Trouble at the Redstone (Leisure Western) Read online

  TROUBLE AT

  THE REDSTONE

  John D.

  Nesbitt

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright © 2008 John D. Nesbitt

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by AmazonEncore

  P.O. Box 400818

  Las Vegas, NV 89140

  ISBN-13: 9781477808214

  ISBN-10: 1477808213

  For Dave Manning

  ITCHING FOR A FIGHT

  “How about it?” said the surly man in chaps.

  “Mr. Aden, I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at,” Will said.

  “Just Aden to you. Don’t mister me.”

  “Good enough.”

  Aden was standing up straight now. “Well, how about it?”

  “How about what?”

  “Are you a good hand with a mop stick?”

  Will frowned and looked away, then turned and said, “I wonder if there’s somethin’ eatin’ on you.”

  Aden took a drink of his whiskey and set the glass down on the bar with a thump. “I don’t like drifters.”

  “Well, you don’t have to, even if I was one.”

  “Even if you were one.” Aden sneered. “You’ve got it written all over you. I know your type.”

  Will’s blood was rising, “You know a lot.”

  “Enough to get by. And enough to take care of myself.”

  Here it comes, Will thought. Look out…

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Itching for a Fight

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  This title was previously published by Dorchester Publishing; this version has been reproduced from the Dorchester book archive files.

  Chapter One

  Will Dryden stood up from his cot as the jailer came toward his cell, jingling his large ring of keys. At Dryden’s cell he stopped, shook a key loose from the bunch, and clacked it into the lock. Then he pushed the door open and stepped aside.

  “Time to go.”

  “Go where?” Will thought he had seen the last of the judge and it was just a matter of sitting out his ten days.

  “Just go.” The slender man motioned with his bald head toward the front of the jail and let the prisoner go first.

  Will passed through the heavy door and stopped in the office, where he saw his hat, his pocketknife, a few coins, his spurs, and his gun and holster on the sheriff’s desk. The sheriff himself was nowhere to be seen.

  The jailer went behind the desk, put the key ring in the top drawer, and then with a smaller key locked the desk. “You can go now.”

  “What gives? I’ve got six days left to do.”

  The jailer shook his head and handed Will a folded slip of paper.

  Will opened it and saw, in a neat cursive hand, a short message.

  Ask for Mrs. Irma Welles at the Northwestern Hotel.

  He raised his eyes and found the jailer watching him. “Did this person pay my bail?”

  “Paid off the rest of your fine.”

  “Right.” Will put the note in his vest pocket with his cigarette makin’s, then reached for his hat and put it on. He scooped up the change—thirty-seven cents—and dropped it into his trouser pocket, followed by his pocketknife. As he reached for his spurs and six-gun, he asked, “Where’s my belt?”

  “Didn’t have one.”

  “Of course I had a belt, else I wouldn’t have been able to wear this.”

  “I don’t know.” The jailer turned away, opened a cabinet door, and peered inside. “Maybe it’s this,” he said, drawing out a belt and holding it at arm’s length like a dangling snake.

  “That’s it.” Will put on the belt and holster, picked up his spurs, and paused. “Thanks,” he said.

  “All the same.”

  He walked out into the bright day and found a bench to sit on, two doors down. There he buckled on his spurs and sat back to roll and smoke a cigarette. As he looked up and down the street, he saw the sign for the Northwestern Hotel about a block away. This was a strange deal, he thought. Someone getting him out of the pokey, and now just sitting here, he could get up and walk away if he wanted. But that didn’t seem right. He looked at the note again. Whoever this Mrs. Welles was, he figured he owed it to her to at least thank her and find out what she wanted. But the last part was what kept him from being in a hurry. A woman didn’t pay off an unknown man’s jail time out of charity.

  As Will stood at the desk and waited for the hotel clerk to go for Mrs. Welles, he had a pretty good sense of what he looked like—a man who had been in the same clothes day and night for a week and who needed a bath and a shave. But at least he was sober and well rested.

  After a few minutes the clerk came down the stairway, followed by a woman of everyday appearance. She wore a long, pale blue dress with a lightweight jacket of darker blue. Her light hair, somewhere between brown and blonde, was tied up and around in back. She would not have turned his head on the street, but she was not unpleasant to look at.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs and came forward, he turned, hat in hand, and waited for her. Now he saw her bluish gray eyes and a few hard lines in her face. He also caught a glance of her rising bosom beneath the dark blue jacket, but he made himself look again at her facial features. He figured her to be about his age or a little more, maybe in her early thirties.

  “I’m Mrs. Welles,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “Will Dryden.” He took her hand and released it, noticing that it was not a hand rough from work but not a soft lady’s hand either.

  “Shall we sit down?” She motioned to a pair of wooden armchairs on the far side of the lobby, up against a wall that had no windows but a silent, staring mule deer head with a broad spread of antlers.

  He followed her and took a seat after she did, setting his chair so that it faced hers at an angle.

  “Thank you for coming,” she began.

  “Thank you,” he answered, “for getting me out of that place. A few days was more than enough.”

  She gave a light laugh. “Well, I’m glad to be able to do something that makes another person’s life more bearable.” She paused, then added, “But I admit it was not a pure act of philanthropy.”

  “I wouldn’t expect it.”

  Her hands moved in her lap, and he saw that she was holding a small purse. He raised his glance to meet hers.

  She took a breath and began in a deliberate tone, as if she had thought out her words ahead of time. “The case is, Mr. Dryden, that I have a little bit of work that I need done.”

  He met her steady eyes. “People often do.”

  “And I’m wondering if you might be interested.”

  “Depends on what it is. If it’s something that would get me in trouble, I’d just as soon be back over there, eatin’ boiled cabbage and workin’ of
f my fine myself.”

  “Oh, of course. And don’t get me wrong. I don’t expect you to take this job just because I paid your fine. I did that much so we could have this conversation. Any future work would have its own compensation.”

  He forced himself to keep his eyes matched with hers, yet at the lower edge of his vision he could see her hands and the purse. “It’s good of you to state things outright like that.”

  “I think it’s good to have things clear and straight from the beginning.” She smiled without showing her teeth.

  “So do I.” He waited for her to speak, and when she didn’t, he said, “Go ahead. I’m willing to hear what you’ve got in mind.”

  The woman drew a breath as before, and her chest rose a little. “Mr. Dryden, my husband has gone missing, and I need someone to try to find him.”

  Will let his gaze rove across her face, which showed no expression. “Do you think he’s here in Enfield, or somewhere near?”

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. The best information I have is that he was last seen in Thorne. Do you know that town?”

  “I know of it. It’s about a day’s ride west of here.”

  “That’s right.” She gave a small nod.

  Will reflected for a moment. “Did you have someone else looking for him before?”

  “No. I found out that much myself. But I didn’t think it seemed proper for a woman to go any further looking for her husband.”

  “Depends on where he went, I suppose.”

  Her face softened. “Mr. Dryden, I realize it appears as if I’m just a woman whose husband has run out on her, and that may turn out to be the case.” Her hand went up to brush away the hair at her temple, and then it returned to its proper pose on her lap. “But I think something might have happened to him. If it did, I would want to know.”

  “Of course.” Will had the impression that if she came to know the worst, it would not devastate her. “Tell me, Mrs. Welles, what your husband’s first name is.”

  She looked down at her lap and then at Will. “Actually, the name isn’t Welles. It’s just a name I’ve been using for purposes of discretion.”

  “I see.”

  “His name is Alfred Vetch. He goes by Al.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “And, just to put all my cards on the table, I can tell you that my name is Elinore, not Irma. But I’ll keep the name of Irma Welles for as long as I’m on this venture, so if you agree to do this piece of work for me, that would be the name I would travel under and would use for correspondence, just as I have done.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “And agreeable?” She gave him what he took to be an appraising look.

  “No reason I should object. Or do you mean the job as well?”

  “Mr. Dryden, I need someone to carry out this task.”

  Will paused for a few seconds, then said, “Just to find Al Vetch, not to bring him back with his hands tied to a saddle horn?”

  She smiled and showed her teeth, which were clean and even. “Just to find him. Once I know where he is, and under what circumstances, I can decide what I should do.”

  Silence hung in the air, and he knew she was waiting for an answer. “I suppose so. But to give me an idea of what I might be getting into—”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Has Mr. Vetch had the tendency to get mixed up in any shady dealings?”

  “Such as?”

  “Little things in the dark, usually for easy money.”

  “Oh, no. He wouldn’t ever do anything like that.”

  Will thought her answer came too quick, but it told him as much as he was likely to learn at the moment.

  “Well, even if he did, all I have to do is find him. I was just wondering whether to look in broad daylight or in darker places.”

  She gave her open smile again. “I think you’re worldly-wise enough to know not to overlook any possibilities.”

  “But I probably won’t find him minding a town herd of milk cows, or tending the coal chute at a train station.”

  She had a droll expression as she shook her head. “Probably not.”

  Will reflected again. “You said a few minutes ago that you thought something might have happened to him.”

  Her answer was quick and short. “It was just a feeling.”

  “I understand.” Another question took form. “Did, or does, he have a life insurance policy?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Just a thought.”

  She sat up straight, shifting in her seat, and then smiled at him. “So tell me, Mr. Dryden, how you ended up in that disagreeable place.” She motioned with her head in the general direction of the jail.

  “Well, as I imagine you know, it was for disturbing the peace.”

  “Of course I know that. But what did you do to get there?”

  He tipped his head to one side. “I don’t remember very well, but from the bumps and bruises I ended up with, I believe I must have disturbed some individual’s peace.”

  She gave a light laugh. “Go on.”

  He figured she already knew the general details and on the basis of that she decided he might be a good man for the job she had in mind. But he had no reason for playing coy, so he went on as she asked him to. “It was a fight, of course. I don’t remember the particulars, though I played it through my mind a thousand times while I was soakin’ in the jail. I was playing cards, and there was a fellow across the table who seemed to take a dislike to me.” A blurred image came floating up, and Will shook it away. “I don’t know why. Then at some point, someone must have slipped something into my drink, because the next thing I remember, I was lying on the floor getting kicked in the head and ribs.”

  Her face was thoughtful as she nodded.

  “I woke up in jail, and of course my money was all gone and I had nothing to pay my bail with. Same thing when I went before the judge, so he gave me ten days. I was sittin’ it out when you came along.”

  She seemed to be giving him another appraisal. “Well, all I heard was that you were a man who probably knew how to take care of himself but ran into some bad luck.”

  “I did that.” He met her eyes. “And I thank you again for getting me out.”

  Her eyes had a bit of sparkle as she said, “All for the purpose of having this conversation.”

  “Good enough. I suppose we’re in agreement.”

  She raised her hand about chest high. “There’s the matter of payment. What would you say to my giving you fifty dollars now, another fifty when you’re done, and something on top of that if it takes more than a month?”

  Will took a minute to think it through. As he understood it, the better detective agencies charged by the day, plus travel expenses. A flat fee might encourage an operative to arrive at conclusions too quickly. On the other hand, reputable agencies didn’t take on cases that entailed gathering evidence that might lead to a divorce suit, which this case looked like, at least on the surface. This woman had no doubt considered the options, might even have talked to a seedy detective or two, and had decided to try things this way. Will figured Al Vetch was either living with another woman behind drawn curtains or was lying facedown at the bottom of a mine somewhere. Even if he was off doing crooked work, like forging deeds or selling shares on a bogus company, Will should know within a month whether the man was to be found.

  “What if, after a month, I decide I can’t find this fellow?”

  “That’s fine. You get your month’s pay regardless.”

  After a few seconds he said, “All right. That sounds fair.”

  “Good.” She sat poised. “Is there anything we haven’t covered?”

  “Maybe a couple of things, Mrs. Welles—if that’s the name we’re using between us.”

  She smiled and nodded. “Oh, yes.”

  “I was wondering if you had a picture of this man.”

  Her face clouded. “No, I don’t. I wish I did, especially for
this purpose.”

  “Can you tell me what he looks like?”

  She tipped her head and made a little shrug.

  “He’s an average-looking sort of man—average height and build. He’s thirty-five years old. Brown hair, brown eyes.”

  “Beard? Mustache? Balding hair?”

  She shook her head. “None of that.”

  “How does he dress? What kind of work has he done?”

  Her eyebrows raised. “He usually works in a business—hardware, freighting.”

  “Office work, then. Not a miner or cowpuncher, for example.”

  “Oh, no. In fact, he’s done some land-office work.”

  “Do you think he’s in one of those lines of work right now?”

  “I don’t know. He always complains that he’s not making enough money.”

  “Does he go armed?”

  “When he travels, yes. Sometimes he travels for his work.”

  “Uh-huh. By the way, when you went, um, looking for him, did you ask for him by name?”

  “Yes, I did. Why?”

  “Well, I figure I’d better not do the same, right away. I might have to go about it in a roundabout way.”

  “What ever you think is best.”

  Will studied her face. She kept up a strong, expressionless front when she wanted. “I guess I have one more question,” he said.

  “Very well.”

  “Deep down, what do you think he’s doing?”

  “You want to know what I really think?”

  “Sure.”

  She raised her chin as she took a breath. “I think he’s trying to raise some money so he can go somewhere else.”

  “Yet you said he wouldn’t do anything shady.”

  She smiled. “Oh, Mr. Dryden, it was quite a bit earlier in the conversation when I said that. I think we understand each other better now.”

  “Well, you did tell me not to overlook any possibilities.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “Yes, I did.”

  The first few dollars of his operating money went fast. After asking around, he found his horse and paid the stable bill. Then he went to the barbershop, where he had a shave and a bath. Wearing his wrinkled but clean change of clothes from his duffel bag, he found a washwoman to take care of the clothes he had been living in. She told him she would have them washed, dried, and folded before sundown. As it was now about two in the afternoon, he went to a café and ordered a meal of steak and potatoes. That, and a mug of cool beer, made the world seem like not such a bad place.