“Alex!”
Kenton came bounding through the doorway, preceded by a young policeman with a smoking pistol in hand. Kenton ran to Gunnison and pulled him up and free. The policeman went to Chop-off’s body and stared down at it. Now Gunnison knew who the two passersby below the window had been.
“Alex, thank God you’re alive!” Kenton said.
“I’ve never killed anyone before,” the policeman said, still staring at the corpse.
“He would have killed me,” Gunnison said. “You did what you had to do.”
The earlier gunfire and general tumult had drawn attention, and now others entered the building and climbed the stairs. Gunnison explained what had happened as best he could and then was quickly hustled off to Kelly’s office along with Kenton and the young officer who had saved Gunnison’s life. The officer, Kenton would later explain, had come along at the most fortuitous moment, having responded to Gunnison’s gunshot in the alley when Chop-off had first attacked. Kenton had lost Chop-off’s trail sometime before and was desperately trying to regain it when he and the officer met. They heard Gunnison’s cry from the window and entered the vacant building just in time to save his life.
Kelly was surprisingly calm, given his earlier attitude toward Kenton and Gunnison. He questioned Gunnison closely, then Kenton, and finally the officer, and when it was done, seemed satisfied that what had happened was an honest case of police action to halt a murder.
Kelly sat down on the edge of his desk and revealed why his attitude had softened. “I talked to Lundy O’Donovan a few minutes ago. He’s reversed his story. He’s now backing up what you said, Mr. Gunnison. He says there was a body in the mine. He said he had found it even before he took you to it. Lundy also told me that he was attacked at the mine by Chop-off Johnson, and that there was another man there, too. He said he lied because he was afraid the men would hurt him and his family if he told the truth.”
“Was the second man George Currell?” Gunnison asked. Both Kenton and Kelly reacted with surprise.
“We suspect so…but how did you know?”
“I saw Currell tonight, right after Kenton took off after Johnson. I was only with him a few moments, but the things he said, the way he acted—I suspected he had been involved.”
“Alex, maybe you’re learning to think like a good journalist at last,” Kenton said in a tone of admiration.
“Please, Mr. Kenton, let me do the talking,” Kelly said gruffly. “Did you see where Currell went?” he asked Gunnison.
“No—he ran off into the dark. He seemed very upset to learn that Chop-off had started the fire. And it was strange…he acted unpleasantly surprised to find out Chop-off was even alive. I didn’t really understand it all.”
“Well, maybe soon we’ll have answers for you. We’re looking for Currell right now,” Kelly said. “Lundy couldn’t identify him for us, but we know Currell and Chop-off Johnson ran together some. Now that Johnson is dead, Currell may be the only way to finding out if there is anyone else behind all this.”
“Briggs Garrett, perhaps?” Kenton said.
“Mr. Kenton, I instructed you to be quiet,” Kelly snapped. “But since you mentioned it, yes, I must consider the possibility that the Briggs Garrett rumors might have a factual basis. Given the fire tonight, and this shooting death, this town is going to absolutely blow up with more speculation. People here are eager to believe that Briggs Garrett is alive and up to his old tricks, and believe it they will. It’s going to behoove me and my men to try to either disprove or verify all these blasted rumors, and if they are true, to find Garrett and put him into custody. Otherwise we’ll just have more innocent people being hurt or killed, like that poor old man who got shot down outside that dance hall.”
“Marshal, may I ask one more question?” Kenton said.
Kelly looked perturbed, then shrugged. “Go ahead.”
“Is the O’Donovan family safe? If there really is someone—Garrett or otherwise—pulling the strings from the background, Lundy could still be in danger.”
“The family is safe,” Kelly replied. “We’ve found someone with the space and means to take them in, and no, I won’t tell you who it is, because I don’t want you poking around them. In fact, Mr. Kenton, I still hold your presence here largely responsible for perpetuating these rumors.”
“You have a right to your opinion.”
Kelly stretched and yawned. He had gotten only a little sleep before the night’s ruckus broke loose. “And what about you, Mr. Gunnison?” he asked. “Do you feel the need for police protection?”
“I think I can take care of myself,” said Gunnison.
“I feel the same,” Kenton replied.
“I didn’t ask you, Kenton, in case you didn’t notice,” Kelly said. “Very well, Gunnison—it’s your choice. But let me warn you both: I catch you in the middle of any more trouble, and you’ll find new quarters in my jail.”
The door opened, and an officer thrust in his head. “The O’Donovans are ready to go, Marshal.”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Send them on, then.” The officer nodded and started to withdraw, but as an afterthought Kelly asked, “Where’s Sullivan? I haven’t seen him since I came in.”
The officer shrugged. “No one else has either, Marshal. I’d been wondering about him myself.”
“He’ll turn up, I guess, and he’ll have a talking-to due him when he does. I don’t like my men making themselves scarce when things are busy.”
The officer withdrew. Kelly yawned and stretched again. “What a job,” he muttered. He waved toward the door. “You two get on out—I’ve had my fill of you for tonight.”
When they had left the station, Kenton said, “You know, for some reason, I’m beginning to like Kelly, in a way.”
“Now I know you’ve gone loco on me,” Gunnison replied. “He’s one of the harshest coots I’ve run across.”
“Yes, but at least he knows you’re no liar now…Alex! Look there.”
Kenton indicated a large carriage that had just pulled around the side of the station, drawn by an impeccably groomed chestnut horse. In the driver’s seat was the most distinguished-looking black man Gunnison had ever seen. He wore formal clothing and sported a headful of thick graying curls, closely cropped. At first, Gunnison’s eyes were drawn mostly to the driver, but as the carriage turned and clattered off, he saw a face peering out from behind the drawn curtains.
“That was Lundy O’Donovan!” Kenton said. “And I’ll bet the seat of my pants that that driver is taking the O’Donovans to wherever it is they’ll be put up. And I admit, I’d like to know where that is. It could be useful. Besides, I like the idea of knowing something Kelly doesn’t want me to.”
“Shall we follow?” Gunnison asked, hoping the answer would be no, for he was longing to return to his bed.
The answer, of course, was yes, so Gunnison found himself trotting along in the street, trying to keep the carriage within view. It made a turn ahead, and Kenton pulled him into an alley, shortcutting to the next street. So their course continued for a few minutes until at last they saw the carriage pulling into a driveway beside a familiar tall house on Chestnut Street.
“Kenton, that’s the same house where I saw the girl looking out of the upper window,” Gunnison said. He was half afraid to say it, for he remembered the obvious pain the subject had caused Kenton before.
“Yes—but even more interesting than that, Alex—look at the name on the door.”
Gunnison drew closer, squinted. “‘Chrisman.’ Kenton, isn’t that—”
“The same house where Mickey Scarborough died? Indeed it is.”
“Well, this Chrisman woman must be a generous sort, taking in Scarborough and then the O’Donovans too.”
“It would seem so, wouldn’t it?” Kenton replied. “Well, let’s get back to our quarters again, and maybe get a little rest before the new day comes bearing down on us.” He patted Gunnison’s shoulder. “Quite some exciting nights you’ve had lately, Alex. Our Leadville trip is one you’ll never forget.”
“If I live through it, I’m going to do my best to try,” Gunnison muttered.
He and Kenton turned and walked away together.