Robert B. Parker's Bull River Page 13

  “He showed up with her,” Chuck said. “Then moved on with her.”

  “What do you mean he showed up with her?” I said.

  “He took off for a while, and when he came back, she was with him.”

  “Where’d he take off to for a while, before he came back?” Hawkins said.

  “We don’t know,” Chuck said. “Him, Drummer, and EG was gone for like a month. When they come back, she was with Dalton.”

  “And they didn’t say where they’d been?” Hawkins said.

  “Nope,” Chuck said. “Drummer and EG don’t talk much.”

  “Tell me about the woman,” I said.

  “Damn pretty,” Delbert said.

  “Was she happy?” Hawkins said.

  “What?” Delbert said.

  “Answer the question,” I said.

  “Hell, I don’t know if she was happy or not,” Delbert said.

  “We never met her,” Chuck said. “Or talked to her, even. She came to the café and ate, but I didn’t talk to her.”

  “Well,” Delbert said. “No shit. Why would she talk to you?”

  “Fuck you, Delbert,” Chuck said.

  “Drummer and EG didn’t say nothing to you about her,” I said.

  “No,” Chuck said. “Fact, they never say nothing about much of nothing.”

  “No shit,” Delbert said.

  “What did Dalton say to you when he took off?” I said.

  “Said good-bye,” Chuck said. “Said he wouldn’t be coming back to La Mesilla.”

  “He didn’t say nothing to me,” Delbert said.

  “He didn’t like you,” Chuck said.

  “Fuck you!”

  “He didn’t.”

  “That ain’t true,” Delbert said. “He gave me as much money as he gave you.”

  “Money,” I said. “What money?”

  “He gave each of us a new fifty-dollar bill when he left,” Chuck said.

  “And you got no idea where they went?”

  “I don’t,” Delbert said.

  Chuck shook his head.

  “Me, neither,” he said.

  “Anybody show up in La Mesilla looking for Dalton?”

  “You,” Delbert said with a sneer.

  “You see a man,” I said, “or know about a man, hear about a man looking for Dalton?”

  “In the last day or so?” Hawkins said.

  “Nope,” Chuck said.

  Delbert shook his head.

  “Where was Dalton staying the days before he left?”

  “The Oracle Hotel,” Chuck said. “On Fourth.”

  “Who killed the La Mesilla sheriff, Vernon Talmadge?” I said.

  45

  Debased and as drunk as they were, we learned a good deal from our question-and-answer session with Dalton McCord’s men. They provided us with some important details but left us with nothing to go on in respect to where Dalton, Catherine, and his two men were headed. We also learned that the man who killed Sheriff Vernon Talmadge was dead. It was Ozark Atkins’s younger brother Kale who shot Vernon in the back.

  We left the Last Chance and rode back to La Mesilla with the six men from Dalton McCord’s gang. Four of them were upright in their saddles. Two of them, Ozark and Kale, were draped over their saddles, their hands and feet secured and snugged with a half hitch.

  When we got back to La Mesilla we dropped off the dead men with the undertaker, locked up the other four in the jail, and made our way over to the Oracle Hotel on the east side of town.

  It was close to eleven-thirty in the evening when Virgil, Hawkins, Shep, and I entered the hotel.

  The Oracle Hotel was a small establishment, but it was clean. The small lobby had hanging lanterns covered with tin canisters. The canisters had holes punched in them, and the light shining through the holes made the narrow room look like it was covered with stars.

  A burly man was asleep in a chair by the front window with his trousers unbuckled, giving his big belly a breather. He awoke when Shep called his name.

  “Buster,” Shep said.

  Buster opened his eyes. He looked at Shep as if he didn’t recognize him at first, then offered a big smile.

  “Hey, Shep,” Buster said.

  Buster gazed up at the rest of us looking at him.

  “What’s going on?” Buster said.

  “Got some questions for you, Buster,” Shep said.

  “Well, sure, Shep.”

  Buster lifted himself out of the chair and buckled his trousers. Shep made our introductions.

  “What can I do for you?” Buster said.

  “Want to ask you some questions about Dalton McCord,” Virgil said.

  “Dalton McCord,” Buster said. “Well, sure. What would you like to know, Marshal?”

  “He been staying here?” Virgil said.

  “Until yesterday, he was,” Buster said.

  “How long had he been here?”

  “Oh. Let’s see, he’d only been staying here for a few days,” Buster said. “But then he up and left.”

  “You have any idea where he left to?”

  “No, sir,” Buster said. “I don’t.”

  “He have a young lady with him?” Virgil said.

  “As a matter of fact, he did,” Buster said. “Pretty young thing. He had two rooms. There was four of them altogether, but they all took off.”

  “You got any idea where the other two took off to?” Virgil said. “Where they went?”

  “I don’t know,” Buster said.

  “You speak with the woman?”

  Buster shook his head, looking back and forth between all of us.

  “No, Marshal,” Buster said. “I only saw her once, and that was when they checked in.”

  “You see anything or have reason to believe she may have been with Dalton unwillingly,” I said.

  “Unwillingly?” Buster said.

  “Yes,” Virgil said.

  “From what you witnessed,” I said. “You have any reason to believe that might have been the case?”

  “Oh, Lord,” Buster said. “No, I don’t believe so.”

  “You said there were four altogether,” I said. “Did you speak to the other two?”

  “EG and Drummer,” Buster said. “No, didn’t talk with them. They all left before daylight while I was asleep. I didn’t see them leave.”

  “EG and Drummer,” I said. “You know them?”

  “Know of them,” Buster said.

  “They been around La Mesilla awhile,” Shep said.

  “They were both quiet, didn’t talk,” Buster said.

  Shep nodded.

  “Those two got rattlesnake in ’em,” Shep said.

  “Anything else you might be able to tell us,” I said. “Anything helpful?”

  Buster shook his head.

  “All I can say is you’re not the only ones asking about Dalton McCord,” Buster said.

  I looked at Virgil.

  “Who else,” Virgil said.

  “Don’t know. A man came in here yesterday asking about Dalton and if I knew where he was.”

  “What’d he look like?” Virgil said.

  “Well,” Buster said. “He was wearing dark spectacles, and he looked like he’d been in on the losing end of a damn tussle with a badger.”

  “He ask you anything else?” I said.

  Buster thought for a moment, then nodded.

  46

  “He asked me where the closest train station was located,” Buster said.

  “What’d you tell him?” Virgil said.

  “Well, Navarro,” Buster said. “That’s the closest.”

  Virgil looked to Shep.

  “Navarro’s a day’s ride,” Shep said. “Small place, small depot.”<
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  Virgil, Hawkins, Shep, and I stepped out of the Oracle Hotel and started back to the jail. La Mesilla didn’t do much in the way of mourning Vernon Talmadge. The streets were crowded with honyocks and rabble-rousers making their way from one joint to the next.

  “How do you think Strode,” Hawkins said, “or Jedediah, or whatever his name is, knew to look for Dalton here in La Mesilla?”

  “Hard to know,” Virgil said.

  “But he knew,” Hawkins said.

  “Damn sure did,” I said.

  “But how did he know?” Hawkins said. “And of all places, he locates the sonofabitch in this hotel?”

  “They are brothers,” I said.

  “They are,” Virgil said.

  “Together as orphans,” I said. “Close, or were close.”

  “They got history.”

  “They do,” I said.

  “Like wolves,” Virgil said.

  “They are.”

  “You can only separate them so much,” Virgil said.

  “They find each other,” I said.

  “Like now,” Virgil said.

  “Yep.”

  “More like a couple of coyotes, if you ask me,” Hawkins said.

  We stopped on the boardwalk and waited as a dirty white Percheron pulling a heavy wagonload full of barrels of beer maneuvered around the corner.

  “No matter,” Virgil said. “One thing is for certain. Orphans, wolves, coyotes, whatever, we got brother dogging brother.”

  “And they got a day’s jump on us,” I said.

  “That they do,” Virgil said.

  After the beer wagon cleared, we crossed the street and made our way up the boardwalk, heading for the jail.

  “Day’s jump or not,” Hawkins said. “Now what?”

  “I can put together a posse in the morning,” Shep said. “See what we might be able to find.”

  “Good luck with that,” Hawkins said.

  “Worth a look,” Shep said.

  “’Spose it is, Shep,” Hawkins said. “But these two brothers have proved hard to find. Probably have better luck looking for renegade Mescalero.”

  “Least I can get down to Navarro Station,” Shep said. “See what we can find out in that direction. See if anybody knows anything or has seen them.”

  “Where do you think they’re headed, Cole?” Hawkins said.

  “Everett?” Virgil said.

  We walked for a moment before I answered.

  “Mexico,” I said.

  We continued to walk. Virgil didn’t say anything until Hawkins posed him with the question.

  “You think that, too?” Hawkins said.

  “Do,” Virgil said.

  “Where they came from,” I said.

  “It is,” Virgil said.

  “It’s what they know,” I said.

  “It is.”

  “Big damn country, Mexico,” Hawkins said. “Might not ever find them.”

  Nobody said anything for a bit while we walked. We passed a tiny gambling shack with two gals out front offering their goods, but we paid them no mind.

  “Good Lord,” Hawkins said. “You ain’t thinking you’d angle to get Alejandro to show you where he was talking, are you?”

  “Maybe,” Virgil said.

  “Goddamn,” Hawkins said.

  “Mexico is my hunch,” Virgil said. “Everett’s, too. And a good hunch, considering. But I want to make sure and check the train records at Navarro Station. See who went north and who went south before we do anything.”

  “And if they went south?” Hawkins said.

  “We follow,” Virgil said. “North or south.”

  “But your hunch is south?” Hawkins said.

  “Is,” Virgil said.

  “To that especial place Alejandro was talking about,” I said.

  “Which means asking Judge Bing for Alejandro’s help?” Hawkins said.

  “Does,” Virgil said.

  “Judge Bing won’t like it,” Hawkins said.

  “No,” Virgil said. “Don’t expect he will.”

  “If so,” Hawkins said. “Best get back to San Cristóbal and see the judge before Alejandro is arraigned.”

  “That’s what we’re gonna do,” Virgil said. “Shep, you do your posse tomorrow, but before you do, wire Navarro Station first thing in the morning and find out who boarded headed north and who headed south.”

  “Will do,” Shep said.

  We walked back through the busy streets, making our way to our horses at the jail.

  We drank some coffee with Shep. Then Shep packed us with some hardtack and jerky, and we mounted up just after midnight.

  Virgil, Hawkins, and I sat our horses in front of the jail and bid good-bye to Shep.

  “I don’t have to tell you, Shep, but I will,” Virgil said. “If for some reason these fellas we are after did not get on that train. If they’re still milling about for some reason. You be sure and tell that troop of deputies of yours to not act like heroes if by chance somebody does find Dalton and / or his brother.”

  “We’ll keep a tight circle, Virgil,” Shep said. “Been enough killing here for a while.”

  “Don’t you go getting into it with ’em yourself, either, Shep,” Virgil said.

  Shep nodded.

  “Don’t worry ’bout me,” Shep said. “I ain’t interested in dying, either.”

  We left Shep standing in front of the jail, and we rode out of La Mesilla.

  It was a bright evening. The moon was a glint fuller than the night I’d previously spent with Mary May Chase.

  It was also a hell of a lot better evening than tonight. I stopped thinking about Dalton and Strode, or Jedediah and where in the hell they may or may not be, and thought about being with Mary May as we rode.

  I’d never met anyone quite like her before. She was a freethinker, and though she managed herself very well and with genuine craft while we were under the covers, she was no church-house mouse when it came to upright issues concerning women and women’s rights.

  We had had ourselves a spirited debate about the thirteenth amendment, and we both agreed all people, no matter their race, religion, or gender, should have the right to vote. She was as appreciative as I was sympathetic with her and her views. And she showed her appreciation in ways that made me do what I was doing now as we rode along the road back to San Cristóbal . . . yawn.

  47

  Virgil, Hawkins, and I made it back to San Cristóbal by morning. The night ride returning to San Cristóbal was considerably easier than our heat-of-the-day ride to La Mesilla, and we made much better time.

  We were sleepy as we rode into town, but we knew we had to keep moving. The streets were starting to come alive with folks going about their day when we made our first stop at the Western Union office to see if there was any word from Shep concerning passengers boarding in Navarro.

  Virgil and I sat our horses, waiting on Hawkins as he checked with the operator in the office. After a moment Hawkins looked out through the window at Virgil and me and nodded. Hawkins waited on the operator to give him the telegram and walked out.

  “You were right,” Hawkins said.

  “They get on board in Navarro?” Virgil said.

  “They did,” Hawkins said.

  “South?”

  Hawkins nodded.

  “Got to be them,” Hawkins said.

  Virgil looked to me.

  “Here we go,” I said.

  Virgil nodded.

  “No passenger names on the manifest, but Shep’s wire says five people booked south passage out of Navarro and nobody north.”

  “All on the same train?” Virgil said.

  “No,” Hawkins said. “Four on Tuesday at four-thirty and one the following day at six-thirty.”


  “Book stock?” Virgil said.

  “Shit, don’t know,” Hawkins said. “Shep’s wire didn’t say. You want me to wire and see?”

  Virgil nodded.

  “Will do,” Hawkins said.

  I looked at Virgil.

  “Stock or no stock,” I said. “We need to get right behind them?”

  “We do.”

  “Goddamn lot of country south into Mexico,” Hawkins said.

  “There is,” Virgil said.

  “Looks like it’s that especial place Alejandro was talking about,” I said.

  “Does,” Virgil said.

  “Don’t think he’s just bullshitting you?” Hawkins said.

  “Oh, he’s get freedom on his mind,” Virgil said. “No doubt about that. All men behind bars do.”

  “They do,” I said. “All they can think about.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “There is a history with these three men, though,” Virgil said.

  Virgil had both of his hands draped across the horn of his saddle, looking off. He thought for a minute.

  “Everett,” Virgil said. “Let’s you and me go have us a final conversation with Captain Alejandro. Maybe we can get us some answers, some direction.”

  I nodded.

  “And Webb,” Virgil said. “Why don’t you see if you could let Judge Bing know we’d like to have a visit with him before the arraignment of Alejandro.”

  “You got it,” Hawkins said. “I’ll let him know right away, then get back here and send a wire, see what I can find out about stock or no stock.”

  “Good,” Virgil said.

  Hawkins climbed onto Blisters and trotted off up the street, and Virgil and I rode back to the sheriff’s office.

  48

  Cross was sleeping when we stepped into the room but nearly jumped out of his chair when he heard us.

  “Easy, Mr. Cross,” I said. “We’re just here to pay the captain a little visit.”

  Cross was still half asleep and much more pleasant because of it. He didn’t have much to say as he unlocked the door leading to the cells. We stepped in and closed the door behind us.

  Alejandro was shirtless, standing over the cell bucket, splashing his face with water. He turned, looking at us, and smiled wide.