Robert Parker - Ironhorse

Berkeley and I leaned in for a closer look.

“JBW,” Virgil said. “Not that it does us any good knowing who he is, but at least we got us a handle on the mysterious Yankee. John Bishop Wellington.”

I continued reading the remainder of the article to myself but stopped and looked up at Virgil.

“There’s more here, Virgil. This part provides us some good.”

Virgil looked at me; I continued.

Wellington’s crime gained the state’s attention when three prominent Texas attorneys — Stephen Humphrey, William Mills, and James Lassiter — were also indicted after the ill-fated embezzlement scheme went awry. Charges were eventually dropped on the three due to the lack of state’s evidence. Many believe Wellington was the scapegoat for the others, who were heavy with counsel.

I looked at Virgil, Virgil looked at Berkeley, and Berkeley looked at me.

“Attorney James Lassiter,” I said. “Huh, wonder if that is the same Lassiter who’s dreaming about aforementioneds and abrogate absentions in the Hotel Ark about right now?”

After the hard rain, a low mist was rolling in across the dark streets of Half Moon Junction. The air was dense and damp. We left the horses hitched in front of the jailhouse and walked the short distance up the street toward the Hotel Ark. For some reason it wasn’t until we were on the move that I realized how big Berkeley was. He was almost a foot taller than me, and moving at a quick pace like we were, his long strides were hard to keep up with.

“So this escaped convict, John Bishop Wellington,” Berkeley said. “You think this is his plan?”

“Don’t know,” Virgil said.

“What about Mr. Hobbs?” Berkeley said. “Do you believe there is a cooperation between the men, that they were in on this together, Hobbs, Lassiter, and this Wellington?”

“Don’t know for sure, either,” Virgil said. “Figure we’ll find out soon enough.”

“I have to say, Marshal, I was not remotely leery of Lassiter and Hobbs,” Berkeley said. “Frankly never crossed my mind they could be behind something like this, never. I considered them to be caring and intelligent.”

“Money makes smart men do stupid things,” Virgil said.

“Especially a half-million dollars,” I said.

“Especially,” Virgil said.

“I believed them, based on their relationship with the governor and their prominence, their credentials.”

“Bigger the credentials, bigger the prospect you’ll find a rat or possum at the bottom of the barrel,” Virgil said.

“What about the governor?” I said. “You think he had a dog in this hunt?”

“Be a fool if he did,” Berkeley said.

“Well, he is a Texan,” I said.

“That he is,” Berkeley said.

“And a politician,” I said.

“Questionable combination,” Virgil said, “but having his family and the Pinkerton agents along, I’d say he was set up.”

“I can tell you, he was in bad shape when we got him and his wife into the hotel room. White as paper. He just collapsed in a corner chair, closed his eyes as if it were a bad dream.”

“How do you want to go about this?” I said. “Rousing Lassiter up?”

Virgil stopped at the bottom of the steps before entering Hotel Ark and looked at Berkeley.

“Which room is Lassiter’s?” Virgil said.

“Second floor, top of the stairs on the right, first door on the east.”

“And Hobbs?”

“His room is just to the other side of the stairwell, west side. Stairs split the two rooms.”

“What about the governor?” I asked.

Berkeley pointed up.

“Got one room on the third floor. Governor and his wife are there,” Berkeley said.

Virgil looked at me.

“You go through Hobbs’ door. I’ll go through Lassiter’s at the same time. No polite knocking or knob turning; needs to be a surprise.”

“I’ll be right there with you,” Berkeley said, “in case you need backup.”

We started to move.

“One thing,” Berkeley said as he pulled a gold-plated watch from his vest pocket and flipped open the lid. “It’s late.” He looked at his watch. “Or I should say early.”

“They should be sound asleep,” I said.

“They should,” Berkeley said as he slipped the watch back into his pocket, “but I want you to know, they both got trim... So if you would, please be mindful of the merchandise.”

Virgil nodded slightly with his eye on me, and we entered the hotel.

We walked into the hotel, moving quietly past the pair of black bears that guarded the entrance, and into the main room. A single lamp was burning on a belayed wagon-wheel chandelier hanging low in the middle of the room. Big Burns stepped out of his small room behind the desk, yawning.

“Need something, Mr. Berkeley?”

Berkeley put his finger to his lips for Burns to be quiet.

Burns looked back and forth between the three of us. Berkeley got close to him.

“Seen anybody come or go?”

Burns shook his head.

“No, sir.”

“Stay put,” Berkeley said. “Make no noise.”

Burns nodded, looking at the three of us.

Berkeley retrieved a small cut-glass finger lantern from a low cupboard behind the desk and lit the wick. Once he got the flame going good, we followed him past the bobcats and walked very quietly up the steps to the second floor.

When we got to the second floor, Berkeley pointed to each of the rooms, identifying first Lassiter’s room and then Hobbs’ room. Then he stepped back, placing his back to the wall at the top of the staircase. I positioned myself with my Colt in front of Hobbs’ door. Virgil leaned the Henry rifle on the wall behind him, drew his bone handle, and got in front of Lassiter’s door. Berkeley pulled out a .38 Smith & Wesson Lemon Squeezer from his belt and nodded that he was ready.

I kept my eye on Virgil.

Virgil looked at me and dropped a sharp nod of his chin.

I moved fast, my shoulder hit Hobbs’ door hard, and in an instant I was in the room. Hobbs was flat on his back, lying naked in the center of the bed. The pretty whore we’d met earlier in the evening was riding him. She had a steady diagonal lope working that was causing Hobbs some toe curling, but she stopped and looked at me as if I was there to borrow some flour or sugar. Hobbs raised his head up like a turtle on its back. What hair he had on his head was pointing in every direction, and his face was beet red.

“Wh-what... What’s the meaning of this?” Hobbs said.

The whore stayed atop of Hobbs, looking at me. A skilled equestrian awaiting instruction.

“Off,” I said.

She responded quickly. She pulled back and slung one leg over him. Hobbs grabbed the crumpled bedding and covered his privates. The whore stayed on her knees, looking at me.

I picked up a crocheted blanket at the foot of the bed and tossed it to her.

“Who do you think you are?” Hobbs said.

“You know who I am, Mr. Hobbs.”

“Damn right I do, and you have no business coming here.”

“Stop talking,” I said. “I’m gonna let you get your trousers on. You’ll have plenty of time for talking, rest assured.”

Hobbs groveled, “Now, see here.”

I raised my Colt a little more toward the center of his eyes, and he stopped talking and shook his head.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Hobbs said. “Rose, get me my unders and trousers.”

Without wrapping herself in the blanket, Rose walked to the corner chair like she had a book on top of her head and retrieved Hobbs’ underwear and trousers. She walked back to the bed and handed Hobbs his clothing.

“Everett,” I heard Virgil call out from the hall, “you got Hobbs?”