CHAPTER 26

KENTON exited the door onto the street. He noted a policeman going around a nearby corner, but the policeman did not see him. Kenton realized how conspicuous he was walking on a dark street carrying a lighted lamp. But it didn’t matter now. Gunnison might be in danger and that was much more important than whether he himself was caught.

He actually almost hailed the policeman, but cut off at the last moment. No policeman would listen to him right now. He’d simply be hauled summarily back to the station and jailed, the matter of Gunnison ignored.

The blood led Kenton into an alley. He traveled down it, expecting to encounter a fallen body at any moment.

Around the rear of the building, Kenton did find a body, lying crumpled on the ground. He saw right away that it was not Gunnison, though, and felt great relief.

But since this was not Gunnison, it must surely be the burglar. And it must have been Gunnison who had injured him.

Kenton knelt and examined the man. He was still breathing, but weakly.

“Mister, can you hear me?”

The man made no reply, only moaned softly.

Kenton gently rolled him over. The man groaned again. The front of his shirt was drenched in blood. His face was wide and fleshy, his eyes pinched shut. By the light of the lamp, Kenton could see that the man was very pale. In his day Kenton had seen enough men die to realize that this man was barely hanging on.

“I’ll try to get help,” Kenton said. “Hold on, hold on as hard as you can, and maybe we can still save you.”

But even as he finished speaking, Kenton saw something change in the man’s face. The fellow let out a weak, faltering breath, and grew still. Kenton sighed and stood. There was nothing to be done for this man now.

So once again the sole issue became Alex Gunnison. Where was he? If he had stabbed this man and fled the room, had he done so simply because he had panicked, or because he himself was injured and seeking assistance?

Kenton stepped across the body and advanced farther up the alley. He heard something in the vicinity of a storage building that was surrounded by stacks of empty boxes, casks, and assorted rubbish.

“Gunnison? Is it you?”

Something stirred, something too big to be a dog or a rat.

Kenton watched as a figure rose before him. Someone had been hiding behind the rubbish.

“Ma’am?” Kenton said to the woman standing before him. “Are you all right?”

The burning lamp still sat back in the alley near the fallen body, but it cast enough light even at this distance to let Kenton vaguely make out the woman’s features. The light played over his own face as well, and as so often happened, he found himself recognized.

“Mr. Kenton, sir?” she said, stepping forward.

She advanced, and he saw her clearly for the first time. As the lamplight revealed her face, Kenton gasped and stepped back, actually feeling faint.

He was looking into a face that was the very image of his lost Victoria.

*   *   *

Alex Gunnison couldn’t guess what would happen now. Kenton had done some crazy things in his time, but never anything like walking out of a police station.

The ramifications of this occurrence were many-layered. All the work he and Kenton had done in making up the missed assignments was certainly for nothing now. Gunnison knew his father too well to believe he would put up with having Kenton publicly embarrass the Illustrated American in this manner. It was one thing to be a little eccentric, a very different thing to be a fugitive and accused criminal. Gunnison could only hope that Kenton had a very good reason for pulling a stunt like this.

The question was, where had Brady Kenton gone? Denver wasn’t Kenton’s city. He didn’t know its every hiding place and back alley. Gunnison could only guess that Kenton had headed back to the rented room.

The room! Gunnison had forgotten for the moment that Rachel Frye was there! If Kenton did go back to the room, he would stumble upon her without a clue as to who she was or why she was there. Gunnison couldn’t guess how she would react to encountering Kenton, the man she had searched for over so many miles. Would she know him? What if she really was dangerous, and attacked Kenton?

Gunnison turned to go back to the room.

“Pardon me, sir.”

Gunnison wheeled very quickly, startled. Approaching him was the same man he had mistaken for Jessup Best a few minutes earlier. The fellow obviously had followed him.

Gunnison noticed for the first time the man slightly favored his right leg. He also noted the fellow had the look of a lawman about him. He’d always been able to spot them. This was worrisome, under the circumstances.

“Sorry to be calling you down, friend,” the man said as he strode up. “I almost didn’t do it, but if you don’t mind, there’s a question I need to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“When we spoke earlier on the street, you called me Mr. Best.”

“Yes, sir. You bear a strong resemblance to a man by that name whom I met in Leadville,” Gunnison replied.

“Well, in that case, I pity the poor devil,” the man said, grinning. “I regret that anybody else has had these looks inflicted upon them.”

Gunnison gave the obligatory chuckle, but he was in a hurry and had no time for idle talk. “Is there anything else you need to ask me?”

“Yes, sir, there is. Would you tell me the first name of the Best fellow you knew?”

“Jessup. Jessup Best.”

The stranger raised his thick eyebrows. “I thought that was the name you called. You knew Jessup Best?”

“I met him once, and had some conversation with him. He told me he might come to Denver, so when I saw you, I thought maybe he had shown up. You resemble him.”

This all seemed rather straightforward stuff to Gunnison, but the stranger was looking at him as if it were all very confusing.

“When did you meet this man?”

“A few days ago, in Leadville.”

“Tell me something about what he looked like, if you don’t mind.”

“Why are you asking? And who are you?”

“I ask your pardon, sir,” the ever-polite stranger said, touching his hat. “My name is Turner, Frank Turner. And the reason I’m asking these questions is that I knew Jessup Best very well. But the one you met can’t be the same man.”

“Why is that?”

“Because the Jessup Best I knew has been dead for nearly a year.”

Fine. So there was a coincidence of names. It happened all the time. There seemed to be no other reason to continue the conversation, and Gunnison was eager to get about his own rather urgent business. He started to turn and walk away, adding one last comment: “The Jessup Best I met is a Texas Ranger.”

“What?”

Gunnison stopped and repeated what he had said.

“Well, Mr.…”

“Gunnison. Alex Gunnison.”

“We’ve got quite a mystery on our hands, Mr. Gunnison. There’s only been one Jessup Best in the Texas Rangers, and that’s the man I knew. He’s dead, Mr. Gunnison. I know it for a fact. I was there. I took a bullet through the leg on the same occasion.”

“There has to be another Jessup Best in the Rangers. I met him days ago, and he certainly wasn’t dead.”

“I’m a Texas Ranger myself, sir. I tell you beyond any question that there’s only been one Jessup Best among the Rangers, and he’s dead and gone. The man you met was an imposter. How did he persuade you that he was a Ranger?”

“I had no reason to doubt him.”

“He must have looked a lot like me, else you wouldn’t have mistaken me for him.”

“He did. The way you walk, dress, talk … it’s all the same.” Gunnison paused, then asked, “Mr. Turner, come to think of it, how can I know that you are actually a Texas Ranger?”

Turner pulled back his duster and revealed a badge pinned to his shirt. Gunnison leaned over to examine it. Straightening, he said, “You’re some distance out of your normal jurisdiction, Ranger Turner.”

“That’s a fact. Let’s go have a drink together and let me talk to you about that, and a few other matters. I think it may be very important, maybe even providential, that we’ve run into one another. I have a notion I might know who this ‘Jessup Best’ you met really is.”

Gunnison was intrigued, but under the circumstances he couldn’t accept the invitation, not right away. “There’s something that I have to do right now,” he said. “Maybe I can meet you later?”

“Fine. I’ll be at the police station.”

“The police station … are you on special assignment with the Denver police, or something?”

“No. I’m separated from the Rangers for the time being. Kind of a forced vacation. But I’ve got a cousin, Henry Turner, up here on the local police force. I came to visit him, just to get away from Texas for a spell. I spend a lot of time at the station with him. Lack of anything better to do.”

Gunnison wasn’t eager to go back to the police station. Someone there might figure out he was Kenton’s partner and try to hold him. “Can we meet somewhere else?” He hoped Turner wouldn’t ask him why.

“There’s a bar on the next corner. Jericho Tavern. I’ll head that way in an hour or so. If you show up, I’ll see you.”

“Fair enough. I do want to talk to you, if the circumstances will allow it.”

“I’ll see you there.”

Frank Turner touched the brim of his hat again, nodding, and turned and limped off toward the police station. Gunnison watched him go for a moment, then headed in the opposite direction.