,” Duff replied. Ina Claire’s eyes were closed, and she, and the bed, were covered with blood.

  “What is it? What happened in here?” another patron who had come to the door asked.

  “What’s going on?” a second patron inquired.

  Duff put his fingers to Ina Claire’s neck and was rewarded with a strong pulse.

  “She’s still alive,” Duff said. He began checking her for wounds and, seeing nothing, realized that all of the blood had come from the man who was lying dead on the floor.

  Ina Claire’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Oh!” she said. “What is it? Why is everyone in my room?”

  “Ina Claire, don’t you remember anything?” Meagan asked.

  “Yes, he . . . he had a knife, and he put something over my face that made me . . . oh! Did I shoot him?”

  “You sure as hell did, little lady,” one of the uninvited men said. “The son of a bitch is lyin’ on the floor now, deader’n a drowned rat.”

  Duff looked back down at the man and saw a knife in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. Picking up the handkerchief, he gave it a whiff, then jerked it away.

  “Chloroform,” he said.

  “What?” Ina Claire asked.

  “Chloroform. It’s what doctors use when they want to put someone out.”

  “Duff, look who that is. That’s the same man who accosted us in the saloon,” Meagan said.

  “You mean he isn’t your brother?” The question came from the only fully dressed person in the room, and Duff recognized him as the clerk who had checke
d them in.

  “And would ye be for tellin’ me why ye think this miserable wretch would be m’ brother?”

  “Not your brother,” the clerk replied. “The brother of the two ladies. At least that’s what he told me when he asked me for your room number.”

  “And you gave it to him?” Meagan asked sharply.

  “Please, miss, I thought he was your brother, and he said he wouldn’t be calling on you until seven in the morning.”

  “Tell me, Wilbur,” one of others said. “Didn’t you think it a little suspicious, him inquiring about room numbers in the middle of the night like this?”

  “It was last night that he asked,” Wilbur replied. “And like I said, he told me that he wouldn’t be calling until seven o’clock in the morning. Who would think that he would do such a thing as this?”

  “Oh, I’m all covered in blood!” Ina Claire said, as if just noticing it.

  “Innkeeper, have you an accommodation with two adjoining rooms?” Duff asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then we shall require such a lodgment. And please bring a bathtub and enough hot water up to our rooms so the young lady can take a bath.”

  “I’m afraid that none of our porters are on hand tonight,” Wilbur replied.

  “Then you do it yourself,” Duff ordered.

  “But I . . .” Wilbur started. He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw the expression on Duff’s face.

  “Yes, sir, I’ll get it done,” he said.

  * * *

  An hour later, Duff sat in one of the rooms of the two-room suite they had been given. For some time, Meagan had been in the other room with Ina Claire. He heard a light knock on the door that separated the two rooms.

  “Aye, come in,” he called.

  Meagan let herself in.

  “She’s in bed now,” Meagan said.

  “How is she doing?”

  “I think she is all right. The incident frightened her of course, and, to wake up covered in blood had to be most disconcerting.”

  “I expect it was. What I can’t understand is what he was doing in her room. One would think ’twas me he would be angry with. If he was going to be slipping into a room to kill someone, why didn’t he come into my room?”

  “He didn’t intend to kill her.”

  “How do ye ken that?”

  “Ina Claire said he told her that he intended for her to go with him.”

  “Och! He meant to steal her away?”

  “Yes. I have no idea why, but the fact that he was using chloroform would support that, I think.”

  “Aye, I think ye be right. And for whatever the purpose, ’tis for sure it was evil.”

  “I think it might be best if I spend the rest of the night, at least what little is left of it, with her,” Meagan said.

  “Aye, ’tis probably best.”

  “Oh, and she wanted me to tell you something.”

  “What is that?”

  “She wanted me to tell you that when the time came, she didn’t hesitate.”

  “Aye, and ’tis a good thing she did not. Tell the lass that ’tis proud of her that I be.”

  Meagan smiled. “I already told her that.”

  * * *

  “Here are your letters of commission and your badges,” Governor Hoyt said when they returned to his office the next morning.

  “Thank you, Governor,” Duff replied.

  “I heard about the . . . trouble in the hotel last night,” the governor said to Ina Claire. “I am so glad that you weren’t hurt. I’m sure it was quite traumatic for you.”

  “Yes, sir, it was,” Ina Claire said. “But it was a whole lot less disturbing than seeing both of my parents killed.”

  “Indeed, I’m sure it was. And I admire you for having the gumption to protect yourself. Sheriff Sharpies said the evidence against Peter Pollard was sufficiently incriminating that there would be no need for further inquiry.”

  “I’m glad he sees it that way,” Duff said. “Nevertheless, I think we will call on the sheriff this morning to see if we can get any ken on the men we are after. I assume he would be willing to share with us.”

  “Get any ken?” the governor replied, the expression on his face indicating his confusion.

  Meagan laughed. “You’ll have to excuse my Scottish friend, Uncle John. He’s been here for some time now, but he hasn’t entirely learned the English language. By ken, he means knowledge.”

  Governor Hoyt laughed as well. “Oh, I see. Well, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with the good sheriff sharing any information with you. In the first place, the positions that you hold supersede his authority, or for that matter, the authority of any other law officer in the entire Wyoming Territory, with the exception of United States Marshals. But even so, Sheriff Sharpies is so anxious to bring Callahan and Manning, as well as anyone who might be with them, to justice, he will gladly do all that he can to help.”

  * * *

  “Yes, sir,” Sheriff Sharpies said when Duff showed him their documents of commission. “The governor has already told me about you three.” He smiled. “I was concerned, at first, when I learned that he was giving such a commission to a couple of women, but after what happened in the hotel last night, I see that you can take care of yourself. By the way, miss, I was doing some research this morning, and it turns out that Peter Pollard was wanted for murder down in Colorado. And there’s a reward of a thousand dollars out for him. I’m not sure, being as you are a law officer now, that you can collect it.”

  “I’m sure she can,” Meagan said. “In the first place, she wasn’t yet a law officer when the incident happened. And in the second place, she, in fact all three of us, are non-compensated law officers, and that exempts us from any prohibition of collecting rewards for wanted fugitives.”

  “I’ll be damned,” the sheriff said with a broad smile. “You may be right.”

  “Sheriff, I suppose the governor told you why he was willing to swear us in as territorial marshals, didn’t he?” Duff asked.

  “Yes. And, miss, you have my sympathies with regard to your parents. That was a terrible thing for you to have to go through. And I’ll do all I can to help you find the evil men who did this.”

  “And ’tis thankful we are for your assistance,” Duff said. “Ye can start by telling us anything you know about crimes that have been committed since they escaped. We already know about the bank robbery in Bordeaux and the stagecoach holdup.”

  “The bank was held up by four men, the stagecoach by seven,” the sheriff said.

  “Aye,” Duff said. “Clay Callahan, Zeke Manning, Dooley Cooper, and Pogue Morris. Cooper and Morris are the ones who broke Callahan and Manning out of jail. I’ve no knowledge of the three additional men.”

  “This may help,” Sheriff Sharpies said. “Here’s a telegram we got from the city marshal in Uva. I don’t know for sure, but based upon recent information, I believe these may be the three men who joined up with Callahan and the others.”

  Duff took the telegram from the sheriff, then held it in a way that allowed Meagan and Ina Claire to read it.

  EMIL BATES LUCAS DONNER AND

  GABE PARDEEN ESCAPED FROM THE

  UVA JAIL ON WEDNESDAY LAST STOP

  THE OUTLAWS LEFT BEHIND THE BODY

  OF DEPUTY GOSNELL WHOSE THROAT

  HAD BEEN CUT STOP

  “Like Papa!” Ina Claire said with a little gasp.

  “I beg your pardon, miss?”

  “The men we are looking for like to use a knife,” Ina Claire said. “Papa’s throat was cut, just as this deputy’s was.”

  “Ye said ye had recent information to make ye suspect these three men are with Callahan?” Duff asked.

  “Yes. A respectable businessman, Art Whitworth, owned a quite successful store on the Little Laramie River between Farrel and Howell. He was robbed and killed yesterday morning by seven men. Enough of the men were identified to make it seem certain that all seven men are now known. Those names ar
e Callahan, Manning, Cooper, Morris, Pardeen, Bates, and Donner.”

  “Thank you for the information,” Duff said.

  “Yes, sir, well, given this information, Mr. MacCallister, you might want to give it some thought before you charge into them, being as there would be seven of them and only one of you.”

  “There are three of us, Sheriff. Or didn’t you notice?” Meagan said.

  Sheriff Sharpies frowned. “Surely, Miss Parker, you aren’t suggesting that you and the young lady actually intend to be a part of any actual confrontation with Callahan and his gang?”

  “Why not?” Meagan replied. “It should be obvious to you that, after the incident in the hotel last night, Ina Claire is perfectly capable of holding her own. And I assure you, I am no less capable.”

  The sheriff studied the two women for a long moment, then he smiled and nodded.

  “No, ma’am, I don’t think I can argue with you there,” he said.

  “Sheriff Sharpies, we’ll be taking our leave now, ’n ’tis our thanks we give ye for providing us such information as ye have.”

  “I wish I could be more helpful,” the sheriff said.

  “Ye did all ye could, ’n we could ask for no more.”

  When Duff, Meagan, and Ina Claire left the sheriff’s office, they started toward their horses, but Duff stopped them.

  “What is it?” Meagan asked.

  Duff smiled. “I have an idea that may cause Callahan ’n the others to have a wee bit o’ worry,” he said. “If we are lucky, it may cause them to make a mistake that we can pounce on. ’N even if it doesn’t push them into a mistake, well ’tis thinkin’ I am that it will at least cause them some discomfort. ’N right now, I’d be for causin’ the brigands all the discomfort we be able to give them.”

  “All right, I’d be for that,” Meagan said. “Where do we start?”

  “At the newspaper office.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Are you sure that you want to put this story in the newspaper?” Charles Denham, editor of the Cheyenne Defender, asked.