Chapter Thirty-three
Chugwater in the morning was alive with activity. Conveyances of every kind, from personal buggies to large freight wagons, rolled up and down the street. Businesses were beginning to open for the day’s business, and the boardwalks were filling with pedestrians.
Bo Hawken and Pogue Flannigan were in the C&FL office, talking with Ed Collins.
“Do you think you can find them?” Collins asked.
“Hell yes, I can find them,” Hawken said. “I mean, how hard can it be, what with him a-wearin’ them leg irons? They sure as hell can’t have gotten far last night. ’N seein’ as they didn’t come back to town, that means they’re still wanderin’ around somewhere between here ’n Tomahawk Mountain. I figure we can find ’em before this day is over.”
“All right. Find them,” Collins ordered.
“You’d better give us the key to Poindexter’s leg irons,” Hawken said.
“Why should I do that?”
“Well, think about it, Collins,” Flannigan said. “If he’s in leg irons, how are we supposed to get him back to the cabin? He can’t ride, ’n he can barely walk.”
“You won’t be bringing him back,” Collins said. “You won’t be bringing either one of them back. I want you to kill them.”
“What do we do with ’em after we kill ’em?”
“No need to worry about that. Wolves and buzzards will take care of them.”
“Hey, Collins,” Flannigan said with an evil smiled. “What about the woman. Is it all right if we . . . uh . . .”
“Do anything you want with her, before or after you kill her. All I care about is that both of them are dead.”
“Ha! I been waitin’ for this,” Hawken said. “Come on, Pogue, let’s go find ’em.”
Shortly after Hawken and Flannigan left, Collins walked from his office down to the Western Union office.
“Good morning, Mr. Poindexter,” Hodge Deckert said with a warm greeting. “Another telegram?”
“Yes.”
“I must say you have certainly given me a lot of business since you arrived. Another one to New York?”
“Yes. May I have the pad and pencil, please?”
Deckert provided the items, and Collins began to write. Our guest is gone. I have made plans to avoid an unexpected visit from him, but I feel it best to relocate C&FL.
Collins handed his message to Deckert. “Please send this right away and notify me the moment you receive a reply.”
Deckert read the message. “Oh, my, you are leaving Chugwater?”
“Just send the message,” Collins said. “Same address as before.”
* * *
When Collins returned to his office, he saw the banker, Bob Dempster, waiting for him. “Mr. Dempster, can I help you?”
“Mr. Poindexter, I have just been informed that a rather substantial amount of money is being transferred to your account.”
“How much is a substantial amount?”
“It is one hundred thousand dollars.”
“Yes, I’ve been expecting it,” Collins replied in a calm voice. “How soon will the money get here?”
“Well, the total amount won’t get here, of course. Only about twenty-five thousand dollars in actual cash will be transferred,” Dempster said. “For a transfer that large, it is actually all paperwork and calculations. You see, what we do is credit your account with the sum without actually having to make an actual cash transfer. You may withdraw it as you need it, and we’ll make adjustments to the balance.”
“Where is the actual cash now?”
“That’s what I’m trying to explain to you. There is no cash now. There is only a telegraphic accounting of the money. The cash, of course, is still in the bank of origin, which, if the last transfers are indicative, would be the New York Bank for Savings.”
“I know that some cash has been transferred here from the earlier transactions.”
“Well yes, of course, a rather significant amount of cash has actually been transferred. But more than half of the earlier transactions are still a matter of accounting between the four banks involved, the New York Bank for Saving, Wells Fargo in Denver, the Cheyenne Bank and Trust, and of course, this bank.”
“How much do I have?”
“At the moment you have just $97,000 credited to your account, but I would have to check to give you the exact figure.”
“All right. Suppose I walk down to the bank with you and we check.”
“Of course,” Dempster said, making an effort not to show that he was a little annoyed by his client’s attitude that seemed to border on mistrust.
* * *
“Your account is currently credited with ninety-seven thousand, six hundred and fifty dollars. Of course, as soon as we get the wire transfer confirmation from First Bank and Trust in Cheyenne recording the latest transfer, that amount will significantly increase,” Dempster said.
“I don’t want it to come here.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I want the credit of that one hundred thousand to remain in the First Bank and Trust in Cheyenne. Now, if you would, please tell me how much actual cash I have available for immediate withdrawal.”
“At the moment you have forty thousand dollars in actual cash.”
“Is the money bound?”
“Yes, it is just as we received it from Wells Fargo in Denver, twenty-dollar bills bound in bundles of one hundred.”
“That would be”—Collins paused for a moment to do some figuring—“twenty bundles. I wish to withdraw it all.”
“You . . . you are taking all your available cash from our bank?” Dempster asked, the tone of his voice indicating his disappointment over losing such a large account.
“Yes, I shall want all the cash that is available, and please transfer the remaining funds on credit to the account in Cheyenne.”
“Why would you do this?”
“I fear that the cost of doing business has become too dear in Chugwater. There are too many people who are opposed to the railroad. I’m sure I will be able to find a more friendly welcome somewhere else.”
“I understand that you have met with some opposition here, but there are just as many, or perhaps even more, who have been supportive. However, if you wish to leave, I’m sure I will be unable to change your mind. But I really wouldn’t recommend you traveling with that much cash on hand. If you wish, I can make a wire transfer of these funds to your new location.”
“No, I’ll be back for the cash.”
“Very good, sir.”
* * *
“Let’s stop here for a moment,” Jake said.
“Oh, are we lost?” Kay asked.
“No, I have another reason for stopping. Kay, would you help me get down, please?”
Kay dismounted, then walked up to Jake’s horse. She smiled at him. “If you have to find a place to, uh, have a little privacy, why didn’t you say so? I’ll stay with the horses while you go, then you can come back and stay with the horses while I go.”
“Sounds like a workable plan to me,” Jake said. “But I’d rather not do it from up here. I do believe it will work better if I can get down from the horse,” he teased.
“Oh, sorry ’bout that,” Kay said, stepping up to help him dismount.
Once down from the horse Jake pulled the pistol from his waistband and started to give it to Kay. Earlier they had divided Butrum’s two weapons, Kay keeping the rifle, and Jake taking the pistol.
“No, you may as well keep it,” Kay said. “You never know, you might see a rattlesnake,” she added with a chuckle.
“Oh, Lord, I hope not. But to tell the truth, I don’t even know what one looks like.”
“Don’t worry. If you see one, he will introduce himself to you.”
“What?”
Kay chuckled. “Why do you think they call them rattlesnakes?”
“Oh, yes, I suppose you’re right.” Jake walked into a copse of trees. “Mr. Snake, let’s be friends. I’ll only be a minute.”
Kay laughed as she saw him disappear behind the trees. She had never met anyone like him, and yes, she had only known him for a few days, but already she knew that she was in love with him.
How dumb of me! she scolded herself. I am a bar girl, and he is one of the wealthiest men in America. Oh, Jake, why couldn’t you be a poor cowboy ?
* * *
“There they are,” Hawken said quietly as he pointed.
“I only see the woman,” Flannigan replied. “Where’s Poindexter?”
“I figure he couldn’t keep up, what with being in leg irons, so she probably left ’im somewhere ’n is goin’ for help.”
“Yeah, but Collins wants both of ’em kilt.”
“We’ll find out from the whore where he is,” Hawken said.
* * *
“You been a bad girl, ain’t you? Last time I seen you, you was in the cabin.”
“Hawken!” Kay gasped, spinning around to see the two men approaching her. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m lookin’ for you,” Hawken said. “You the one that kilt Butrum? I figure it has to have been you, ’cause I don’t figure that eastern dude Poindexter coulda done it. Hell, he’d probably pee in his pants if he had to shoot a gun.”
“No, I just peed on a tree,” Jake said, his words startling Hawken and Flannigan. Jake was holding a pistol.
“What the hell?” Hawken shouted. He already had his gun in his hand and he swung it around to aim at Jake but he was too late. Jake pulled the trigger and Hawken went down. Flannigan’s pistol was still in the holster and he made a grab for it, but Jake shot again and, like Hawken before him, Flannigan went down.
“Kay, are you all right?” Jake asked, the smoking gun still in his hand.
“Yes, I am,” Kay said in an awestruck voice. “Jake, you were wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!”
Jake held the pistol out and looked at it. “Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I did pretty well at that, didn’t I?”
* * *
After learning from Charley Blanton that Kay had asked about the old Trail Back line cabin, Biff Johnson also found out that Kay had rented a horse from Mather’s Livery Stable.
“Yes, sir,” Ken Kern said. “She took Rhoda four days ago. She said she was goin’ for a ride.”
“Four days ago, and you haven’t reported it?” Biff asked, the tone of his voice displaying his anger and concern.
“I didn’t want to get her in trouble,” Kern said. “I wanted to give her a chancet to bring the horse back on her own.”
“She went to that cabin,” Biff said to Charley.
“Yes, I think so, as well.”
“I’m going out there to check it out.”
“I’m going with you,” Charley said.
* * *
As the two men dismounted in front of the cabin, they could smell the fetid odor of decomposition.
“Damn!” Biff said. “Only one thing can make a smell like that.”
“Oh Lord, Biff, you don’t think it’s the girl, do you?”
“I pray that it isn’t Kay, but we have to check it out.” Holding a handkerchief to his nose, Biff approached the cabin. As he got closer, he could hear the buzz of thousands of flies. He pushed the door open.
“Is it—” Charley started, but he didn’t finish his question before Biff answered.
“It’s one of the railroad policemen,” Biff said. “I’m not sure which one it is, but I think it might be Butrum.”