“I certainly do. Helped draft it myself.”
“Good, because I can add another charge to Madam Pinochet’s sheet. She had the door of her saloon locked and allowed gambling to go on during off-hours.”
Mayor Welch rolled his eyes. “God help us. Aren’t you leveling enough serious charges at her than to pile on with minute indiscretions?”
“The law is the law,” Trammel said. “I won’t bend it for you or anyone else.”
Mayor Welch checked to make absolutely sure no one else was in the jailhouse and that the door was locked before saying, “You’re new to town, so I can’t expect you to know how we do things around here, but arresting that woman is a mistake. She kept a lid on this town, Trammel. She controlled the saloons and the gambling to make it so that decent folks could walk down the street. She helped make this town fit to live in.”
“That’s the sheriff’s job,” Trammel said. “Besides, those men I killed were trying to kill me. Maybe that would’ve been pretty good for you, come to think of it. With me out of the way, you and the madam would have free rein over this town.”
“Maybe we should have a new election for sheriff as soon as possible,” Welch countered. “And maybe I’ll get working on that this very day.” He opened the front door and spoke loudly enough for anyone outside to hear. “And I demand Madam Peachtree be treated with the respect deserving of a woman of her standing, sir!”
He stormed out of the jailhouse and didn’t bother to close the door after him.
“Quite a speech,” Trammel muttered. He saw the gash in the door from Hastings’s knife and decided to add destruction of public property to Madam Pinochet’s list of charges. The mayor would enjoy that.
Someone waved a white handkerchief from the left side of the doorway before Adam Hagen poked his head out, hands raised. “It’s just me, Sheriff. Don’t shoot.”
Trammel remembered that he had to reload the Peacemaker. “I shoot you, I lose the only friend I’ve got around here.”
Hagen shut the door behind him and leaned against it. “You look mighty good behind that desk, Sheriff Trammel, if I do say so myself.”
Trammel eased his Peacemaker out of his shoulder holster and laid it on the desk. “Won’t be sheriff for long if Mayor Welch has anything to say about it.”
“He doesn’t have anything to say about it at all,” Hagen said. “Father does, and he wants you to have the job. In fact, I’ve got a feeling he set this whole thing up knowing exactly what was going to happen.”
Trammel was glad he said it first. “That thought crossed my mind, too.” He cracked open the cylinder and took out the spent rounds. He took a box of ammunition from the top right drawer and reloaded. “Think Bookman told Bonner to clear out?”
“He said he didn’t,” Hagen said, “and I tend to believe him. Bookman is a deliberate man and not given to lying. He’s been with Father for years, and Father never gives him much room for independent thinking. No, he didn’t tell Bonner to clear out, but I’d wager a thousand dollars that Father knew Bonner would take the opportunity to run out. I take it you’re not much of a chess player, are you, Buck?”
Trammel was glad to be able to surprise him. “I know the game a little. An old partner of mine liked to play it as a way to pass the time. Picked a bit of it up myself. Why?”
“Father views himself as the king on the board, while the rest of us are pawns to be sacrificed so he can have freedom of movement. And, like a chess king, he only moves north and south, east and west. He’ll wait for a clear shot at a piece, then buffalo it off the board.” He pointed back toward the cells. “I take it the queen of our game is back there?”
Trammel shut the cylinder and put the Peacemaker back into the ruined holster under his arm. “Yeah. She claims I broke her arm. I’ve sent for Emily, but she’s not here yet.”
Hagen cocked an eyebrow. “Emily is it? On a first-name basis with the comely young doctor already. And you said I’m the only friend you had in town.”
Trammel willed himself not to blush, but wasn’t sure it was working. “Met her when I brought Bonner’s body in from the outskirts. She seems capable enough.”
“Available enough, too, from what I hear.” Hagen looked back at the cells. “I’ve never seen a criminal mastermind before. Think I could steal a peek?”
“This is a jail,” Trammel said, “not a zoo. But take a look if you want.”
As Hagen looked at the lady, Trammel remembered Bonner’s ledger was in the bottom drawer of his desk. He knew he’d never make heads or tails of it if he looked at it for a year. He wondered if Hagen might be able to understand it. “After you’re done there, I need you to take a look at something else.”
He pulled out the ledger and tossed it on his desk. “I found it in Bonner’s room over at Welch’s place. Had it stashed under a floorboard under his dresser.”
Intrigued, Hagen walked over and opened the ledger. Trammel watched his pale eyes as they moved over the pages. “It’s written in an elegant hand. Too elegant for a man of Bonner’s disposition, I’d wager.” He looked at the sheriff. “Think your guest in the back wrote this?”
“I didn’t think so until they stuck that note to my door this morning. Now, I don’t know what to believe. She never even told me how much Bonner owed before we started shooting at each other.”
Hagen flipped through a few more pages. “Maybe this ledger was part of the debt. I wonder how he managed to get his hands on it. From what I hear, he wasn’t a very clever man, and it would take a clever man to get something like this away from Madam Pinochet.”
“I’m not sure of what it is,” Trammel admitted. “I can’t make sense of the damned thing. Figured you might.”
Hagen kept turning pages. “Perhaps. It seems to be written in some kind of code, but I may be able to crack it upon closer examination. May I take it with me?”
Trammel wondered if that was wise. He trusted Hagen to a point, but wasn’t sure if he could trust his friend’s instincts. He had learned a lot about the man on the trail between Wichita and Blackstone, but Adam Hagen was still a gambler in more ways than at the gaming tables. He wondered if he should show it to Charles Hagen first. After all, he ultimately worked for him.
But Trammel had worked for men like Charles Hagen before. They often didn’t like their inferiors asking them what to do. They liked giving orders and reprimands, but they weren’t great on direction. Sometimes, they preferred their people to take the initiative, which is exactly what Trammel decided to do. “I’ll have to make you sign a receipt for it.”
Hagen took a step back. “My, how official. Pin a star on a man’s chest and watch him change.”
Trammel pulled out a piece of paper from his desk and began writing out a receipt. “I was a copper for a long time before I was a bouncer, remember? Records keep things easy to track.”
“I stand corrected once again.” Hagen watched him write up the receipt. “I think Father got more than he bargained for when he asked you to become a deputy.”
Trammel looked up when he heard a knock at the door. A slightly flustered Emily Downs stood in the doorway, her medical bag in hand. “Sorry I couldn’t come sooner, but I had to talk a teamster out of shooting one of his horses. He thought it had a broken leg. I convinced him it was just a cramp. A little liniment on the muscle and some rest should do the trick.”
Trammel forgot all about the receipt for a moment. “Come on in, Doc. The patient’s in the back. I’ll let you into her cell in a minute. Just writing up a receipt for my friend here. You know Adam Hagen, don’t you?”
“Only by reputation.”
Hagen took her hand when she entered the jail and kissed it. “My, a female crime boss and a female doctor all in one tiny jailhouse out here in the wilderness. Blackstone has become quite a cosmopolitan place since I left.”
“You’re a live one, aren’t you?” she said.
“You have no idea,” Hagen said.
She glanced at the
open ledger, then at Trammel’s handwriting. “Nice penmanship, Sheriff.”
“One of my few good qualities, for all the good it does me.” The receipt completed, he handed the pen and paper to Hagen. “Sign there.”
“It’s a pleasure to be able to sign an official document rather than a marker for a change.” He signed the receipt and promptly closed the ledger before tucking it under his arm. “Now, I’m afraid you must excuse me while I return to the Clifford to resume my duties. Much to be done. But I’d be honored if both of you would join me for dinner this evening. I’m arranging something of a welcoming for myself and our new sheriff here. I’ve invited all of the town’s leading citizens. Would be a good way for you to meet all of the important people in town, Buck. I even bent the rules a bit and invited Mayor Welch.”
Emily giggled.
Trammel said, “I don’t think he’ll have much of an appetite seeing me there.”
“All the better, then. We’ll dine at six. I hope to see you both there.” He touched the brim of his hat to the doctor, then to Trammel. “Good day.”
Trammel and Emily watched him stride out of the jail, a man of purpose.
“I’m glad he lived up to the billing,” Emily said. “I heard he’s quite a character.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Trammel gathered up the ring of keys as he stood. “Let’s take a look at your patient.”
She stopped him cold by placing a hand on his arm. “I’m more concerned about you at the moment. Three dead men on one day and two of them by your own hand. How are you holding up?”
Trammel wasn’t accustomed to talking about himself. He was accustomed to people caring about him even less. “I’m alive and they’re dead. I’d say I’m doing just fine.” He motioned toward the cells. “Shall we?”
Emily shook her head as she followed Trammel into the back.
* * *
Madame Pinochet glowered at him from her cot as Emily examined her arm. “Murderer. Fiend. Assassin.”
Now that she was no longer in shadow, Trammel could see why she preferred veils and darkness. The entire left side of her face was a mass of ruined skin that he judged was from a burn of some kind. Not from a fire, but more like an iron. Whoever did it to her must’ve loved her very much at one time, an emotion that had evolved into hate. Only hate could force someone to do that and let the woman live afterward.
“Coward,” she spat as she cringed from Emily’s examination. “Assassin.”
“You’re repeating yourself,” Trammel said. “Now sit still while the doctor looks you over.”
“I have no intention of sitting still. I have no intention of allowing any of this charade to continue a moment longer than it has to.”
“You’re not in any position to allow anything,” Trammel told her. “You’re looking at a lot of serious charges. A judge might spare your life, but you won’t be breathing free air anytime soon.”
“Which judge?” she sneered. “Where will the trial be held? You don’t even know, do you? I’d wager you don’t even know where to take me. It doesn’t matter. I already own any judge you can name. I’ll get a slap on the wrist and you’ll get egg on your face. I’ll be back at The Lion’s Den within a week, and you’ll be a dead man.”
Trammel admired the woman’s spirit, even though he didn’t like her. He didn’t know where to take her and doubted anyone in town would help him. He imagined Laramie would make the most sense, given it was less than a day’s ride from Blackstone, but he’d find that out in due course. He could always ride up to Mr. Hagen’s place and ask him if he had to.
But she was right that he didn’t have any help and wasn’t likely to get any help anytime soon. None that he could trust anyway.
“Enfant terrible,” she went on. “You have no idea what’s happening in this town, do you? This territory? Shame for one so strong to die so ignorant so soon. You haven’t the slightest grasp of what’s happening here, do you?”
“Threatening the life of a peace officer,” Trammel said. “This time in front of a witness. Another count for your sheet.”
Madame Pinochet cried out when Emily touched her arm and cursed her in what Trammel considered her native tongue.
Her examination finished, Emily shut her bag and stood up from the cot. “Her arm’s just bruised, not broken. I’m sorry to report she’s in otherwise excellent health, much to your dismay, Sheriff Trammel.”
Trammel locked the cell door when Emily stepped out.
The lady sprang off the cot and grabbed the bars. “My attorney will be here soon, and when he comes, I’ll be back at the Den where I belong, and you’ll be powerless to touch me ever again.”
Trammel ignored her threats as he escorted Emily into the outer office and closed the door to the cells behind him.
“She’s not the most pleasant person in the world even at the best of times,” Emily said. “I’m afraid her situation will only make her worse. I’m sorry about that.”
Trammel shrugged. “It’s just words. I can handle it.”
“Not with her, it’s not. She’s a dangerous woman, Buck, even in jail. She’s got a lot of friends in Blackstone who won’t like her cooped up like this, especially that you’ve got her ledger.”
Trammel stopped before they got to the jailhouse door. “Her ledger? How do you know I have her ledger?”
“Why, I saw you giving it to Mr. Hagen when I came in. You wrote a receipt for it and everything. Don’t you remember?” She went on tiptoe to hold the back of her hand against his forehead. “Are you okay? Did you hurt your head in the fight?”
Trammel gently eased her hand away. “I’m fine. You’ve seen that ledger before? I know you said you’d treated her a couple of times.”
“I haven’t,” she admitted, “but I recognized her handwriting, even though it was in French.”
That’s why he couldn’t understand it. It wasn’t in code. It was written in French. “How do you know that?”
“My maiden name is Deveraux. I grew up speaking French at home. I don’t even want to tell you what she called you back there. They weren’t pet names, I can promise you that.”
But Trammel didn’t care about that. “You saw what was written in the ledger just now? You recognized it as French?”
“I only saw a few words, but yes, I did.”
A cold sweat began to break out across his back. “What words did you recognize?”
“I only saw a few in passing, but one leapt out at me in particular. Maire. It’s the French word for ‘mayor.’”
Trammel leaned against the doorway. That’s why Mayor Welch had taken such an interest in her arrest. He was in her ledger. He was on her payroll.
Emily took him by the arms and attempted to steer him toward his chair. “Now I’m really worried, Buck. Let me examine you.”
Trammel stood upright and, once again, eased her hands away. “There’s nothing wrong with me that you can fix, unless you know how to fix stupidity.”
Her brow furrowed, and Trammel smiled. She looked so pretty, even when she was confused. “Don’t worry about it. I hope you’ll be able to go to Adam’s dinner this evening.”
“I’ll only go if you’re going.”
He managed a smile as he opened the door for her. “Then I’ll be by to pick you up at a quarter to six.”
“I’ll be waiting,” she said. “And Buck, please be careful between now and then. Her arrest has stirred up quite a hornet’s nest in town. Someone may try to do something stupid, maybe even you.”
He assured her he would and watched her climb aboard her wagon. She waved as she released the brake and snapped the reins to make the horse move. Trammel waved back.
He leaned against the doorway and took his first good look at Blackstone since he’d ridden into town. He could hear the drinking sounds from the saloons on either side of the jail. He heard tinny pianos banging out familiar songs and drunks trying to carry a tune.
Across Main Street, the avenues were filled
with people going in and out of stores like bees approaching a hive. Men and women stopped and spoke to each other, casting furtive glances back toward the jail, doing double takes when they saw him standing there. Ladies nodded and men tipped their hats to him. Trammel faked a smile as he responded in kind.
How many of them are for me? How many of them are against me? How many of them are working with Madam Pinochet? How many of them will try to save her? Any of them? How many of them will try to kill me? All of them?
It was the final question that burned him the most. How stupid of me to let Hagen walk out of the jail with the best evidence he had against Pinochet?
Especially because he was fairly certain Hagen knew at least a little French. He had the same familiar expression on his face as Emily had when she saw the ledger. He knew.
That ledger might just be the most powerful item in the territory and he had just let Hagen walk out with it in broad daylight.
Trammel thought about going over to the Clifford Hotel and taking the ledger back from Hagen. Adam was a dangerous man, but not dangerous enough to keep Trammel from getting it if he wanted it.
That’s when something Hagen had said that morning came back to him.
This is a game of chess. Pawns and kings and such.
Was Adam Hagen trying to be king of the town the way Charles Hagen was king of this part of the territory?
Maybe it would be better if Trammel let the gambler play his hand and see what happened? Maybe Adam Hagen wasn’t as smart as he thought he was.
And maybe, Trammel thought, I’m not as dumb as I’m supposed to be.
And maybe it was time for him to prove it. He went to the desk and put the receipt for the ledger in his pocket. He had a feeling that would come in handy before long.
CHAPTER 29
After a long bath and a shave, Buck Trammel felt like a new man. He toweled off and began to put on some of the new clothes he had purchased at Robertson’s General Store before he’d come up to his room.
“No charge, Sheriff,” Tom Robertson had told him. “Think of it as a welcoming gift for agreeing to be our sheriff. We’re all confident you’ll be a marked improvement over the worthless, lazy lout who preceded you in that office.”
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