“You said the imposter wanted the latest transfer to go to a bank in Cheyenne?” Duff asked.
“Yes, the First Bank and Trust of Cheyenne.”
“Then that’s where the blackheart will be going,” Duff said.
“Not necessarily,” Dempster said. “Since the transfer is a credit instead of actual cash, he would be able to access the money from anywhere. Denver, San Francisco, St. Louis, anywhere he goes.”
“So he can be anywhere,” Duff said.
“I’m afraid so.”
“I don’t care,” Pete said, waving his hand. “Right now, first and foremost, is my son. Where is Jake? Is he still alive? I must know, and finding him is my top priority.”
“We’ll find him,” Duff promised.
Chapter Thirty-five
A few minutes later, Duff, Elmer, and Pete were having coffee in Fiddler’s Green, where Duff introduced Pete to Biff Johnson.
“Biff has an interesting background,” Duff said. “He was a sergeant major with Custer.”
“With Custer?” Pete said, surprised by the revelation. “I thought everyone with Custer was killed.”
“True,” Biff said. “What Duff means is, I was with Custer’s column, but I was actually in the fight with Reno and Benteen.”
“Oh, yes, I should have realized. I have read of those two gentlemen.”
“They were officers and thus made gentlemen by an act of Congress. It took an act of Congress, because, believe me, neither one of those blatherskites are gentlemen,” Biff replied. “As far as I’m concerned, they abandoned Custer, Reno because of cowardice, and Benteen because of hatred.”
Duff chuckled. “As you can see, Biff is a man of opinion.”
“I can see that,” Pete said, also with a chuckle.
“So, you’ve come out here to check on how your son is doing, have you?” Biff said.
“He isn’t my son,” Pete said.
“What is he, your nephew or something? I thought Jake Poindexter was your son.”
“Jake Poindexter is my son, but the man who has been passing himself off as Jake Poindexter is a phony,” Pete said.
“I’ll be damned. So you mean there ain’t goin’ to be a railroad after all? That’s sure goin’ to disappoint a lot of people.”
“No, there will be a railroad, once I manage to get control of things again. My son came out here to build the railroad, but the man who claims to be my son has been doing nothing but stealing money from the company.”
“You say your son did come out here?” Biff said.
“Yes, and I’m very worried about him.”
“Then that’s who it was!” Biff said with a snap of his fingers. “It has to be! And that would explain where Kay is.”
“What are you talking about?” Duff asked.
“Just a minute and I think we can figure it out. Addie, come over here for a moment, would you?” Biff called out to the girl who had waited upon them earlier.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Johnson. More coffee?” Addie asked.
“No, we want to ask you a question.”
Addie was clearly confused, and a little concerned, by Biff’s comment, and it showed in her face as she approached the table.
“Addie, tell these gentlemen what Kay told you about overhearing some of the railroad police talking.”
“She didn’t say too much about it. Just that she had overheard some of them talking and she was curious about what they said.”
“What did they say?” Duff asked.
“Only that they were watchin’ over someone. Kay said it sounded to her like they were keepin’ someone a prisoner, ’n since they are police themselves, she was wonderin’ why they wasn’t keepin’ whoever it was in jail.”
“If the man whose been tellin’ ever’one that he’s your son ain’t really your son, ’n you say your son did come out here, then it could be—”
“The real Jake Poindexter is the one they’re guardin’ somewhere,” Elmer said, interrupting Biff.
“Where?” Pete asked.
“I don’t know where he is now, but I’m pretty sure I know where he was,” Biff said. “You see, Kay spoke to the marshal and Charley Blanton about it, and damn if she didn’t go off by herself to look into it.”
“What did she find out?” Elmer asked.
“Well, I don’t know for sure, but when she didn’t come back after a few days, Charley and I figured out where the cabin was and we went to see for ourselves. That’s when we found one of the railroad policemen, shot dead. I think it was Butrum.”
“Did you ask the imposter about it?” Duff asked.
“No, Charley said that since we didn’t find Kay there, talking about it might bring more danger to her.”
“Aye, ’tis probably true,” Duff said.
“But, whoever was being held there is gone, as well. And now, with you telling me that the real Jake Poindexter is actually out here, I would be willing to bet a hundred dollars to one that he was the one being held in that line shack. And with him and Kay both gone, I think they killed Butrum and made their escape. There’s no doubt in my mind but that if we find Kay, we’ll find your son.”
During the conversation, Addie had stood by quietly listening as the men discussed her friend Kay and whoever might be with her. Then, realizing that her presence might be considered an intrusion, she asked sweetly, “Would anyone want more coffee?”
“Nae, lass. ’Tis late enough in the day. I believe I’ll have a wee bit o’ my scotch.”
“Duff’s special bottle is under the bar,” Biff said.
“Yes, sir, I know which bottle is his,” Addie replied with a pretty smile.
When Charley Blanton came into the saloon a short while later, he saw that Duff and the others were deeply engaged in conversation. He saw, also, that there was an older man who he had never seen before. Every chair at the table was occupied, but Charley, considering that freedom of the press extended to freedom to butt in, took an empty chair from one of the other tables and pushed it in between Elmer and Biff.
Just as Charley had not waited for an invitation to join them, neither did he wait for an introduction to the man who was a stranger to him. Before he sat down, he stuck his hand across the table. “I’m Charley Blanton, owner, publisher, editor, and reporter of the local newspaper, the Chugwater Defender.”
“Preston Poindexter. Pete, if you will,” Pete replied.
“Preston Poindexter?” Charley looked toward Duff.
“Aye, the Preston Poindexter,” Duff validated.
“Well sir, all I can say is, you have some nerve coming here now, with all the damage your son has done to our community.”
“The brigand who did all that was nae his son,” Duff said. “We believe the real Jake Poindexter was captured by the imposter, and now we’re trying to find Pete’s son.”
“Oh,” Charley said contritely. “Mr. Poindexter, please forgive me. I had no idea.”
“There is no forgiveness due, Mr. Blanton. As you said, you had no idea that the man doing all the damage wasn’t my son.”
“Do you know the name of the man who is impersonating your son?’
“I’m afraid not.”
“Well, what does he say about all this? Have you confronted him?”
“Nae, for the brigand is gone.”
“So, you are looking for the real Jake Poindexter, you say? Where are you looking?”
“Charley, I was tellin’ that you and I may have almost found him.”
“The line shack!” Charley said. “Yes, you’re right, Biff! I think he may well have been the one who was being held prisoner, the one Kay went to check on.”
“What did you find at the line shack?” Duff asked.
“The man who had been guarding them, Butrum, we believe it was, was dead, and Kay and the real Jake Poindexter were gone,” Charley said.
Duff smiled. “Pete, if they were able to escape, ’tis my thinking that they’re both still alive ’n making their way to someplace safe.”
“I pray that you are right, Mr. Blanton. That it was my son who was being held there, and I pray that you are also right, Duff. That they are both somewhere safe now.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Wang Chow saw Zack Clark as soon as he stepped into Lu Win’s Restaurant.
“There is your friend,” Mae Win said.
“Zack, come and join us,” Wang called out, speaking in English.
“Jntin w bùshì Zack. W shì Loh.”
Zack spoke the words in a guttural tone that even the few Americans in the room and didn’t understand the language, recognized as an implied threat.
“Why did he say that today he isn’t Zack, he is Tiger?” Mae Win asked.
“I think he has come to challenge me,” Wang said.
“Challenge you? Do you mean he wants to fight you?”
“Shi.”
“Are you ready, my friend?” Zack asked, switching back to English.
“Not in here. I have no wish to bring damage to this place and the fine people who own it.”
“In the street, then, Dào s,” Zack said, again, making a guttural challenge of the last two words.
“Dào s,” Wang replied as calmly as if he had just been asked to share a drink.
“To the death?” Mae Win gasped, horror-stricken by what she had just heard. “But no! You are friends! Why, Tiger? Why do you wish to fight to the death?” She asked the question in Chinese.
“It is a matter of honor,” Zack replied in the same language.
“It is honorable for a friend to kill a friend?” Mae Win’s words were filled with anguish and confusion.
“Wang Chow brought dishonor to the Temple of Changlin. Dowager Ci’an has issued a decree ordering his death, so as a priest of Changlin, I am honor bound to kill the man who was my friend.”
Even though they spoke Chinese, the others in the restaurant realized rather quickly that there was about to be a fight, and that this fight would be like none they had ever seen before.
As Clark and Wang Chow left the restaurant, the others, including Mae Win, the employees, and even Lu Win himself, left the restaurant to follow the two men out into the street.
* * *
As Duff and the others continued their conversation in Fiddler’s Green, someone stepped in through the batwing doors and called out. “Come quick! That Chinaman ’n another feller’s about to have a fight in the street!”
“Wang?” Biff asked.
“It must be,” Duff replied and his table, as did every other table, and even the bar cleared of customers as everyone rushed outside.
Already the street was filled with citizens of Chugwater as they gathered to see what was about to happen.
“That’s a white man goin’ up against Wang,” Biff said. “What kind of fool would do that?”
“It’s Zack Clark,” Duff said. “He trained with Wang when they were boys.” Duff knew of Zack’s history.
“I thought they was friends,” Elmer said. “What they fightin’ for?”
“I don’t know,” Biff said. “But I’ve got an idea it’s goin’ to be a doozy.”
Wang knelt before Zack and removed Zack’s shoes. Then Wang stood as Zack knelt before him, removing Wang’s shoes. With bare feet the two men stood in the middle of the street, facing one another. Putting their hands together, prayerlike, just under their chin, they made a slight bow of their heads toward each other.
With all the preliminaries out of the way, both men assumed a fighting stance, and the more observant of those who were gathered for the fight saw that the way they stood, and the way they held their feet and hands, were mirror images.
Approaching each other, they began making thrusts and jabs, but to no effect as they were mutually avoided or blocked. Then Zack took Wang down with a sweep of his leg to Wang’s leg. As Wang was getting back up, Zack, with a yell, charged toward him and brought down a wicked chop toward Wang’s neck. Wang moved to avoid the chop, and Zack’s hand smashed through the thick hitching rail, breaking it into two pieces.
“Damn! Did you see how he broke that hitchin’ rail? It must be four inches thick,” someone called out, impressed by what he had just seen.
Wang rolled quickly out of the way and regained his feet. Again the two men made wicked thrusts toward each other, the kind of thrust that would have instantly brought down the average man. But neither of these two men were average.
Wang spun around and kicked his leg out, catching Zack in the chest. Zack went down but was immediately on his feet. Closing on Wang, he hit him on either side of the head, his cupped hands on Wang’s ears stunning him for a moment.
Zack took advantage of that and hit Wang with a two-hand thrust that again knocked him down. Wang fell where the two pieces of the hitching rail hung from the end posts, making a V with the point at the ground.
Zack grabbed one of the pieces and, ripping it free, raised it over his head. With a loud shout, he started down with the large club, intending to deliver a killing blow to Wang’s head.
Just before Zack could bring the club down, Wang shot his arm up, and the heel of his hand caught Zack on the tip of his nose. The blow caused Zack to drop the club as the splintered bones entered his brain. He fell backward on the street where he laid faceup, his arms out to either side of him. He wasn’t moving.
Wang knelt beside him, placed the tips of his fingers on Zack’s neck, then reached out to gently close Zack’s eyes. He bowed his head and remained quiet and unmoving.
“What the hell?” someone said. “Is he dead?”
“He ain’t moved a muscle since he went down, so he must be.”
Finally Wang got up, walked over to put his shoes back on, then he got Zack’s shoes and to the surprise of everyone, put Zack’s shoes back on his feet as well, doing it in a way that could almost be described as reverent.
Duff went over to put his hand on Wang’s shoulder. “Are you all right, Wang?”
“Shi. Loh was a friend from my youth. I am saddened by what happened here.”
With Jake and Kay
As all of Chugwater was buzzing with excitement over what they had just witnessed, Jake and Kay were just approaching something that had their hopeful attention. At first, it looked like nothing but little hillocks rising from the prairie before them, but as they drew closer they realized what they were seeing was a town.
“Jake, you did it!” Kay said. “You led us to a town.”
Jake chuckled. “If it is Bordeaux, I led us to it. If it is some other town, it was a matter of blind luck and we merely stumbled across it.”
“At this point it makes no difference. It is a town with a blacksmith shop, I hope. And a restaurant and a hotel with a means of taking a bath.”
“Yes, but all those things cost money,” Jake replied. “And here I am, the son of one of the wealthiest men in America, without a cent to my name. My hosts took all my money from me when they decided to make me their guest.”
“Yes, they took my money as well.”
“Then we are paupers who will be forced to beg, or attempt to convince them that I am who I say I am.”
“Well, we aren’t complete paupers,” Kay said with a lilting laugh.
“What do you mean?”
“The pistol isn’t the only thing I took from the late and unlamented Mr. Butrum. I also took all of his money, one hundred and two dollars.”
“Uh, Kay, forgive me for asking what I’m sure must be a very dumb question. But is one hundred and two dollars much money?”
Kay laughed out loud. “Only someone who is very rich could ever ask a question like that. Yes, honey, one hundred and two dollars is quite a substantial amount, especially under our current circumstances.”
“You have made me a happy man.”
“Ha, you mean I can buy you with one hundred and two dollars?”
“No, I mean because you called me honey.”
Kay started to say that the word honey came easily from her lips as she, and all t
he other hostesses, used that word with just about every cowboy who came into Fiddler’s Green for a drink. But she said nothing.
A few minutes later they rode into the little village.
WELCOME TO
BORDEAUX
Population 215
~Obey our Laws~
“Well, it would appear that it is your brilliant navigation and not merely a stroke of luck that brought us here,” Kay said.
“Pa would be proud,” Jake said with a little laugh. “I can’t wait to tell him of my skill as a navigator.”
At first glance, Kay saw that the town of Bordeaux seemed to be about one half the size of Chugwater. There was only one main street, running north and south, and it was intersected by two cross streets. The business establishments of the town appeared to be on both sides of the main street.
A single wagon was rolling up the street, coming toward them, and at least three horsemen were on the street, riding away from Jake and Kay. There were a handful of pedestrians on the walks and just as they were passing the Red Dog Saloon, a couple of patrons came through the swinging batwing doors.
“Well I’ll be damned! Would you look at that?” one of the two men called out. “There’s a man who’s a-ridin’ sidesaddle, ’n the woman with ’im is a-ridin’ astride. I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that in all my borned days!” The man punctuated his observation with a loud guffaw.
“I guess you can see who wears the pants in that family,” the other saloon patron said, laughing as loudly as his friend.
The strange sight of a man riding sidesaddle and a woman riding astride caught the attention of a few other pedestrians as well and though they stared in unabashed curiosity, no one, other than the saloon patrons, made any comments. Or, if they did make any comments they were so quiet that neither Jake nor Kay heard them.
What they did hear was the welcome, ringing sound of steel on steel, a blacksmith at work.
“Do you hear that?” Kay asked happily.
“Oh yeah, I hear it,” Jake replied.
The blacksmith was standing in the open door of his shop when Jake and Kay rode up, and just as had the other citizens of the town he looked in surprise at the strange scene of a man riding sidesaddle and a woman riding astride. But, when he saw Kay helping Jake dismount, and saw the leg irons on Jake’s ankles, the mystery was solved.
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