CHAPTER NINETEEN
Red Ryan and Buttons Muldoon occupied two small, cramped rooms at the rear of the Alpenrose Inn that were reserved for stage drivers and shotgun messengers.
About the time Donny Bryson settled down for the night, Red Ryan awakened with a tap-tap-tap at his door. Thinking it might be another Buttons crisis, he rose, put on his hat, and opened the door, standing there in his long-handled underwear.
“Did I waken you?” Augusta Addington said. A slight smile tugged at her lips. She was fully dressed and held a brown manila envelope in her hand.
Red stammered his confusion and embarrassment. “Yes, I mean, no. I mean . . . let me get decent.”
“You’re decent enough,” Augusta said. She elbowed Red aside and stepped into the room. “Exciting, huh?” she said as her smile grew.
“Of course, it’s exciting. Do you always come to a man’s room at this time of night looking as pretty as a field of bluebonnets?” Red said. He pulled the patchwork quilt from his cot and held it around him.
“No, not always,” Augusta said. “Just when I need something.”
Red opened his mouth and tried to speak but the words stuck in his throat. That night he thought the woman somewhat beyond beautiful, her face as delicate as bone china, dark eye makeup, full lips glossy pink, eminently kissable. Large breasts swelled against the thin stuff of her dress, and she smelled like . . . Red tried for a way to describe it . . . like a woman who’d just risen from a bed of musky wildflowers.
“What . . .” he swallowed hard . . . “do you need?”
“Your help,” Augusta said.
“What . . . what kind of help?” Red said.
“The kind of help that saves lives,” Augusta said. She read the disappointment on Red’s face. “Not quite what you were expecting?”
“A woman shoves her way into a man’s bedroom at night, what should he expect?” Red said.
“If he was a gentleman, he might expect that being a damsel in distress was her only reason.”
“Like you?”
“Like me.”
Red took a deep breath and said, “There’s a chair. Why don’t you sit and tell me what this is all about? Then I can simmer down and get back to bed.”
Augusta sat and for a moment played with the springy coil of hair that had fallen over her forehead. Then, she dropped her hand and said, “I’m not a French and English tutor.”
“And I’m not surprised to hear that. Go on.”
“But I am a Pinkerton agent.”
“You mean a detective, like they have in the dime novels?”
“Yes. I work for the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”
“Huh. Now I am surprised.”
“I was hired by Mr. Allan Pinkerton himself, and it was he who gave me this letter.” Augusta opened the manila envelope and produced a single sheet of paper. “I’d like you to read it.”
Red looked bewildered. “But why me?”
“Because I can’t trust the law, but I believe I can trust you. Red. You’re a shotgun messenger, and that means you’re a brave and resolute man who’s good with a gun and can care of himself.”
“Lady, I’m only brave part of the time,” Red said. “Maybe half the time.”
“And the other half?”
“If the other half was melted down it couldn’t be poured into a gunfight.”
Augusta smiled. “Then I’ll be happy to accept the help of even half a brave man.”
“What’s in the letter?” Red said.
“I think you should read it. Della Stark, the daughter of the rancher Gideon Stark, sent it to Allan Pinkerton. But Mr. Pinkerton was very sick from gangrene, so he handed over this investigation to me before he died.”
“I don’t think that the daughter of Gideon Stark, one of the richest men in Texas, needs to ask anybody for help,” Red said.
“She does if she suspects her father or some other party could be scheming to murder the man she loves,” Augusta said.
“Let me see the letter,” Red said. “But I ain’t making any promises.”
Augusta passed the letter over. It was fairly short and to the point.
My dear Mr. Pinkerton,
My name is Miss Della Stark, the daughter of Gideon Stark, the Texas rancher and I am writing to you because I need your help on a matter of the greatest moment. To put matters in a nutshell, I am in love with a man, a physician, but my father demands that I wed another, like himself a wealthy rancher and a hidalgo in his native Old Mexico.
My father has recently informed me that if I meet with the doctor again, I will be locked in my room at the ranch until I agree to marry his choice of husband, ere it take years of imprisonment. By a most singular circumstance, one of my father’s drovers let slip in my presence that my physician’s life is now not worth “a plugged nickel.”
Mr. Pinkerton, I fear a terrible murder is about to take place, and I beg you to do all in your power to prevent it.
Yours Respectfully,
Della Stark
Red passed the letter back to Augusta, who took it and said, “The letter was mailed from here, the Alpenrose Inn. Miss Stark reserves a room for overnight stays when she visits town.”
“Where is the doctor?” Red said.
“I made some enquiries, and there are three doctors in Fredericksburg,” Augusta said. “I’ll know more when I speak with Miss Stark tomorrow.”
Red smiled. “Do you really think a highly respected rancher like Gideon Stark is going to send some of his boys to punch the ticket of a small-town sawbones? For God’s sake, he’d be looking at a noose or twenty-to-life in Huntsville.”
“Red, the nineteenth century is quickly coming to a close, and the old ways are dying fast,” Augusta said. “Men like Stark no longer do their own killing. He’ll hire a professional so that the doctor’s death can’t be traced to him. I’m sure he doesn’t want his daughter to know that he was responsible for the murder of her lover.”
“I’m pretty sure she’d figure out that her old man was behind the killing,” Red said.
“But she’d never know for sure,” Augusta said. “And that alone would probably prevent her hating him for the rest of his life.”
“Or she’d know, but couldn’t prove it,” Red said.
“Either way, Gideon Stark gets what he wants. The doctor is dead, his daughter marries a rich hidalgo, two enormous ranges are joined in holy matrimony, and Stark becomes one of the richest and most powerful men in the country. He’s a big man who wants to be bigger, and such an alliance could take him all the way to the presidency of the United States.”
“You sure credit ol’ Gideon with a sight of ambition,” Red said.
Augusta said, “From what I’ve heard and read about Stark, he gets what he wants, and he wants it all. He takes on all comers and makes the big operators toe the line and the small ones bunch up and eventually surrender. Some men lust after wealth, others after women, but Gideon Stark lusts after power. Not too long ago north of the Perdinales there were eight major ranches and a dozen smaller ones. Today, there’s only one, the Stark Cattle Company. The rest were bought out, burned out, or just fled the country. The law turned a blind eye. They knew who and what they were dealing with, and no one wanted to take him on.”
“Seems like the Texas Rangers would’ve shown an interest,” Red said. “Maybe they still would.”
“The Rangers had their hands full, first with Comanches and now with the Apaches,” Augusta said. “Meanwhile Gideon Stark enforces his own brand of law in most of Central Texas, and the Rangers are happy to let him be. You don’t bite the hand that helps feed you.”
“Augusta, where is this going?” Red said. “You asked for my help, but I can’t see that there’s anything I can do for you.”
“There’s one thing you can do for me, Red. Make sure that Della Stark’s doctor stays alive.”
Red’s spine stiffened. “Augusta”—he noticed she wore earrings, plain little gold hoops—“that ain’t gonna happen. Me and Buttons will leave this burg as soon as we sign up passengers. Sooner, if Buttons decides we should just cannonball back to San Angelo empty.”
“Speak to Buttons, Red. Give me a couple of days.”
“Why? I mean, it could be weeks, months, before a hired gun shows up to shoot the doc,” Red said. “Heck, even Sheriff Ritter can handle that.”
“Red, I think the killers are already here,” Augusta said. “I believe the doctor doesn’t have days or months. Right now, I think his life can be measured in hours.”
“What do you want me to do? Hang around the doc’s surgery with a Greener scattergun in my hands? His patients would love that, huh?”
“I want you to save a man’s life, but I don’t know how you should do it,” Augusta said. “I’m pretty new to this detective business myself. In fact, this is my first case.”
“Your first case.” Red groaned. “And you plan to brace one of the most . . .”
“Powerful men in Texas. Yes, I know. But I won’t stand idly by and see an innocent girl stampeded to further her father’s ambitions.”
“You said the killers are already here. Why do you think there’s more than one? How many hired guns does it take to put a bullet in a pill-roller?”
“More than one if Gideon Stark wants his killing done right,” Augusta said. “Nothing must tie him to the doctor’s murder, so he’s hired the best professionals he could find, men who do their job and leave no loose ends behind them.”
“Who are these men?” Red said. “Heck, Augusta, if they’re as good as you say, me and my Greener may not be enough.”
“I have my suspicions, but I can’t prove them, at least not yet,” Augusta said. “And yes, Red, you may not be enough. Maybe a regiment of infantry wouldn’t be enough.”
“I can’t bring the exact entry in the rule book to mind, but since you were a fare-paying passenger of the Abe Patterson and Son Stage and Express Company and may be again, I believe it’s my duty to help you all I can,” Red said. “I’ll talk to Buttons about it.”
“I hope he’ll give you good advice,” Augusta said.
“Well, I’ve never known Buttons Muldoon to say a foolish thing,” Red said. “Of course, I’ve never known him to say a wise one, either. But maybe he’ll come up with a solution to your problem.”
Augusta rose to her feet. In her white dress, she looked like a column of fine marble. “One last thing, Red,” she said. “If I don’t make it . . .”
“What do you mean, if you don’t make it?”
“If I’m killed, please tell the Pinkerton agency that I did my job. There are other female detectives, and I don’t want to let them down.”
“You won’t get killed,” Red said. “I’ll see to that.”
“You will tell them? Red, please, if it happens, I want you to tell them.”
Red saw seriousness and a trace of fear in the woman’s face, and he suddenly felt woefully inadequate. “I’ll tell them,” he said. It was all he could manage.