Cassidy turned to him. “Our mystery man hoped he’d have a heap of silver to sell soon and he wanted to know the names of Wesley’s contacts, but Cleveland interrupted him so he killed him.”

  Both men shrugged, accepting they had a possible explanation but not a definitive one yet. Then, in a thoughtful frame of mind, they moved on. As Doc Taylor had released Roscoe that morning so that he could rest up in his hotel room, they headed to the Shaw Hotel. Garfield wasn’t at the reception desk, but they found Roscoe in his room in a chair by the window.

  “I feel better than I expected today,” Roscoe reported.

  “You should still take it easy,” Cassidy said. “I recently heard about a man getting hit on the head, seemingly being fine afterward and then dropping dead a few hours later.”

  Roscoe nodded, showing no sign that he knew about the source of this tale.

  “I agree, but I’m still eager to move on, and that means I don’t want to leave any loose ends behind, such as charges being levelled against either of the men who attacked me last night.”

  “I’m not surprised that you don’t want to make an issue of your altercation with Kelly,” Cassidy said, although he resisted the urge to suggest that this probably meant Roscoe had cheated and he considered himself lucky to get away with just a few bruises. “I am surprised about Garfield’s attack.”

  Roscoe shrugged. “What happened wasn’t as bad as it seemed at the time. We got into a fight, but Garfield didn’t intend for me to fall through the window. I just headed that way after he punched me.”

  Garfield hadn’t tried to excuse the result of his assault, but if Roscoe didn’t want the matter taken any further there was nothing Cassidy could do about it.

  “How did you happen to get into a fight?”

  “Garfield claimed I killed his friend in Redemption, but he was mistaken as we’ve never met before.”

  “Garfield reckons the killing happened when you were a member of the Verne Ogden gang.”

  Roscoe opened his mouth wide in a show of his being shocked.

  “If Garfield believes that nonsense, perhaps he banged his head last night, too,” he spluttered.

  “Last night there were two other incidents. After playing poker with you Cleveland Todd was killed outside Wesley Bow’s workshop while inside the place was ransacked.”

  “That’s the first I’ve heard about those crimes and obviously I wasn’t in a state to be involved in either of them.”

  As Roscoe didn’t appear as if he was being deceitful, Cassidy accepted his version of events with a curt nod and then headed downstairs. Garfield was now back on duty, much to his surprise, apparently.

  Cassidy informed him of Roscoe’s decision, to Garfield’s further surprise. Then he moved on to the law office where he enjoyed a coffee with Wright. The deputy agreed that they had nothing to support Garfield’s accusations about Roscoe.

  As they couldn’t detain Kelly any longer either, when Cassidy had finished his drink he picked up the ring of keys for the cells and traipsed through to the jailhouse. Kelly was sitting up on his cot.

  “Have you got anything more to say about last night’s altercation in the Golden Star?” Cassidy asked.

  “I got cheated,” Kelly said with a shrug. “I punched the cheater.”

  “Later that night the cheater got thrown out of a hotel window.”

  Kelly laughed. “I’m pleased to hear that and hopefully on the way down he came to regret annoying another person.”

  “That wasn’t the only incident last night. The other poker player, Cleveland Todd, was killed.”

  Kelly winced and then turned aside as gathered his thoughts in what appeared to be a display of genuine surprise and perhaps even annoyance.

  “I assume you’re going to ask me whether I have any reason to believe our poker game led to that incident, and I’ll say that it didn’t as until the cheating there weren’t any problems.” Kelly turned back to Cassidy. “On the other hand Cleveland was a railroad man and they’re the only folks who are more corrupt than the lawmen around these parts.”

  “Do you have any proof of his criminal activities?”

  Kelly sighed and rubbed his brow, giving the impression that Cassidy had been bombarding him with questions for a long time and he was now tired.

  “I don’t.”

  “Then thank you for answering the question I didn’t ask.” Cassidy leaned forward. “Now tell me everything you did in my town before I arrested you.”

  “You sure do have a lot of questions when I told you everything I knew before you’d even asked the first one.”

  Kelly smiled, but when Cassidy didn’t reply he sighed and then stood up and walked up to the bars, seemingly delaying speaking to give himself time to think about what information he would provide. Then he talked about his arrival in town, his visit to the saloon and the poker game.

  Cassidy let me speak without interruption in the hope that he would inadvertently reveal something that would provide him with an opening to probe him further. Unfortunately Kelly’s tale was simple and consistent, giving Cassidy nothing to work with.

  When Kelly had finished Cassidy tossed the keys from hand to hand and then unlocked the door. Kelly walked out of the cell using slow steps, giving the impression that he wasn’t surprised to be let out.

  Then Kelly tipped his hat before moving on to the jailhouse door. Cassidy followed him out and stood with Wright in the main office as Kelly took his time in leaving.

  “I hope our paths don’t cross again,” Cassidy called as Kelly opened the door.

  “They won’t,” Kelly said. “I’m heading back to Carmon.”

  When Kelly paced outside, Wright shook his head and turned to Cassidy.

  “I guess you got nothing out of him either,” he said.

  Cassidy sighed. “Nope.”

  “So it looks as if we’ll probably never work out who killed Cleveland.”

  “I haven’t given up hope yet, as there’s been one consistent theme to the recent events that we haven’t explored yet.”

  Cassidy raised his eyebrows as he gave the deputy a chance to figure it out for himself. After a few moments Wright nodded.

  “Kelly’s heading back to Carmon, and Cleveland came from there.”

  Cassidy smiled. “As did Garfield and perhaps Roscoe, so I reckon we ought to go there, too.”

  Chapter Four

  It was approaching noon and Garfield was just starting to hope that he wouldn’t be given bad news, after all, when Stanley came to speak to him.

  “Roscoe doesn’t want to take last night’s incident any further and neither does Sheriff Yates,” Stanley said and then took a deep breath and lowered his tone. “On the other hand many people know about what happened and I can’t have potential guests deciding not to stay here because they fear that they’ll be thrown out of a window.”

  “They would be wrong to be worried,” Garfield said. “I only have a problem with the man who killed my friend.”

  “I know that, but Roscoe wasn’t that man, so I have to ask what you’d do if the man you really want were to walk through the door.”

  Garfield realized that Stanley was giving him a chance to keep his job by promising to never act upon his anger again. Unfortunately he was sure that he would behave in the same manner as he had the previous night if he could prove that the man upstairs was the man he wanted or if he were to meet the real culprit. He also couldn’t lie to Stanley so he stood tall.

  “I wouldn’t hesitate to throw that man out of a window.”

  Stanley sighed. “You’ve been a good worker, so I hate to do this.”

  “Then don’t. I’ll leave now on my own volition.”

  Stanley smiled and then showed his relief that he wouldn’t be the one making the awkward decision by paying him the rest of his wages for the week and allowing him to use his room for as long as he needed. Garfield thanked him, but his desire to be honest didn’t stretch as far as admitting he would stay for only as long as Roscoe was in town.

  Then he went to his room to plot how he would track Roscoe’s movements now that he was no longer looking after the reception desk. The simplest method would be to watch the hotel from somewhere nearby, but the previous night Roscoe had stayed close to windows as if he was looking out for someone and he might still be doing that now while he rested up in his room.

  So Garfield slipped out of his room and then waited until Stanley wasn’t near the stairs before he did as he’d done the previous night and went up to Roscoe’s room. This time he just stood beside the door until he heard movement inside, confirming he was still there, and then moved to the end of the corridor beside the window that Roscoe had fallen through.

  An hour passed without incident and then Roscoe’s door swung open. The wall had an alcove that provided some cover and Garfield stepped back into it while hoping that Roscoe wouldn’t turn his way, but to his relief footfalls headed down the corridor.

  When Roscoe reached the top of the stairs Garfield followed him at a distance. Stanley wasn’t downstairs so once Roscoe had left the building Garfield hurried to the main door and then stood in the doorway as he waited to find out where his quarry would go.

  Roscoe walked at a brisk pace suggesting he had a destination in mind and he stayed in sight until he turned into an alleyway. Garfield set off and when he worked out that Roscoe had gone around the back of the workshop where he gathered that a man had been killed the previous night he punched the air in triumph.

  He reckoned that connection confirmed that Roscoe had an ulterior motive and that could mean he really was the man he wanted. He hurried up and when he reached the end of the alleyway that came out at the back of the building, his quarry was pacing around ahead.

  Roscoe was seemingly searching for something, but several minutes passed with him showing no sign that he’d found anything of interest. Then, while tapping his chin in a thoughtful manner, he walked on.

  Garfield waited until Roscoe had moved out of view, heading back toward the main drag. Then he stepped out of the alleyway only to almost walk into a tall man who was passing by.

  Garfield thrust his head down and side-stepped around him before walking back toward the hotel to give the impression he hadn’t been following Roscoe. He resisted the urge to check behind him and find out what the man was doing until he reached the back of the hotel.

  Then in a casual manner he leaned back against the wall. When he turned his head to the side he found that the man was walking away from him, although he hadn’t gone far so he had probably kept an eye on him for a while.

  When the man turned toward the main drag in the same place that Roscoe had used, Garfield couldn’t help but conclude that he wasn’t the only one interested in his quarry’s activities. He hurried after him and, when he worked out that the place where both men had moved out of sight was beside a stable, he backtracked to use a different alleyway than the one the men had used.

  On reaching the main drag he was two buildings away from the stable, where Roscoe’s follower was now riding toward the edge of town. Garfield narrowed his eyes and when he discerned the distant form of Roscoe riding away he scurried back to the hotel.

  Thankfully he didn’t come across Stanley and he was able to gather his few possessions and leave without fuss, so only fifteen minutes later he was riding out of town. The men had headed south toward Carmon so he rode to the railroad tracks and stayed beside them.

  Five miles out of town he espied the man ahead and he reckoned he could just pick out another rider some distance ahead of him. As this man was near the tracks, Garfield slowed down and carried on along the same direction.

  When he reached a high point and the terrain ahead was clear for several miles he was able to confirm that the men were still ahead. If they continued riding beside the tracks they would reach Carmon in late afternoon so he reckoned they had to be heading there.

  He moved on and they had completed most of the journey when the railroad tracks ahead cut through a stretch of higher ground known as Red Heights. With the sheer sides of the cutting being only a few yards away from the tracks and the route being straight, Garfield moved on cautiously, fearing that he would be visible to his quarry.

  As it turned out, when he reached the opening nobody was in sight ahead so he sped up and trotted along, only slowing down when he reached the end of the cutting. He was just trying to work out how far ahead he reckoned his quarry might be now when a shadow flickered on the ground ahead.

  He flinched as he tried to work out what had moved, but then a solid weight crunched into his side and tipped him out of the saddle. He landed on his back with the weight pressing down on him, his senses reeling so much it took him a few moments to work out that Roscoe’s other follower had upended him.

  He flailed his arms, trying to knock his assailant away, but the man brushed off the blows and dragged him to his feet. Then he stood up him straight before crunching a round-armed punch into his jaw that sent him reeling.

  When Garfield managed to stop moving, he turned around and raised his fists, but his assailant was already on him. The man hammered another blow to his jaw that caused him to take backward steps until he slammed into the rocky side of the cutting.

  Garfield’s feet then slipped out from under him and he went flopping down on to his butt with his back resting against rock. He got only a moment’s respite before the man loomed up over him, grabbed his collar and hoisted him back on to his feet.

  “What’s your problem with me?” Garfield asked.

  “You’re following me,” the man said, after offering his name as Troy Burns.

  “I’m Garfield Cooke and I sure wasn’t. I was—”

  Troy cuffed Garfield about the side of the head, knocking him to the side before dragging him upright again. Then he slammed him back against the rock.

  “This time give me the truth or I’ll bang your head against this rock until either it breaks or you do.”

  Garfield gulped. “You’re right that I was riding behind you, but that’s only because you’re following a man I’m interested in.”

  Troy relaxed his grip slightly. “I guess that’s sounds plausible. Give me more.”

  “He’s called Roscoe Dix and I want to find out what he’s up to.”

  “Why?”

  As it wasn’t clear why his assailant was following Roscoe, Garfield was unsure how he’d react to an honest answer, but he figured he’d never learn anything if he concocted a lie.

  “I reckon he got my friend killed in Redemption,” he said, meeting Troy’s eye. “I intend to get him to admit that before I kill him.”

  Troy’s eyes narrowed before with a snap of the wrist he released Garfield’s collar and then stepped back. He gave a brief smile.

  “Then I’d better make sure I ask him my questions first.”

  With Troy no longer being antagonistic Garfield rolled his shoulders as he gathered his thoughts.

  “Why are you following him?” Garfield waited, but Troy just walked away to face toward Carmon as he prepared to resume his journey. “But I assume you know that he’s up to no good and you’re planning on stopping him?”

  Troy snorted a laugh. “I do intend to stop him, but I fear that he’s already done enough damage, and not just to your friend.”

  Despite the beating he’d just been given Garfield breathed a sigh of relief as for the first time someone stated that they believed him.

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I work for the railroad, and I’m the man who hired him.” Troy turned back to Garfield and gave a sympathetic frown. “Roscoe’s a Pinkerton detective, except I reckon he’s gone rogue.”

  Chapter Five

  Cassidy and Wright drew their horses to a halt on the outskirts of Carmon. On the way they hadn’t come across Kelly, but before leaving Monotony they had been given confirmation that he had left town and headed this way.

  This was the first time they’d visited the town since Sheriff Murphy had been appointed and it wasn’t clear what kind of reception the new lawman would give them. So Cassidy reckoned they should talk with Ezra White first.

  They asked around and learned that Ezra was in the Green Horn saloon. Nobody admitted that they knew why he was in town.

  “It’s looking more likely that Cleveland followed his killer because he was interested in the silver shipment,” Wright said as they headed toward the Green Horn.

  “It is, but we need to be careful. Railroad men don’t like talking about shipments, even to lawmen.”

  Wright grunted that he understood and when they reached the saloon he let Cassidy take the lead. Six men had taken over a corner of the saloon where they were eyeing the other customers with surly arrogance, which had led to them being given a wide berth.

  As Cassidy had never met Ezra before, he and Wright still walked up to the bar and asked where they might find him. The bartender gestured at the men in the corner with a weary air.

  The mention of his name made one of the men turn to the bar, although he relaxed when he appeared to notice Cassidy’s star. Then he murmured something to his companions and headed over to them.

  “What do you want, Sheriff Yates?” he said.

  “It seems you know me better than I know you,” Cassidy said, his comment making Ezra smile with apparent approval. “I gather that Cleveland Todd is a member of your group.”

  “He is. He went to Monotony.”

  “What was his business there?”

  “That’s none of your. . . .” Ezra trailed off as he appeared to pick up on the implication behind Cassidy’s question. “Are you saying that something’s happened to him?”

  “Last night he was shot up outside Wesley Bow’s workshop. Wesley’s place was torn apart and then the man fled the scene. We retraced Cleveland’s path in the hope that it might shed light on what happened, but so far it hasn’t.”

  Ezra turned to his men, who showed that they’d heard Cassidy by sitting up straight in readiness of receiving orders,

 

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