The big gundown (7 page)

Morgan wasn’t particularly surprised. He knew that a lot of tycoons had their own private railroad cars. When he was still Conrad Browning, he might have enjoyed such a thing himself.

The two of them went up a set of iron steps to the platform at the rear of the closest car, which was a thing of beauty, all polished brass and dark wood. Augustine knocked on the vestibule door, which was opened a moment later by a stout woman in a maid’s uniform. “
Herr
Augustine,” she said in a German accent, “please come in.
Herr
Sheffield is waiting for you.”

“He hasn’t been waiting long, I hope,” Augustine said with a smile.

“
Ach
, no. He and
Frau
Sheffield just finished their dinner a few minutes ago.”

Morgan thought back, trying to remember what, if anything, he had ever heard about Sheffield’s wife. He didn’t recall much, only that she was in bad health. He wondered if she had come to Arizona Territory with her husband because of the warm, dry climate. Sheffield’s home was in Chicago, Morgan remembered. The winters there would be hard on someone who was sick.

The maid took their hats and led them through the vestibule into an elegantly appointed sitting room. Morgan had seen plenty of hotel rooms that weren’t as elegantly and comfortably furnished as this railroad car. A slender man rose from a divan to greet them. He held a drink in one hand, a long, thick cigar in the other. His gray hair was parted in the center and thinning on top. He had a mustache and rather bushy muttonchop whiskers.

“Augustine,” he said with a curt nod, then gestured with the cigar toward Morgan. “This is the man you mentioned in the note you had delivered to me?”

“That’s right, Mr. Sheffield,” Augustine replied. “This is Mr. Morgan.”

“No first name?” He looked at Morgan with a challenge in his eyes.

“Morgan will do.”

Sheffield nodded again. “All right, then.” He stuck the cigar in his mouth, clamped down on it with his teeth, and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Morgan.”

“Same here,” Morgan said. He didn’t mention that the two of them had traveled in the same circles for years and had almost crossed paths on numerous occasions. Sheffield might not have believed it, anyway. He thought he was meeting some sort of frontier gunman…which, as a matter of fact, he was.

Sheffield didn’t offer him a drink, which wasn’t surprising. This wasn’t a meeting of equals. Sheffield was deciding whether or not to hire him. The man also didn’t waste any time getting down to business.

“Did Charles here tell you about the trouble I’ve been having?”

“He said that some outlaws have been giving you problems.”

Sheffield took the cigar out of his mouth, tossed back the whiskey that was still in his glass, and said, “That’s right. I run a private train between here and Titusville, in the Dragoon Mountains. It’s been stopped a couple of times by bandits. Passengers robbed, gold and silver shipments looted.”

“I thought you made most of your money out of copper,” Morgan said.

An impatient look came over Sheffield’s face. He didn’t like being interrupted.

“That’s right. The Gloriana is primarily a copper mine, but we take out significant amounts of gold and silver, too. You don’t have to have a very big shipment of those ores for its value to amount to something.”

“No, I imagine not. Go ahead.”

It was a subtle thing, that telling Sheffield to proceed as if Morgan were giving him permission. Morgan did it on purpose, once again trying to get under someone’s skin so they would be more liable to blurt out the truth. Sheffield noticed, too, and an irritated flush crept over his face.

He went on, “I’ve put extra guards on the trains, but I think it’s only a matter of time before those outlaws strike again. I want them stopped before that happens. Not only that, I also want them brought to justice for the crimes they’ve already committed.”

Morgan didn’t figure justice had a whole lot to do with it. Sheffield wanted vengeance because someone had dared to cross him. There was something else going on there, too.

“I imagine you’d like to have that stolen gold and silver back, if anything’s left of it, that is.”

“Of course,” Sheffield snapped. “It’s mine.”

And that was the crux of it, Morgan thought. Sheffield couldn’t stand anybody taking anything away from him. Morgan knew that…because there had been a time in his life when he had felt the same way, until someone took away everything that really mattered.

“What do I have to do with this?”

Sheffield gestured with the cigar toward the Colt on Morgan’s hip. “Augustine tells me that you killed two men earlier this evening in a gunfight.”

Morgan shrugged. “They drew on me. I didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Still, two against one…most men facing those odds would be dead now.”

Morgan didn’t say anything, just met Sheffield’s eyes with a level stare.

“Not only that,” Sheffield went on, “but you had some trouble with one of the men who work for me at the mine.”

“Clyde Watkins,” Morgan said. “He didn’t give me much choice, either.”

Sheffield smiled thinly. “Watkins has a reputation for violence. Since he’s been at the Gloriana, no one has ever defeated him in a brawl. Is there anything you
can’t
do, Morgan?”

“Plenty,” Morgan said flatly.

Change the past. Bring back everything he had lost.

“No need to beat around the bush,” Sheffield said. “I’ve hired guards, but what I really need is a hunter. Someone to hunt down those outlaws and deal with them.”

“Deal with them harshly?” Morgan permitted himself a faint smile.

“Deal with them however is necessary to insure that they never bother me or anyone else again. Whatever it takes.”

“And you want me to be that hunter.”

“I think it’s a job you can handle”—Sheffield paused to cock an eyebrow—“Kid.”

Morgan wasn’t really surprised that Sheffield had already looked into his background and discovered who he was. Not who he
really
was—or rather, had been—of course, but he knew that Kid Morgan had developed quite a reputation as a fighting man in a short period of time.

Augustine was a little taken aback, though. “You’re Kid Morgan?” he said.

“That’s what some people call me.”

Augustine shook his head. “That didn’t occur to me. When I heard your name, my first thought was about Frank Morgan, the famous gunman, but I knew you were too young to be him.”

“Our young friend is a different Morgan, Charles,” Sheffield said. “But no less notorious.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Morgan drawled. “Frank Morgan has had a lot more time to build his rep.”

“But he’s not here, and you are. I’m not sure he’s even still alive. I need help now, Morgan. I need someone to track down that damned colonel—”

“Colonel Gideon Black?”

“That’s right. I know you’ve heard of him. Charles told me that you came to Bisbee with the idea that you might join his gang.”

“I heard Black was looking for men who were good with a gun,” Morgan said. “That’s all. I didn’t know he was putting together a gang to hold up your trains.”

“And that makes a difference, doesn’t it? You have a reputation as a gunman and a killer, but not as a desperado.”

Morgan shrugged. “I’d just as soon be on the right side of the law if I can, so I won’t have to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for every sheriff and marshal and bounty hunter who’d like to take me in.”

“Then it doesn’t matter what brought you here. Take the job I’m offering you, Morgan. Hunt down Gideon Black and his gang and destroy them. I can provide you with men, weapons, horses, whatever you need.”

Morgan didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t just pretending to be reluctant. He honestly didn’t know whether he wanted to get involved with Edward Sheffield’s problems. If he took the job Sheffield was offering him, then the tycoon would expect to be in charge of the campaign against Colonel Black. Morgan didn’t much like the idea of taking orders from the man. In truth, he didn’t much like Sheffield, period. And he wasn’t that sympathetic about Sheffield’s problems.

He just wanted to settle the score with Black for what had happened that morning at the isolated ranch west of there.

Sheffield was starting to look impatient again. “Well, Morgan, what’s it going to be?” he demanded.

Before Morgan could say anything, the door at the far end of the car opened, and a new voice said, “If Mr. Morgan needs some convincing to accept your offer, Edward, maybe I could help.”

Morgan turned his head to look toward the newcomer. The sight that met his eyes wasn’t what he expected at all.

If it wasn’t for the fact that the young woman had called the tycoon “Edward”, Morgan might have thought that she was Sheffield’s daughter. She didn’t appear to be more than twenty-five years old. A bottle-green dress was buttoned up to her neck, but the decorous cut of the gown couldn’t conceal the way it hugged a tall, sleek, well-curved body. Thick red hair was pulled back into an elaborate arrangement of curls behind her head. Green eyes met Morgan’s gaze with an undisguised boldness.

Of course, calling Sheffield by his first name didn’t have to mean anything, Morgan reminded himself. He called his father Frank, after all.

But as the young woman came forward, Sheffield grunted and said, “Mr. Morgan, my wife.”

Morgan nodded to her. “Mrs. Sheffield.”

He knew good and well this beautiful young woman wasn’t the semi-invalid Sheffield had been married to a few years earlier.

She stepped up to him and extended her hand. “I’m Gloriana.”

He glanced at Sheffield as he took her hand and said, “Your husband’s mine is named after you.”

She smiled as she clasped his hand with a firm pressure. Her hand was cool and smooth. “Of course Edward named the mine after me,” she said, “or renamed it, I should say. It used to be called something else. But when we married last year, that was one of his presents to me. By the way, you can call me Glory.”

She held on to his hand too long and Morgan carefully disengaged his fingers from her grip. He saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but the radiant smile on her face never wavered.

“We’re discussing business here, my dear,” Sheffield said with a slightly disapproving tone in his voice.

“I’m aware of that,” Glory responded coolly. “You know how interested I am in your business, darling. I may be quite decorative, but I
do
have a brain, too.”

“Of course you do, but I prefer to keep my business and personal lives separate. So if you’ll excuse us—”

“Just go right ahead with what you were talking about,” Glory said with a casual yet elegant wave of her hand. “I’ll just sit over here.”

She moved to a divan and sat down, where she continued to smile with maddening boldness at Morgan. Her husband’s jaw tightened, but he turned back to Morgan and made a visible effort to ignore the fact that his wife was still in the room.

“What about it, Morgan?” he said. “Will you take the job?”

“You’d be putting a lot of faith in somebody you just met,” Morgan pointed out.

Sheffield gave a short, humorless bark of laughter. “I didn’t get where I am by being timid, or by not trusting my instincts. I’m an excellent judge of character. I can tell that you’re the man I need to run this renegade colonel to ground. What do you say?”

It was a tempting offer. Sheffield could place a lot of resources at his disposal.

The problem was that Sheffield wanted what amounted to a military campaign carried out against Colonel Black and his men, and Morgan wasn’t a general. He had never even been in the army, and while he had felt comfortable enough issuing orders in a business setting, this was different. This was life and death. He didn’t want that responsibility.

Still, Sheffield might prove useful in locating the colonel. Morgan didn’t want to turn him down flat.

So instead of answering Sheffield’s question, Morgan asked one of his own. “When are you going up to Titusville?”

Sheffield frowned in confusion. “Actually, I’m scheduled to visit the mine tomorrow. My cars will be hooked onto a train that’s leaving at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Let me come with you,” Morgan said.

“Then you’re accepting my offer?”

Morgan shook his head. “Not just yet. I want to get the lay of the land first.”

A look of irritation came over Sheffield’s face. “See here,” he snapped. “I’m not accustomed to people stonewalling me like this. Give me a simple yes or no answer, blast it.”

From the divan, Glory Sheffield said, “I don’t think Mr. Morgan is stonewalling, Edward. He’s just being cautious. Why don’t we take him up to Titusville with us tomorrow, as he suggested? That way he can get the lay of the land, as he put it.”

As Morgan saw the lascivious light shining in Glory’s eyes and heard the sultry tone of her voice, he wished he hadn’t phrased it like that.

Sheffield either wasn’t aware of those things or chose to ignore them. He said grudgingly, “I suppose we could finish our discussion in Titusville after you’ve had a chance to look around. But don’t postpone your decision too long, Morgan. I’m not the most patient man in the world.”

Glory got to her feet, uncoiling from the divan like a cat. “Now that you gentlemen have concluded your business for the time being, I think we should all have a drink.”

Sheffield looked like he didn’t care for that idea—he didn’t drink with the hired help, after all—but evidently he didn’t want to be ungracious. He shrugged and said, “All right. Morgan? Augustine?”

The saloon owner nodded. “That sounds mighty fine to me, Mr. Sheffield.”

“Thanks,” Morgan added.

Sheffield gestured curtly to the German maid, who had come into the room unobtrusively behind Glory. She poured the drinks and handed them around. Glory lifted her glass, smiled at Morgan, and said, “To new friends.”

Morgan returned the smile but didn’t say anything.

He wasn’t the least bit interested in Glory Sheffield, although he was mildly curious about how she had come to be married to the mining and railroad tycoon, as well as what had happened to Sheffield’s first wife. Edith, that was her name, Morgan recalled suddenly. She must have passed away, and Sheffield had wasted no time in remarrying.

Sheffield threw back his drink. The nod he then gave to Morgan was one of dismissal.

“We’re much obliged to you for your time, Mr. Sheffield,” Augustine said. “I hope things work out for you and Mr. Morgan and that you get those blasted outlaws taken care of.”

Sheffield grunted.

Glory moved closer to Morgan and rested a hand lightly on his arm. “Don’t be late in the morning, Mr. Morgan. I’d hate it if we had to leave without you.”

“I’ll be here,” Morgan promised.

She smiled. “Good. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better. It takes several hours for the train to reach Titusville, so we’ll have plenty of time to…get acquainted.”

Morgan didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. He finished his drink and then left with Augustine. Glory came out onto the platform at the rear of the car to rest her hands on the railing and watch them walk away.

Morgan let out a low whistle of amazement. “Is she always like that?”

“You mean like a whore trying to drum up business?” Augustine laughed. “If you ever quote me on that, I’ll deny it up one way and down the other. I’m just like everybody else. Nobody wants to offend Edward Sheffield, so nobody ever mentions that he married himself a real she-devil.”

“He has to notice the way she acts.”

Augustine shrugged. “I reckon he does, but he chooses to ignore it, and that’s his right. For what it’s worth, I’ve never heard any gossip about Mrs. Sheffield actually doing anything with other men except flirting. But she goes about that mighty serious-like.”

“She’s a very beautiful woman,” Morgan mused.

“No doubt about that. She could make herself some good money if she wanted to come to work in a place like mine.”

“She’s not Sheffield’s first wife, is she?” Morgan already knew the answer to that question, but he thought Augustine might be able to provide some more information and he was just curious enough to ask it.

“No, his first wife died about a year and a half ago, I reckon. He married the current Mrs. Sheffield six months after that.”

“Where did he find her? Some cathouse somewhere?”

Augustine shook his head. “That’s not the way I heard it at all. She’s the daughter of some politician. Mr. Sheffield travels in pretty high circles, you know.”

Morgan knew, all right. He had traveled in the same circles himself, although those memories seemed to belong to another man entirely.

Augustine went on, “It could be that the marriage was some sort of business arrangement. Those fellas like to take care of each other, just like the old kings and queens did in Europe. If that’s the case, then I’d say Mr. Sheffield got the better end of the deal. Mrs. Sheffield’s one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen.”

Gloriana Sheffield was beautiful, all right, thought Morgan, but she couldn’t compare to Rebel. No woman could.

They walked along in silence for a moment, then Augustine said, “You’re going to take the job Mr. Sheffield offered you, aren’t you, Morgan?”

“Does it matter to you whether I do or not?”

“Of course it does. I’m the one who suggested that Mr. Sheffield talk to you. He wants to hire you, and he’s a man who gets what he wants. If he doesn’t, he’s liable to be upset with me, too.”

“I’m not going to accept his offer just to keep you on his good side,” Morgan said bluntly.

Augustine bristled. “You’d better think about that, Morgan. I have friends in this town, too.”

Morgan didn’t like the veiled threat in the saloon owner’s voice, but he decided to let it pass. “I’ll make up my mind when we get to Titusville and I’ve had a chance to look around. I’m not sure if I want to go up against this Colonel Black. If he’s got a small army of gunmen working for him, he must be a dangerous man.”

“That’s why you need to take Mr. Sheffield’s offer. He’ll give
you
a small army, too.”

And that was the problem. Morgan didn’t want an army.

He just wanted Colonel Gideon Black in his gun-sights.