‘All right,’ Tango agreed unhappily. ‘I just need to get my traveling bag. I travel light. You go talk to Boggs. You know, Ned, you are going to make a lot of people unhappy one way or the other on this night.’

  ‘Don’t I know it?’ Ned Chambers said with a tilted grin.

  Within fifteen minutes Tango was escorting an uneasy Adam Wilson along Denver’s dark streets toward the Golden Hotel. Wilson, who had left his baggage for the railroad to deliver later, had his hands thrust deeply into his coat pockets against the chill of the night. His eyes darted this way and that, seeing imagined menace in every shadow or suddenly appearing man. Ned was right, Tango supposed; he should not have told Wilson that he was probably still in danger.

  The brightness of the vast interior of the hotel lobby revived Wilson’s spirits. The gaslight glow showed a still concerned face which had regained some of its ruddy color. Tango, who was well known to the hotel personnel, found a room for himself, one for Wilson and two more, side by side, for Ned and Marina. Tango took the best rooms they had – it didn’t trouble him: the railroad was going to pay for them.

  With Tango it was a regular thing. Every week or so, after days spent sleeping cramped on a train seat, he allowed himself the luxury of stretching out on a real bed in a decent hotel. No one from the Colorado & Eastern had ever objected to his routine.

  By the time Tango had gotten Wilson settled and tugged off his boots, Ned had arrived. The door to Tango’s gold-and-cream-colored room was open. Ned came in, glancing around at the crystal lamps and the heavy mulberry carpet. ‘I don’t know how you get away with it,’ Ned commented.

  ‘They know my worth,’ Tango said with a smile. He was ready to stretch out on a double-wide bed with a carved gilt headboard and a plum-colored coverlet.

  ‘You might as well put your boots back on and brush off,’ Ned said. ‘Messengers have been sent to the homes of the board members. They’ll be arriving within the hour.’

  ‘What about my bath?’ Tango complained, looking at his trail-stained clothes with the smears of coal dust clinging to them.

  ‘Later. Change your shirt and let’s get going.’

  ‘You’re a hard man, Ned,’ Tango grumbled, but he reached for his travel bag and made his way to the bathroom – one of the remarkable new innovations at the Golden Hotel which Tango much appreciated.

  He emerged a few minutes later wearing a deepblue shirt, still creased from being folded in his bag, grabbed his hat, without which he did not feel dressed, and nodded to Ned. They went down the half-circular staircase and crossed the thick maroon carpet to the conference room to face the sleepy-eyed board members, none of whom wore a pleasant expression.

  The board president, Emerson Cox half-rose from his chair and bellowed at the two as they entered.

  ‘Where’s my damned train, you incompetent bastards!’

  NINE

  Tango was the nearest to the red-faced, balding president of the board of directors, and he flushed and started to answer. Ned touched Tango’s elbow, knowing that Tango was ready to fire back angrily, possibly losing his job and Ned’s own in the process. Tango glanced at Ned Chambers, clamped his jaw shut and turned one of the high-backed chairs from the table to sit on.

  ‘We brought the train through,’ Ned said without embellishment. Emerson Cox goggled at him as did the other two men there – Clayton Ford with his slicked-down hair and waxed mustache and Eustace Plunkett with his strange, expressionless blue eyes peering through round, thick-lensed spectacles.

  ‘What do you mean!’ Cox continued in his bellowing tone.

  ‘Just what I said – we brought the train through.’

  ‘Want me to walk you over to the station?’ Tango said before another sharp glance from Ned caused him to fall silent again.

  ‘But how…?’ Cox half rose from behind the long mahogany table. ‘We understood it was missing – stolen. When the train did not arrive on time, we were obliged to pay a huge sum to recover it.’

  ‘Should have had a little more faith in your hired incompetent bastards,’ Tango muttered.

  ‘I wish you could have recovered the train and delivered it before we paid the ransom,’ Clayton Ford muttered.

  ‘We did the best we could under the circumstances,’ Ned said apologetically.

  ‘What were the circumstances exactly?’ Eustace Plunkett asked, leaning forward across the table, hands clasped, his bright little blue eyes probing.

  ‘There’s really not the time to go into all of that right now,’ Ned said. ‘Tomorrow I’ll begin writing a complete report on the events.’

  Plunkett, looking as if he had been snubbed, leaned back, hands flat on the table, his expressionless eyes still fixed on Ned’s face.

  Clayton Ford asked anxiously, ‘What about the vice-president’s brother? Is he all right?’

  ‘Adam Wilson is upstairs in this hotel at the moment,’ Ned Chambers said. ‘Hopefully he’s resting well.’

  ‘That was a rough welcome to Colorado for him,’ Ford continued. ‘As you know, Ned, the gold interests are trying to keep Colorado out of the Union. They feel the government merely wants control of their mines and of the wealth produced here. The railroad, on the other hand, wants to open the Territory up to commerce. It would mean much more in the way of contracts, many more family settlers arriving, small businesses. I know the way these gold strikes are – boom times and bust. Denver itself could become a ghost town if we are to continue to place reliance on the gold and silver strikes only.…”

  ‘What has all of this got to do with the stolen train, Clayton?’ Plunkett asked wearily.

  ‘It’s just that if we could prove that the big mine operators were behind it.…’

  ‘They weren’t!’ Drew Tango snapped angrily, sitting up in his chair. ‘Oh, they may have supplied a few tough men, some of their so-called ‘regulators’ to do the rough work, but the mining interests weren’t behind the scheme.’

  ‘You must be mistaken, Mr Tango,’ Emerson Cox said, his eyes growing dark with censure.

  He, it seemed, had already made up his mind who was responsible. ‘Who would you blame if not the big mine operators? A random gang of outlaws? Indians?’ This last he said sarcastically. Ned glanced at Tango, hoping his friend would not explode with his occasional fury. It could cost both of them their jobs. Instead, Tango answered in a cool, almost matter-of-fact voice.

  ‘Where’s Russell Blair? Is he or is he not a member of the board of directors? There are only the three of you here. Where is Blair?’

  ‘I assume –’ Cox began.

  ‘You men do a lot of assuming,’ interrupted Tango who sometimes did not seem to care whether he was employed or not, the way he challenged authority. ‘When I was among the bandits in their camp – never mind how I got there; Ned, I’m sure, will include all of that in his report – I was told by the robbers that Russ Blair was behind the plan to capture the train.’

  ‘That’s reckless slander!’ Plunkett said. ‘An unsubstantiated, vile allegation.’

  ‘So,’ Tango asked softly, ‘where, then, is Russ Blair? The ransom was paid and he’s gone. Forgive my wild speculation, gentlemen – I only know what I heard and what I now see.’

  There was a silence in the room. Then Emerson Cox looked to Clayton Ford. ‘Russell did receive the demand note. The money was paid to the robbers through Russell since he said he had contacts with them. I don’t like the thought, but … Plunkett, get a man out to Russell Blair’s house right now. Tell him we need to see him immediately.’

  ‘You’ll not find him there,’ Tango said, rising. ‘You might be able to run him down, since he won’t be able to use the eastbound train to make his escape now, as was likely his original intention.’

  ‘Russell did say something about going East to see his sister when this crisis was over,’ Clayton Ford said thoughtfully, now not so certain of his friend’s uninvolvement.

  ‘I’m going to sleep,’ Tango said. He turned and started toward the door. ‘Any more questions will have to wait until morning.’

  Although each of the board members thought privately that Drew Tango was an arrogant, tiresome man, no one said a word to stop him. They exchanged glances, realizing that they had run out of questions. Without words passing between them they rose, feeling the need for sleep themselves on this night.

  Ned Chambers watched them go one by one, rose heavily from his own chair and started upstairs. He, too, needed some rest, and he meant to take care of that but he wished to, needed to, talk to Marina Simpson if only for a few minutes before he slept. That completed, he would not have to worry about his dreams on this night. They would be warm, gentle and comforting.

  The sun was a low, red glowing ball in the east, coloring the new snow when Ned looked out of his window, stretched and went downstairs to meet Tango in the coffee room adjoining the elegant lobby of the Golden Hotel. He found Tango hovering over a cup of coffee, several breakfast plates stacked and pushed to one side of the table.

  ‘Sleep well?’ Tango asked as Ned seated himself and raised a finger in the direction of a harried-looking waitress.

  ‘Hardly.’ Ned reached into the inside pocket of his coat and removed a stack of folded yellow papers.

  ‘That the report?’

  ‘It is. Do you know how hard it was to reduce all that we went through to a few thousand words?’

  ‘No, and I don’t want to know. That’s why they pay you the big money,’ Tango said with a grin, knowing that Ned Chambers made only twenty dollars a month more than he himself did.

  ‘Yes,’ Ned said sourly as the waitress poured him a cup of coffee. ‘There’s another meeting of the board this morning – you’ll come, won’t you?’

  ‘What do they need me for?’ Tango asked reasonably. ‘Anything I could tell them you’ve already written down.’

  ‘All right, then,’ Ned said with some disgust. He changed the subject. ‘I’ve seen Frank Polk – he’s doing much better – and he’s agreed to tell them what he knows.’

  ‘Good for him,’ Tango said, stretching his arms over his head.

  ‘You’re acting like this is over, Tango.’

  ‘It is as far as I’m concerned. I’m only a line-rider. You on the other hand are a railroad detective. I don’t investigate; I only ride the rails.’

  ‘Don’t you have a personal interest in all of this?’

  ‘Not that personal,’ Tango said, reaching for his hat which rested on the chair beside him. ‘What do you want me to do? Try to ride down Russell Blair – assuming we could know which way he’s gone?’

  ‘We could try,’ Ned said insistently.

  ‘Nope,’ Tango replied, rising. ‘I only use two forms of transportation – the railroad and my feet. I don’t cotton to horses.’

  ‘I remember a few years ago that you actually quit the job to ride after some outlaws.’

  ‘That,’ Tango said, ‘was personal. This isn’t.’

  ‘You’re a hard man, Drew Tango,’ Ned said.

  ‘Am I not? Go on and turn in your report. Me, I’m taking a bath and maybe a daytime nap. The eastbound train doesn’t pull out until early evening.’

  ‘All right,’ Ned grumbled, ‘if that’s the way it is.’

  ‘That’s the way it is, Ned. You go try to find Russ Blair if that’s what you want to do. Me, I’m riding the rails East.’

  Tango had it in mind to clean his guns, visit the closest saloon, buy some new clothes and, as he had told Ned, try taking another nap before the long ride on the eastbound train which had already been long delayed due to the trouble down the line. Heading up the curved staircase to the upper floor of the Golden he met Marina coming down, a hatbox in her hands. ‘Good morning, Princess,’ Tango said lightly.

  ‘Have you seen Ned, Tango?’

  ‘Yes. He was just going to eat breakfast. Then he has that meeting with the railroad board.’

  ‘I know. He was up working on that report until all hours. I could see the light under the connecting door. He so wants to do things right.’

  ‘That’s Ned,’ Tango commented.

  ‘You – you’re not like him at all, are you?’

  ‘No. I suppose we’re different pups whelped out of the same bitch.’

  ‘Ah,’ Marina said with a shaky smile, ‘the reason I’m glad I am an American – in Nottingham someone would slap you for speaking that way.’ Tango only looked puzzled. ‘I need your help, Tango, if you have a little while.’

  ‘I suppose I have a little time. What is it you need?’

  ‘I have to go over to Berkshire’s, if you know what that is.’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Well, it’s a jewelry store. I mean to sell some of my gewgaws. I can’t see the time coming when I will wish to wear a diamond tiara out here.’

  ‘If it’s cash money you need …’ Tango said, beginning an offer.

  ‘No, Tango.’ She touched his wrist. ‘I thank you, but I believe – hope – I can raise a quarter of a million dollars on what I’m carrying with me.’ She hoisted the hatbox. ‘I’d just like you to accompany me for protection, if you would. I’d ask Ned, of course, but he’s so busy right now.’

  How much Marina actually raised Tango did not know, and did not ask, but after going through a session with the man in charge of appraisals at Berkshire’s Jewelry Store and a visit to the bank to open an account, it was obvious that her spirits were lighter.

  ‘How are the steaks at the restaurant?’ she asked Tango on the way back to the hotel.

  ‘Haven’t tried one yet.’

  ‘Let’s do it now, shall we? I’m buying,’ Marina said.

  ‘I had a big breakfast, but my stomach wouldn’t mind.’

  They each had a steak and baked potato, corn on the cob and apple pie for lunch, speaking only of trivialities. When they were finished, napkins folded, Tango said: ‘If you won’t be needing me anymore.…’

  ‘No, thank you, Tango. I am just going to find a real estate office and do some preliminary searches.’

  ‘You mean to stay around Denver then?’

  ‘Yes, we … I thought it might be best to rent a house over the winter, and then when spring arrives, to look for a place outside of town.’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea. By then you’ll know if you want to stay in the city or go upcountry.’ With a dog, a little kitten and a baby cradle, Tango thought – angry for some reason. He studied the dark, well-groomed Lady Simpson, saw deep happiness in her eyes, and half-cursed Ned Chambers for his amazing luck. ‘I’ve got to be going now,’ he said, rising abruptly.

  So Ned and Marina were going to be settling down – and Tango would keep on riding the rails. Probably forever. So what! It was a good life.

  He scuffed his way across the lobby and out the front door, to watch the high riding sun glint off the snow-clad purple mountain peaks. Then Tango started for the dry-goods store across the street. He needed some new duds, and he decided right then that he would also purchase the finest Stetson in the store. He owed himself that much. And he had pocket money; the way he lived, he spent nothing for food, nor for accommodations. His pay wasn’t that bad, either. His spirits lifted as he crossed the slush-covered street. It was a good life – let Ned and Marina try it their way. Tango knew deep inside that he would get antsy locked down in a house, seeing the same town every day. He needed to ride the rails. Why, he could not have said, but he always felt as if he were gaining ground, going somewhere even if the next day brought him back to where he had started from.

  He had just reached the plank walk opposite when Ned Chambers, breathless, hatless, caught up with him.

  ‘Tango – Russell Blair is going to ride the east-bound train today!’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Charlie Boggs sold him a ticket. He thought it was important, so he came over to the railroad office to report it. The board of directors had posted a reward for any information. Blair must be hanging around the depot waiting for the 5.05. The way his mind works, that would be the only means of escape he could think of.’

  ‘Talk to the yard police,’ Tango advised. ‘That’s their job.’

  ‘Tango, help me finish this up,’ Ned pleaded. ‘The yard cops are mostly pensioners; hardly a one of them has a tooth left in his head. They are good at running off hobos and chasing stray dogs away, but Blair has all that money, and a purpose. Charlie Boggs said that there were two rough men with Blair. Probably mine regulators, hired guns, judging by Blair’s past preference for those types.

  ‘What do you want?’ Tango said after an extended silence.

  ‘I want you to help me root him out,’ Ned said. ‘Who else would I want beside me in a gunfight?’

  ‘I was just going to buy a new hat,’ Tango said inconsequentially. ‘But – come on, Ned, let’s go see if we can get ourselves killed!’

  The railroad yard was relatively deserted on this chill afternoon. Luggage was being loaded, and freight for the east. The railroad crew stood in bunches, talking. Others filled the boiler of the locomotive, loaded wood on to the tender and performed a hundred other routine tasks in preparation for departure.

  It was too early for the passengers to begin appearing. On the bench behind the station, two elderly men whittled and exchanged old, old jokes. A dog with one folded ear watched them with apparent amusement, his pink tongue lolling.

  They spotted Charlie Boggs, the cadaverous station-master and went his way.

  ‘Any sign of Blair yet?’ Ned Chambers asked.

  ‘No, but I’m keeping a sharp eye out for him.’

  ‘He didn’t board the train early?’ Tango inquired.

  ‘No, sir,’ Boggs replied, apparently miffed by the question. ‘I had my eye on it all the time. Besides,’ he added, ‘the clean-up crew is still on board sweeping out the aisles, touching up the scuffs on the seats and all. He’s not on board.’

  ‘Well,’ Tango said, his eyes searching the network of rails. ‘I guess we’d better get busy and find him. He sure wouldn’t risk wandering around town. He has to be near by.’

 

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