Ralph Compton - Bluff City

“In your case I would like nothing better,” Barker replied. “But circumstances being what they are, I am afraid that’s not possible.”

“What circumstances? Are you referring to Clay and me? I told you we’re good friends.”

“The circumstance I refer to has nothing to do with you carrying on with him and everything to do with that nose of yours.”

The door at the far end opened and in came a square block of a man dressed all in brown, including a low-crowned brown hat and brown leather boots. His neck was exceptionally thick, his chest extraordinarily deep, yet his waist was slim. He carried himself with catlike grace. Flat eyes as dark as pitch regarded Clay and Melanie with fleeting interest. “Are these them?” He had an accent that was difficult to place, with a trace of both a French and a Spanish influence.

“They are,” Barker said. “Mr. Train, permit me to introduce Clay Adams and Melanie Stanley of the Bluff City Courier.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Melanie said. “Mr. Barker mentioned earlier that you are in a unique line of work. What might it be?”

Clay was taking note of Train’s sun-bronzed skin, of the Whitney revolver on Train’s right hip and the bowie on his left.

“I hunt men.”

Clay snapped his head up. “You’re a bounty hunter?”

“No.”

“But you just said—”

Harve Barker bent forward. “Permit me to explain. Mr. Train hails from New Orleans. He was raised in the bayou country but has been all over plying his craft. He hunts men, yes, but not for the rewards on their heads. Once he has found his quarry his job is done. He does not take them into custody.”

“He does this out of the goodness of his heart?”

“There is a fee involved,” Barker said. “A substantial fee.”

“Then you do not kill those you hunt?” Melanie asked Train.

Barker answered her. “He is a manhunter. Not a man killer. The best there is, some say. Which is why I sent for him. Why I have paid a considerable sum to retain his services.”

“You hired him to hunt someone for you,” Melanie said. “Who in the world can it be?”

“It is not just one person. I want him to find the Stark gang.”

Clay and Melanie looked at one another in mutual consternation. It was Clay who found his voice first.

“Why this sudden interest in Jesse Stark? Do you aim to collect the bounty on him and his men?”

“Oh, please,” Barker said. “I earn more in a day than the entire bounty being offered. I wouldn’t hire a man of Mr. Train’s caliber for such a pittance.” He paused. “And my interest isn’t sudden, by any means. Or have you forgotten that the Stark gang raided Calamity, a mining camp, and stole several thousand dollars from one of my saloons?”

“That was months ago,” Clay said. “Why wait so long to go after him?”

“Because I believe in doing things right, Mr. Adams. I asked around to find out who is the best in the manhunting business. That took time. I sent a letter to Mr. Train and waited to hear back. That took time. Now he is here and everything is in place, and two days from now he heads up into the mountains after Jesse Stark. It is rumored that Stark has a hidey-hole somewhere. When Mr. Train finds it, he will bring word to me, and I will personally pay Jesse Stark a visit. Along with twenty or so hired guns.” Barker smiled. “When I take revenge on someone, I like to see their face.”

“In other words,” Melanie said, “you are taking the law into your own hands.”

Barker shrugged. “Call it what you will.”

“Why have you told us all this?” Melanie wanted to know.

“I should think it would be obvious,” Barker replied. “Word has reached me that you and Mr. Adams have been discreetly asking around, trying to find Stark yourselves. Oh, don’t look so surprised. Little goes on in this town that I don’t find out about. I am offering you a golden opportunity, the chance to do what you could never accomplish on your own.”

Melanie glanced at the inscrutable manhunter. “You can’t be saying what I think you are saying.”

“But I can, my dear. When Mr. Train rides out in two days, you and Mr. Adams are welcome to go along.”

Chapter 19

Clay tried to talk Melanie out of it. He used every argument he could think of. He stressed the danger. He pointed out that trusting Harve Barker was foolhardy, and trusting Mr. Train even more so. When that failed to persuade her he threatened to go to her uncle.

Melanie laughed him off. She told him that if he went to Jerome, so would she, to tell her uncle that the clerk he had hired was none other than the notorious Neville Baine. “Do you really want that?”

No, Clay did not. The only edge he had in his campaign to put an end to Jesse Stark’s owlhoot spree was the fact Stark had no idea who he was. If Stark found out, he might light a shuck for other climes. Or come gunning for Clay with his entire gang to back his play. “We will do it your way. But it’s a mistake you might regret.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” was Melanie’s outlook.

She had to go to her uncle anyway. She explained about Barker, and Mr. Train, and painted a rosy verbal portrait of the exclusive reports she would write of the manhunt and its aftermath. “Think of it, Uncle Jerome. We will sell more papers than ever.”

Clay was by her side when she made her plea. She insisted he be with her. “For moral support,” was how she phrased it. Several times she looked at him as if expecting him to come to her defense when Jerome balked, but Clay refused to say a word. It did no good. She convinced her uncle without his help, and daybreak of the second day after their supper at the mansion found them in front of the Emporium to meet the manhunter.

Harve Barker was there, as well, to see them off. At that hour the street was nearly deserted. The clomp of hooves as Mr. Train came around the corner leading a pack horse was unnaturally loud.

“You have enough supplies to last a month,” Barker said. “Longer if you live off the land as much as possible.”

“It is not too late to change your mind,” Clay said to Melanie.

“And pass up the chance of a lifetime?”

Barker moved closer to his hired hunter. “You know what to do. Do it well and you will receive the other half of the money.”

“I get the other half no matter what happens,” Mr. Train said. “You agreed to that.”

“Yes, I did.” Barker moved over to Melanie. “I trust this redeems me somewhat in your eyes?”

“It has raised my opinion of you a few notches,” Melanie said. “You will be doing the entire territory a favor by eliminating Stark.”

“Be sure to mention that in your newspaper.” Barker came over to the claybank. “I bet right about now you wish you had never met me.”

“This is your brainstorm. If anything happens to Miss Stanley it will be on your shoulders.”

“Meaning you will blame me should she come to any harm?” Barker grinned. “Is that supposed to worry me?”

“No more than you worry me,” Clay countered.

“For a clerk you are awful uppity.”

“For a millionaire so are you.”

Harve Barker laughed. “Unlike you, I have cause. I am richer than you will ever be. I am more powerful than you can imagine. I have the ear of the governor. If I want something done, all I have to do is snap my fingers and it gets done.”

“That’s the big difference between us,” Clay said. “You hire others to do your work for you. Me, I ride my own broncs.”

“That I would like to see,” Barker scoffed. “I doubt you have ever been on one your whole life.”

“I might surprise you,” Clay said.

Mr. Train lifted his reins. “Are we going to sit here all morning or do what I am being paid to do?”