Heresy

by Melissa Lenhardt

  “All very well and good, Miss Hamilton, but you do not know Callum’s temperament, and he would never hire a woman to do a man’s job.”

  “Yet you sit in his front office.”

  “I’m family.”

  “Oh, you have an equal say in the running of his empire? No surprise, since the company flourished under your short tenure leading it after the colonel died. Congratulations, and I apologize.”

  Dorcas’s nostrils flared and she told me Callum ran the business and she assisted him when asked.

  I returned my file to my case and rose, but not to leave. I walked around to the map of Colorado on the wall. I asked if the pins were the locations of his businesses, and Dorcas said they were. I recited the holdups I’d copied from the agency file before I left.

  “Late spring 1875, a stage carrying the payroll for the Sweetwater mine in Wyoming was held up by masked bandits between Rock Springs and South Pass City. October 1875, a Connolly bank was robbed in Golden in the middle of the night. No one saw the bandits, so everyone assumed it was men. May 1876, Connolly Enterprises’ mining office in Silverton was robbed by two white women. Fall 1876, the Breckenridge branch of Bank of the Rockies was robbed by two white women and a black woman. In each instance, they claimed they were part of the Spooner Gang.”

  “You’ve done your homework.”

  “Of course. Are there any more?”

  “No.”

  “The dates are consistent, which means …”

  “They’re going to strike again, most likely this month,” Dorcas said.

  “Has anyone been injured?”

  “No.”

  “Is there anything connecting the two masked robberies with the ones with the women?”

  “The dates. The lack of violence. The efficiency.”

  “Efficiency? Interesting word choice.”

  “You live in the West long enough, you hear and read about robberies and outlaws weekly, at the very least. They’re nearly always caught; do you know why?”

  “Why?”

  “They can’t resist bragging. This gang does a job and disappears for months. Not a word. Does that sound like men to you?” Dorcas asked.

  I had to grin. “No, it does not.”

  “If you don’t work for Pinkerton, why are you here, Miss Hamilton?”

  “Are men ever asked why they do the jobs they do? No, but for women there always has to be a reason. Here is my reason, Miss Connolly: I’m good at my job, and I love it. These women are criminals, and I want to catch them. I want to start my own agency and need an independent investigation, a successful one, to do so.”

  “Pinkerton won’t give you a recommendation?”

  “My work was unassailable, but our personalities weren’t always compatible. I think he kept me around mainly because Kate Warne was my best friend, my mentor, and he didn’t want to lose that connection. He wanted to have someone to talk to about her. To reminisce. She was a calming force on him, a moral compass if you will. I never had that amount of sway.” Because I wasn’t sleeping with him, I thought.

  “You’re hired.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m hiring you. Callum has his man for the job, I have my woman. I can pay you out of my own pocket.”

  “I accept, of course, but now I must ask you why, Miss Connolly.”

  “Imagine the headlines, Miss Hamilton, if a female detective catches a female gang, and on the eve of the vote for suffrage in Colorado. I think it would help the cause, don’t you? Showing female competence in a man’s profession?”

  She’d hired me, so I agreed with her, but thought it more likely that the sight of a woman with four other women in chains might do more to defeat the amendment than help it.

  There were two possible targets for the outlaws to hit: an eastbound train carrying a safe full of gold, the other a stage from Cañon City carrying the first payroll of the season to the Columbia miners. Callum was counting on the train to be the more enticing target, as it was what he would rob—why take a risk if the reward wasn’t large enough?—and had the train loaded with guns for hire. Dorcas disagreed, but her entreaties had been dismissed until Callum finally agreed to have his new clerk travel with the stage for extra protection. I told her I would bring my gun, as well, and asked her to tell me everything she knew of the gang’s previous heists. We spent the next hour discussing my plan.

  As the payroll isn’t scheduled to leave for a week, I have time to settle in to Denver, look around the town, and get my bearings. Tomorrow I will go to the newspaper offices and read their dispatches on the robberies.

  COLORADO WEEKLY CHIEFTAIN

  FRIDAY, MAY 14, 1875

  MASKED OUTLAWS ROB STAGE BETWEEN ROCK SPRINGS AND SOUTH PASS CITY

  Four masked bandits robbed the stage carrying the payroll for Connolly Enterprises’ Sweetwater mine on Thursday last. The whole event took five minutes, including looting the safe box and unhitching the team from the stage. The driver balked at doing it, but the bandits threatened to kill the horses, even though the outlaw said he was trying to help them out, as finding a new team would be a damn sight easier than removing four dead draft horses from the road. The driver saw the logic, and he and the guard did as told.

  The outlaws were polite and efficient and said very little. They were all slight of build, which led the victims to believe they were young men, possibly not past their twentieth year. They took $7,000 from the strongbox but did not loot the passengers’ possessions, or ask them to empty their pockets. Harvey Quartermaine, who has had the unfortunate luck to be present at four robberies, (two trains and now two stages), said it was the most pleasant experience of the bunch.

  The bandits rode off in four directions and used the rough terrain around the area to escape. A supply wagon happened along about twenty minutes later and took those it had room for on to South Pass City. By the time the robbery was reported to the mining office, the bandits had a four-hour head start. Darkness and a heavy thunderstorm meant the posse couldn’t chase until the next day. By the time the sun rose, the posse had been called off, owning to lack of will as well as the sure knowledge any sign of the retreating bandits would have been washed away in the storm.

  GOLDEN WEEKLY GLOBE

  TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1875

  MIDNIGHT ROBBERY

  BANK OF THE ROCKIES

  $10,000 IN CASH AND BONDS TAKEN

  NO CLUES OR SUSPECTS

  Sometime after midnight on Thursday, October 28, outlaws entered the Golden branch of the Bank of the Rockies through the back door, cracked the safe and walked out with $10,000 in cash and bonds. No one saw them enter or leave, and they left the bank in pristine condition, so the robbery wasn’t discovered until the bank manager, Edwin Kiester, opened the bank at ten o’clock Monday morning.

  With no clues, witnesses or suspects, speculation is running high as to which outlaw gang might be responsible. Because of the skill and lack of force in opening the safe, it’s considered a good bet that Hank “Ought-Not” Henry was the culprit. Henry rides with Jed Spooner and his gang and is thought by many to be Spooner’s second in command. The heist has the typical Spooner Gang hallmarks: no violence, efficiency and a large take.

  Pug McDougall, who used to ride with Angus King, says Spooner’s gang beat it down to Mexico last June after coming close to being caught by Sheriff Cooper and the Cheyenne posse, who were on the chase after the robbery of the Union Pacific office.

  Callum Connolly, son of the late Colonel Louis Connolly, was in Golden when the robbery took place. This reporter happened to be standing in the lobby of the bank, waiting to speak with Mr. Kiester, and through a closed door heard Mr. Connolly dress down his bank manager. The younger Connolly slammed the door when he left the office, shattering the glass and leaving poor Edwin Kiester, a good, honest Christian man, shaking from head to toe.

  Mr. Connolly didn’t respond to questions about a reward for the capture of the bandits. When one is issued, you can be sure t
o find it in this broadsheet.

  LA PLATA MINER

  WEDNESDAY, MAY 24, 1876

  OUTLAWS TARGET CONNOLLY BUSINESS IN SILVERTON

  THIRD ROBBERY IN LAST 18 MONTHS

  Two men robbed the Connolly Mine office in Silverton on Friday, May 19, the third Connolly business theft in 18 months.

  The men walked in and politely asked for their pay. The manager, Edgar Agnew, didn’t recognize the miners and asked them for their names to check against the register. The men pulled out their guns and said that was all the name they needed. It was lunchtime, and Agnew was in the office by himself, and his gun was out of reach. No matter, as the younger man confiscated his gun before Agnew could take a breath. There was nothing for it but to acquiesce to the villains’ demands. The leader tied Agnew up and closed him up in the storage room, looted the cash box and left.

  Agnew’s assistant returned and released him, and they went directly to the sheriff to report it. The town was filling up with miners coming down from the hills for the weekend, and a large supply train had just rolled in from Ouray. The chaos of the influx of people allowed the two bandits to vanish without a trace.

  ROCKY MOUNTAIN NEWS

  THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1876

  “THE SPOONER GANG SENDS THEIR REGARDS”

  CONNOLLY BUSINESS HIT AGAIN!

  FOURTH ROBBERY IN TWO YEARS

  PINKERTONS BEING CALLED IN

  The Breckenridge branch of the Bank of the Rockies was robbed by three men in masks last Friday night, October 27, The men came in at the end of the business day when only the bank manager, Wesley Loren, and his clerk, Josiah Smith, were closing up. Two bandits easily subdued the men, tied them to chairs and shoved kerchiefs in their mouths while the third cracked the safe with a stethoscope. They got away with $13,000 in cash, gold coins and bonds.

  The gang used the festive air in the town due to the opening of two new saloons and the competing shows of beautiful dance hall girls as cover for their flight out of town.

  As they left the bank, the leader told the bound men to tell Callum Connolly “the Spooner Gang sends their regards.”

  This is the fourth time in less than two years that outlaws have robbed a Connolly business, but the first time that the Spooner Gang has specifically taken credit for it. Each job has been pulled off with little fanfare and no violence, hallmarks of Spooner’s gang. Though Spooner is an efficient crook, he tends to go for more showy displays of his banditry skill, such as the train robbery near the Dale Creek bridge in Wyoming. Rumors have swirled that Spooner is south in Mexico and that this gang is a new group using Spooner’s name to hide their identities. Another possibility that has been floated by former outlaws is that this gang consists of members who didn’t want to go south and are trying a different type of banditry. Whatever the case, these bandits have been successful enough and have angered Callum Connolly enough that he is hiring Pinkertons to run them to ground.

  18

  Claire Hamilton’s Case Notes

  Saturday, May 19, 1877

  Platte River Boarding House, Denver, Colorado

  There are days on this job when you walk for miles, talking to dozens of people, and seem to make no progress, and feel less informed, and more confused, than you were when you started, until you realize the lack of information is the biggest clue of all. Today was one of those days.

  It turns out, this female gang is a figment of my overwrought female imagination. I went to the three major daily newspapers and the smaller weekly ones and found no mention of them in their pages. Dorcas was correct in that there are numerous stories of robberies, some large, most small, but the only crimes women seem to be guilty of are hysteria, prostitution, drunkenness, and stealing food for their children. One woman stabbed her husband and was sent to the county hospital for her trouble. There are lots of articles on both sides of the suffrage amendment, with “against” getting the loudest voice and the best placement. There is talk of a coming silver boom in the area near Oro City in California Gulch.

  To a man, the editors from large and small newspapers looked at me as if I were mentally unsound when I asked about the female gang terrorizing Connolly Enterprises. Outrageous. Preposterous. Women don’t have the mettle to be outlaws. Or the intelligence. Too emotional. Besides, what man would let his woman go and do such a thing? Besides, women don’t think that way. The fairer sex is too upstanding and moral. The ones who aren’t are sent to mental hospitals, where they belong.

  At first I was perplexed, then I was angry, but by the end of the day I’d started to believe I was mentally unsound.

  That’s when I knew the gang was real.

  Regardless of what transpires, of how this case turns out, I’ve decided to settle in Denver. An impulsive decision? Possibly. But the air is invigorating, the skies are a beautiful blue, the weather is outstanding, and the snowcapped mountains in the distance are awe-inspiring. Denver is a large town and growing more and more every day. I feel at home here in a way I never did in Chicago. Tonight I’m attending a meeting of the Colorado Woman Suffrage Association. Tomorrow I leave for Colorado Springs and on to Pueblo, where I will catch a stage to Cañon City. It is a good thing I enjoy traveling, because I will not see Denver again for at least two weeks.

  I have purchased a traveling outfit with Dorcas’s advance on expenses. They are easily the nicest togs I’ve ever owned. If I’m going to pull off the ruse of a rich travel writer, I need to look the part.

  Sunday, May 20, 1877

  Colorado Springs, Colorado

  A man was shot and killed not five feet from me today. I’m ashamed to say I fainted dead away. I came to in a bed with a tired-looking woman wearing a linen shift that left nothing to the imagination pouring whisky down my throat. When I sat up and looked around, I discovered I was surrounded by similarly clad women staring at me with a range of expressions, the most dominant one being impatience. I realized I was in a whorehouse and that I was interrupting the only time of the day they had to relax and sleep. I tried to stand, but stumbled. The woman who had given me whisky told me I’d hit my head and that I should sit down.

  “Fell face-first, you did. Never seen a woman faint like that.”

  I touched my forehead and felt the bump square in the center and discovered a headache behind my eyes.

  “Don’t worry, we sent for the doc.”

  I told her I didn’t want to trouble her, and one of the younger girls said, “Too late for that.” The woman shooed everyone out of the room, telling them to get some sleep, as it was a Sunday. When we were alone, I asked if Sunday was a busy night.

  “Every night is busy. What’s your name?”

  I decided taking an alias would be wise, so if I crossed paths with Salter, Pinkerton’s agent, he wouldn’t recognize my name. “Grace Trumbull.”

  “What’re you doing out here alone?”

  “How do you know I’m alone?”

  “Haven’t asked for me to fetch anyone, have you?”

  I attribute my mistake to my light-headedness. “What is your name, and where am I?”

  “My name is Sally Dove, and you’re in the Dove’s Nest.”

  “And you are a house of assignation?”

  “We’re a whorehouse, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Yes, indeed. Did you know the man who was killed?”

  Sally Dove shrugged. “We see lots of men. Very few are memorable.”

  “I suppose you hear lots of news. Gossip.”

  “Most of it’s lies.”

  “I read about a new silver seam being found somewhere in the mountains?”

  “That’s real. Probably head out there soon, change of scenery. Men are free with the coin when they think it’ll never play out. Always does, though. That’s why you get there early and get out.”

  My head was starting to throb, and I wanted to lie down in my hotel bed instead of this one, so I decided I couldn’t be subtle in my information gathering. “I’m out here traveling. To write
a book about what I see and whom I meet. May I mention our interaction?”

  “No skin off my nose.”

  “I wondered if you might be able to help me, since you hear so much in your line of work. I overheard a man on the train talking to his companion about a gang of outlaws.”

  “Colorado is lousy with outlaws. Pay good after a job, though.”

  “But this gang is unique. They’re women. Have you heard of them?”

  “Why didn’t you ask the man?”

  “I did, and he clammed up.”

  Sally Dove’s shift slipped off her shoulder, exposing a breast with a large pink nipple. I looked away, felt my face flush and my heartbeat throb in my temple.

  “Not surprised. They only talk of them when they’re drunk.”

  “They are real?”

  “Yep. Said to be part of the Spooner Gang, but I don’t believe it. I’ve bedded Jed Spooner, and he’s more respectful than most, but he’s a man, and I ain’t never met one who would stand for a woman showing him up for two years.”

  “He doesn’t know?”

  “Last anyone heard of Jed, he was heading south, away from the law in Utah. That was two years ago. My guess is news hasn’t traveled to Mexico yet, but when it does, he’ll scamper back.”

  I glanced at Sally Dove, hoping she’d made herself decent. She hadn’t, and when I lifted my eyes to her face, it wasn’t tiredness that I saw. She moved close to me. Touched the bump on my head with gentle fingers. She offered to make me feel better.

  “Do you have any idea who they are?”

  “No.”

  “Where they go between jobs?”

  “No.”

  “How many of them there are?”

  “You aren’t writing a book, are you?”

  “No.”

  “I tell you what. I’ll ask around for you. You come back through and visit me again, and I’ll tell you what I know.”