Shootout of the Mountain Man (24 page)

“You asked for help, Bobby Lee. Did you think I was going to ignore you?”

“Well, with Nicole being dead and all, I wasn’t sure.”

“Whether Nicole is dead or alive, you’re still family. ”

Bobby Lee smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“What are you going to do now?” Smoke asked.

“I’m going to do what I started out to do,” Bobby Lee said. “I’m going to hunt down and bring in Frank Dodd. I figure that’s the only way I can clear my name.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Smoke said. “Do you have any idea where we start?”

“Where
we
start? Smoke, I appreciate you coming to get me out of jail, but I can’t ask you to get involved.”

“I broke you out of jail, Bobby Lee. Don’t you think that makes me involved?”

Bobby Lee smiled again, and nodded. “I guess you are right,” he said. “If you are sure you want to do this, I’ll be more than glad to have you along.”

“Tell me about Frank Dodd.”

“He is as mean as they come,” Bobby Lee said. “He led a group of raiders during the war, and he learned a lot about military operations. Now he runs his gang exactly like a military operation.”

“Which side was he on during the war?”

“Ha!” Bobby Lee said. “He was on his own side. If it helped him to ride under the Confederate flag, he did. If it helped him to ride under the Federal flag, he did that as well. Mostly, what he was after was the plunder, and he didn’t care which side he robbed from.”

“Sounds like a real trustworthy man,” Smoke said in a sardonic tone of voice.

“Yeah, he is.”

“What about Sheriff Wallace?”

Bobby Lee ran his hand through his long, unruly, dark hair. “I should never have trusted the son of a bitch,” he said. “I don’t know why he didn’t show up, or why he lied about our arrangement. Unless …”

“Unless he was in cahoots with Dodd,” Smoke said, completing the sentence for him.

“Yeah,” Bobby Lee said. “At my trial, they suggested that I was supplying Dodd with the information as to what train would be carrying money shipments. And of course, that has always been the big question. How did Dodd know? The suggestion was that I was providing him with information that I got from my association with the Western Capital Security Agency.”

“Does the WCSA have that kind of information?”

“Yes, we are generally informed. Sometimes, we even provide additional guards, though most of the time the shippers just rely on one messenger.”

“Would that information be available to anyone else?” Smoke asked.

Bobby Lee shook his head. “Not really,” he said. “They are pretty close with it, only the people who need to know, like the WCSA and—” Bobby Lee paused in mid-sentence.

“And the sheriff?”

“Yeah,” Bobby Lee said. “And the sheriff. I’ll be damned. That’s why he wasn’t in the express car with them. He was in cahoots with them.”

“When I was coming down here, Dodd tried to hold up the train I was on,” Smoke said.

“Really? Where?”

Smoke told him about the attempted holdup, including in his narrative the fact that Phillips and Garrison had been identified, while a third robber who had also been killed had not been identified.

“Hmm, Phillips and Garrison must have been new,” he said. “I don’t believe I ever met them. What did the other man look like?”

“He wasn’t a very big man, had a pockmarked face, thin, sort of light brown hair.”

“Had to be Wayland Morris,” Bobby Lee said. “If you killed him, it was good riddance. He once killed a farmer, then raped his wife and daughter before killing both of them.”

“Too bad I killed him,” Smoke said.

“What?” Bobby Lee asked, surprised by the reply. “Why would you say that?”

“Shooting is too good for someone like that. That’s the kind of person that the public needs to see hang.”

Bobby Lee ran his finger around the collar of his shirt. “After seeing my gallows built, hanging isn’t something I care to think about right now,” he said.

Smoke laughed. “I don’t blame you, but look at it this way. We did manage to spoil your hanging party, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Bobby Lee said. “Thanks to you, we did.”

* * *

Eddie Murtaugh had been with the Western Capital Security Agency for three years. During that time he had often been partnered with Bobby Lee Cabot, in fact had learned everything he knew about the business from Bobby Lee. He considered Bobby Lee his best friend.

“He didn’t do it,” Murtaugh told Captain Bivens.

“I know how you feel, Eddie,” Captain Bivens said. “I feel the same way. I’ve known Bobby Lee longer than you have. But the evidence is just too convincing. Frank Dodd has been terrorizing trains and stagecoaches all through Nevada. He always knows when they are carrying money. Last month, Frank Dodd held up a Nevada Central train and got five thousand dollars. Everyone had been wondering how Dodd was getting his information on which trains were carrying the money, and now it seems pretty obvious that he was getting it from Bobby Lee. And don’t forget, Bobby Lee was with Dodd when he hit that train.”

“Yes, but I believe Bobby Lee had worked his way into the gang in order to catch them,” Murtaugh insisted.

Captain Bivens shook his head. “Eddie, you’ve been with us long enough to know that we don’t operate that way. ”

“Maybe he didn’t see any other way of stopping them,” Murtaugh suggested.

“Why didn’t he let us know ahead of time what he was doing?” Captain Bivens asked.

“You wouldn’t have approved,” Murtaugh said.

“No, I wouldn’t have,” Bivens agreed. “Our rules are very specific, Eddie, you know that. There is never any reason for joining with the criminal element. When you do so, you risk not only your own life, but you could wind up risking the lives of others as well, to say nothing of bending the very laws we are trying to protect. It could also jeopardize an ongoing investigation.”

“There you go then. That’s the reason Bobby Lee didn’t tell you about it.”

“There’s one more reason we don’t want our agents associating with the criminal elements,” Bivens said. “Sometimes the pressures, and the temptations, can be overwhelming—so much so that a man might forget what side he is on.”

“That did not happen to Bobby Lee. I know you have known him longer, Captain, but he and I have put our lives on the line together many times. I don’t think anyone knows him better than I do, and I am telling you, he was not involved with Frank Dodd. He may have violated a WCSA rule, but if he did, I’m sure he thought that it was the only way he could bring Dodd in. I’ll never believe he has gone bad.”

“Your loyalty is commendable,” Captain Bivens said. “But I have the integrity of the WCSA to think of. That’s why I have offered a reward of five thousand dollars for him.”

“Dead or alive,” Murtaugh said.

“You understand the way it is out here,” Captain Bivens said. “If we are to have any chance of bringing him to justice, we have to make the offer dead or alive.”

“You are condemning him to death,” Murtaugh said bitterly. “That takes on the role of judge and jury.”

“He has already been condemned. He was found guilty of murdering the express agent and sentenced to be executed. He escaped, which makes him fair game for such a reward. I have assumed no role that is inconsistent with existing circumstances. ”

Murtaugh lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I know you are upset and concerned about your friend,” Captain Bivens added. “But he made his own bed and now he must sleep in it. In the meantime, we go on. Are you willing to take on a new assignment?”

Murtaugh nodded.

“Good. I am putting you in charge. I want you to take two men with you. You will board the Virginia and Truckee Railroad at Carson City, and ride with it all the way to Columbus.”

“You are sending three of us?”

“Yes.”

“There must be quite a bit of money involved if you are going to use three of us.”

“One hundred thousand dollars,” Captain Bivens said.

Murtaugh whistled. “One hundred thousand dollars? That is a lot of money. Wouldn’t it be safer to just keep the shipment secret?”

“Hard to keep it secret when you have something like this going out all over the state,” Captain Bivens said, he voice registering his disgust. He picked up a newspaper from his desk.

“What is that?” Murtaugh asked.

“Read it,” Bivens said, unable to hide the disgust he felt over the article.

Murtaugh looked up from the newspaper article. “That’s only four days from now,” he said.

“Yes. Can you have your men selected and be ready by then?” Captain Bivens asked.

Murtaugh nodded. “I can.”

“Then the assignment is yours.”

“Thanks,” Murtaugh said, turning away from the desk and starting toward the door.

“Mr. Murtaugh?” Captain Bivens called toward him.

Murtaugh turned back in response to the call.

“Yes, sir?”

“I am sorry about your friend. But please don’t let friendship get in the way of your performance of duty.”

“I don’t understand, sir,” Murtaugh replied. “How could my friendship with Bobby Lee affect this assignment?”

“If you are right about him, it won’t affect it in anyway,” Captain Bivens said. “But, if I am right about him …” He let the sentence trail off.

“You think he might try and hold up the train?”

“There is that possibility, yes.”

“If he does, he will no longer be my friend,” Murtaugh said. “He will just be another train robber, and that is exactly the way I will treat him.”

“You are a good man, Eddie Murtaugh,” Captain Bivens said.

“Thank you, sir. But so is Bobby Lee Cabot. I’m not worried about my obligation, because he won’t be the one robbing the train.”

At the Gold Strike Saloon, sun bars slanted in through the door and windows, highlighting the thousands of dust motes that hung in each beam of light. It was too early in the morning for customers, but that didn’t mean that the saloon was empty. Paul, the bartender, was washing and polishing glasses. The handyman, Jesus Rodriguez, was working with a mop and bucket, making passes across the floor. Despite his best effort, the mop did little to clean the floor of expectorated tobacco juice and quid residue. Nate Nabors, who employed a piano player to keep the atmosphere lighthearted when he had customers, was actually quite an accomplished pianist himself, and often played for his own enjoyment. This was just such an occasion, and he was sitting at the piano playing the Reverie by Schumann. It was a quiet and relaxing piece, geared to the moment.

Of all the women who worked at the saloon, Minnie was the only one up at this hour, and she was sitting at a table near the piano, having her breakfast of biscuit and coffee while enjoying the music. It wasn’t required that she be here yet, none of the women were required to be at work before noon, but Minnie thought she would rather be here than alone in her room, worrying about Bobby Lee and Smoke Jensen, wondering where they were at this exact moment.

Doc Baker came into the saloon then, smiling, and waving a copy of the
Cloverdale News Leaf.

“Wait till you read this!” he announced loudly, though to no one in particular.

Nabors, having just finished his piece, got up from the piano and stepped over to the table where Minnie was sitting.

“What is it?” Nabors asked.

“Huh-uh,” Doc Baker said, shaking his head. “Read it, then we’ll talk about it.”

“Do you mind if I read it over your shoulder, Nate?” Minnie asked.

“Don’t mind at all.”

Doc Baker laughed. “Knowing how much Marvin Cutler wanted to see Bobby Lee hang, it must have killed his soul to have to write this.”

“What makes you think Marvin wanted to see Bobby Lee hang?” Nabors asked.

“Ha! Why do you even have to ask? You read that article he wrote about Bobby Lee. What was it he said in that last paragraph? Oh, yes, I remember.” Doc Baker cleared his throat, then quoted the article in a stentorian voice, as if reading aloud. “A great crowd present to witness Cabot being delivered into the hands of Satan will send a signal to all who would contemplate duplicating Cabot’s foul deed.”

“Marvin Cutler is the consummate newspaper-man,”

Nabors said. “He is sometimes prone to be a bit overblown with his stories.”

“A bit overblown? He is a pompous blowhard,” Doc Baker said.