Robert B. Parker's Bull River Read online

  “We do,” Virgil said.

  “But seeing how it’s the two of you asking and not some of the other, less-qualified lawmen I have to deal with, it goes in your favor.”

  Virgil nodded. I nodded.

  “Right now, Alejandro is in custody,” Bing said. “That’s all. After his arraignment he will be in the system supported by the law. Currently, however, if he by chance were to be gone, it would be outside of my bailiwick. After the arraignment, the situation would be different.”

  “Understand,” Virgil said.

  “Well, I hope you do,” Bing said. “I could lose my job over this.”

  “That’s why we wanted to discuss this with you now,” Virgil said.

  “When do you want to do this?” Bing said.

  “We figure to get a fresh start in the morning,” Virgil said.

  Bing looked at us for a long minute, then spit.

  52

  Hawkins was sitting on the steps when Virgil and I walked out of the courthouse.

  “What’d he say?” Hawkins said.

  “Wasn’t happy about it,” I said. “But with Catherine missing, he somehow convinced himself.”

  Hawkins nodded a bit.

  “Navarro Depot wired back right away,” Hawkins said, “and all five passengers that boarded south had stock.”

  “Good to know,” Virgil said.

  “Don’t know about the two of you, but I could use some sleep,” Hawkins said. “Guess that will have to wait, though.”

  Hawkins got slowly to his feet.

  “Holly told me Wainwright sent his wife and son back to Saint Louis,” Hawkins said. “Wainwright told Holly he’d be at his ranch and for us to let him know when and if we found out anything.”

  Virgil nodded.

  “’Spect we ought to do that,” Hawkins said. “Let him know about his daughter. Don’t you think, Cole?”

  “I do.”

  “You want me to just ride out there and tell him?” Hawkins said.

  “No,” Virgil said. “Wouldn’t want you to have to row that boat alone, Webb.”

  “Appreciate it,” Hawkins said. “Damn glad to hear.”

  “He know about his son-in-law being gone?” I said.

  “He does,” Hawkins said.

  Virgil nodded a little but didn’t say anything.

  “I’ll get us some fresh horses,” Hawkins said.

  “Good,” Virgil said.

  “All right, then,” Hawkins said. “I’ll meet you back at your hotel and ride you out.”

  “Appreciate it,” Virgil said.

  It was scorching hot out when Hawkins showed up in front of our hotel. He was riding a thick-necked roan and was pulling a tall dun and a dapple gray.

  Virgil and I saddled the horses with our tack. Virgil took the dun, and I climbed atop the dapple gray. We took off, traveling east out of San Cristóbal. We crossed the river at a low ford and rode for about forty minutes toward the mountains and arrived at Wainwright’s ranch just before noon.

  On one side of the road leading to a big house, backed up to a stand of huge sycamores, there were fine-looking Thoroughbred horses behind a fence, watching us as we rode by. Off in the distance on the other side of the road, hundreds of cattle grazed on rolling hills of lush grass.

  “’Bout the nicest place I believe I’ve ever seen,” I said.

  “Is,” Virgil said.

  “Ain’t it, though?” Hawkins said. “It runs all the way as far as you can see. All the way to the bottom of those mountains there.”

  When we arrived at the big house, two Mexican barn attendants greeted us. They took our horses and told us Wainwright was on the back porch. They showed us to a path between rows of pepper trees that led to the back of the house.

  Wainwright was sitting alone on the tall porch, reading a San Francisco newspaper, when we walked up.

  “Mr. Wainwright,” Hawkins said.

  “Sheriff,” Wainwright said, getting to his feet. “Marshal, Deputy. Come up. Please.”

  Wainwright called into the house.

  “Josefa!”

  An older Mexican woman stepped out, and Wainwright told her in Spanish to bring lemonade.

  “Please sit,” Wainwright said nervously. “As you might imagine, I’m, well, damn anxious. What do you know? Have you found Catherine? Is she okay? Have you—”

  Virgil held up his hand, and Wainwright stopped talking.

  “We know she is alive.”

  Tears came to Wainwright’s eyes.

  “Thank God!” he said, and dropped in his chair. “Thank God! Where is she?”

  “Mexico,” Virgil said.

  “Mexico!” Wainwright said. “But how? What has happened?”

  “She was taken,” Virgil said.

  Wainwright squinted. He looked as though he might vomit.

  “By who?”

  “Turns out your son-in-law is not who he says he is,” Virgil said.

  Wainwright looked at each of us in turn, then rested his eyes on Virgil.

  “What?”

  “He’s a fella originally from Mexico,” Virgil said.

  “Mexico?” Wainwright said. “I’m sorry. I do not understand. If he’s not Henry Strode, then who, who the hell is he?”

  Virgil looked at me.

  “He assumed the identity of a man who died, Henry Strode,” I said. “And by all accounts he was doing a good job of it until his brother found him.”

  “What? His brother? I didn’t know Henry had a brother.”

  “Well, like Everett said,” Virgil said. “He ain’t Henry, and he did have a brother.”

  “Henry’s real name is Jedediah McCord,” I said.

  Wainwright shook his head in disbelief.

  “Turns out the brothers didn’t get on so well,” Virgil said.

  “His brother’s name is Dalton,” I said. “We’re not completely sure how it happened, but Dalton and a few of his men were behind Jedediah cleaning out the vault.”

  “They beat him,” Wainwright said, staring at the floor. “They beat him, left him for dead, and took my Catherine?”

  Wainwright looked to Virgil.

  Virgil nodded.

  “But why Catherine?” Wainwright said. “Why Mexico?”

  “We don’t know all the particulars,” Virgil said. “But we are determined to find her.”

  “Where in Mexico?”

  “We believe near Mexico City.”

  “Mexico City!” Wainwright said, shaking his head. “My Lord . . . Constable Holly told me about Henry, or . . . ?”

  “Jedediah,” I said.

  Wainwright nodded.

  “Yes, Jedediah,” Wainwright said, pronouncing the real name of his son-in-law for the first time. “Holly told me he escaped.”

  “He has,” I said. “He’s dogging his brother. He, too, is determined to find your daughter.”

  “And his wife,” Virgil said.

  53

  When we got back to town, Virgil and I rode over to the depot to book our travel south to Mexico.

  The outbound would depart San Cristóbal the following morning at eleven. The journey would take us through Navarro, then to Ciudad Juárez, Mexico. From Ciudad, we’d take the Mexican Central Railway down to Mexico City.

  Virgil and I left the depot at about three and set about our chores, getting ready for the long journey.

  After we got outfitted we settled into our hotel café for some early supper. We ate some ham with potatoes and cornbread, then made our way to our rooms for some much-needed shut-eye.

  A knock on the door shortly after seven woke me. I got up, opened the door. It was Mary May.

  She smiled.

  “Am I disturbing you?” she said.

  “You’re not.�
��

  “May I come in?” she said.

  “Be disappointed if you didn’t.”

  “Well,” she said. “I’m flattered and glad you feel that way and are not disappointed.”

  She smiled. I smelled her perfume as she walked past me. I closed the door behind her and turned to find her lips on mine. She kissed me. I kissed her back.

  She pulled away some, looking at my face. She put her hand to my cheek and stared at me.

  “What?” I said.

  “Nice face, Mr. Hitch.”

  I smiled.

  “Everett,” I said.

  “You’re not blushing, are you, Everett?” she said.

  “Not,” I said.

  She turned from me and looked around the small room.

  “I wanted to have a look at Harvey House’s competition.”

  “That what you wanted?”

  She smiled.

  “Don’t think there’s much competition here,” she said.

  She pushed the bed, checking its firmness.

  “Nice bed.”

  She sat on the bed.

  “Comfortable,” she said.

  She propped herself up at the headboard with a pillow behind her back. She crossed her arms.

  “I hear you found Catherine,” Mary May said.

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “I also know her husband had some sort of getaway,” she said. “You didn’t mention that before, but I knew.”

  “Your girls, no doubt?” I said.

  “I told you. They know everything.”

  “They ought to get into police work,” I said.

  “Yes. They should. It’s hard for them not to know everything that’s going on in San Cristóbal. I’m relieved to know you found her. What I said before about her being spoiled was true, but I believe she has a good heart.”

  “We located her,” I said. “Haven’t found her.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s with him,” I said.

  Mary May just looked at me.

  “I’d have to say it might not be the most pleasant of circumstances for her,” I said.

  Mary May was silent for a moment.

  “When you play with fire,” Mary May said.

  “Hard to know just what has happened,” I said. “But whatever did happen, I don’t think it’s got the makings for a lasting relationship.”

  “She was taken, Everett,” Mary May said. “I told you she maybe wanted to leave with him, but that is the fantasy of many young women with too much time on their hands, and in her case too much money and time. Their husbands work all day and they feel neglected, and then a charmer comes along.”

  “You know that for certain?”

  “Yes,” Mary May said. “Certain enough.”

  I thought about what she said for a moment.

  “What happens now?” Mary May said.

  “We go get her,” I said.

  “Have you told Mr. Wainwright?”

  “Your girls didn’t say?”

  She shook her head.

  “He’s been at his ranch,” she said.

  “We have,” I said. “We went out, talked to him.”

  “How is he?” Mary May said.

  “Happy she’s alive,” I said.

  She shook her head again.

  “I wish I could have done something to protect her,” Mary May said. “I really do.”

  “We were not certain how things were with Catherine, and we didn’t fill her father in on all the details, and I don’t suppose you will, either.”

  “Of course not,” she said. “Poor man.”

  “Poor he is not.”

  “Poor choice of words,” she said.

  “He’s upset,” I said. “But like I said, he’s happy to know she is alive.”

  “Me, too,” Mary May said. “Me, too.”

  I nodded, looking at Mary May, and smiled a little.

  She smiled a little, too.

  “When do you leave?” she said.

  “Tomorrow.”

  “What are your plans for tonight?”

  “I don’t have any plans.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  “You haven’t thought ahead?”

  “Nope.”

  “I have a few thoughts,” she said.

  “Me, too.”

  “I wonder if your thoughts are the same as mine?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Me, too,” she said.

  Mary May reached up and removed a few long pins holding up her hair.

  54

  The following morning, Constable Holly and the bankers, Walter Comstock and Truitt Ellsworth, stopped at the hotel when Virgil and I were drinking coffee with Hawkins on the front porch.

  “What an ordeal,” Holly said. “What an ordeal.”

  “What ordeal you talking about, Constable?” Virgil said.

  “Constable Holly here told us everything,” Comstock said. “And, well, it is a goddamn ordeal!”

  “Yes,” Holly said, “quite the ordeal!”

  Virgil looked at me.

  “What exactly are you getting at?” I said.

  “Well,” Holly said. “Everything. First, the two men who were in town to rob the bank last Christmas getting killed in the street, then you hunt and apprehend Alejandro for their murder, then he escapes and you find him again and bring him back to finally face the charges, then the bank robbery, and Mr. Strode being someone else other than who he pretended to be. Then Sheriff Talmadge getting killed in La Mesilla and you having to face two gunmen and them being killed, and Strode having a brother on the run with the money and Jantz Wainwright’s daughter in tow. And Strode, or whoever he is, in pursuit, and now you are taking Alejandro to find them.”

  Virgil looked at me.

  “Guess that is quite the ordeal,” Virgil said.

  “Is,” I said.

  “It goddamn is!” Comstock said.

  Virgil looked at me.

  “’Spect there’s gonna be more of the ordeal to come,” Virgil said.

  “You’d think,” I said.

  “Would,” Virgil said.

  “Henry Strode,” Ellsworth said, “working for us all this time and we had no idea he was an imposter.”

  “He was a good goddamn imposter, too,” Comstock said.

  “Yes,” Holly said, “and his wife, Catherine, now in trouble. The poor dear.”

  “Mr. Comstock,” I said. “When we were eating at that French restaurant, you said Catherine got around town.”

  “I said it was rumored she got around town,” Comstock said.

  “Where’d you hear that rumor?” I said.

  “Well,” Comstock said, looking to Ellsworth.

  “He heard that from me,” Ellsworth said.

  “What did he hear from you?” I said.

  “Shortly before the robbery,” Ellsworth said, “I saw her walking down the street with a fellow.”

  “What fellow?” I said.

  “I don’t know who he was,” Ellsworth said. “He was a handsome man.”

  “That’s it?” I said. “You saw them walking down the street?”

  “Well, yes,” Ellsworth said. “He was laughing, she was laughing, and it looked like they were having a fine time of it.”

  “That’s all?” I said.

  “Yes,” Ellsworth said.

  “Catherine is a vivacious sort,” Holly said.

  “Goddamn flirtatious,” Comstock said.

  Ellsworth nodded.

  “Well, you might say so,” Ellsworth said. “But I believe she loved Henry, and I know Henry was in love with her. He adored her. He was always showering her with gift
s. She would come to the bank and just sit and wait for him to finish work. For hours she’d sit in the lobby reading and, well, rumors are rumors.”

  “So you have no evidence she was with someone?” I said.

  “In the biblical sense,” Ellsworth said, “no.”

  Comstock nodded.

  “I’m sorry we was part of the mill,” Comstock said.

  “Well,” Holly said, “let me just say I’m very grateful to you both for your help in solving all this.”

  “Not solved yet,” I said.

  “Nope,” Virgil said. “Far from it.”

  “Well,” Holly said. “Nonetheless, I want you to know Sheriff Hawkins and I are very appreciative of everything you have done and are continuing to do.”

  “Agreed,” Hawkins said.

  Virgil nodded a bit.

  “It’s what we do,” I said. “Constable.”

  “It is,” Virgil said.

  “I hope the hell you find them,” Comstock said.

  “We are gonna do our best to find them,” Virgil said, “and straighten the rest of this ordeal out, Constable.”

  “I hope the hell so,” Comstock said.

  “You need to know something, though, Mr. Comstock,” Virgil said.

  “What’s that, Marshal?” Comstock said.

  “We got criminal elements we’re dealing with here,” Virgil said. “Everett and me will do what we can, but there ain’t no guarantee you’ll get your money back. And maybe not Catherine.”

  55

  It was the beginnings of yet another hot day when we loaded up our horses on the eleven-o’clock train headed for Mexico. Much to Alejandro’s dislike, we had him in shackles, and in the short walk from the jail to the depot, he’d already perturbed the hell out of Virgil.

  Hawkins stood on the porch of the depot with us as we boarded.

  “I’d go with you if I didn’t have a town to police,” Hawkins said.

  “I know, Webb,” Virgil said.

  “Hell of an ordeal,” Hawkins said with a grin.

  “Is,” Virgil said. “Hell of an ordeal.”

  Hawkins turned to Alejandro.

  “Where is the especial place you been talking about, Alejandro?” Hawkins said, as if he were throwing a dart at Alejandro.