Derringer, p.12
Derringer, page 12
When he opened the door to his room, his eyes went automatically to the one chair in the room and the Henry rifle propped in the corner behind it. Satisfied to see it was there, he turned toward the bed then and was stopped cold by what he saw. It looked like a cake, sitting right in the middle of his bed. “What the hell . . .” he started, and took a quick look around the room. Nothing else was different. The bed had been made and the cake was sitting on top of the blanket. He figured he must be in the wrong room but immediately thought better, for his rifle was there and his saddlebags were on the back of the chair. Maybe the dining room made me a cake, he thought. But what for? He took a closer look at the cake and realized there was some writing on it, almost too small to notice, since it appeared to have been scratched in the icing with a sharp object. He bent down close over the cake and read Happy Birthday. “Uh, oh,” he said, “somebody’s gonna be disappointed. They delivered the cake to the wrong room.” He decided he’d better tell Julian Burnett about it right away because somebody might be waiting for the cake to celebrate. “Or I could just keep the cake and eat it myself,” he japed.
He picked up the cake and took it back to the lobby and placed it on the desk before a grinning Julian Burnett. “Somebody took this to the wrong room,” he said. “It’s somebody’s birthday and they put it in my room.”
Julian’s grin turned into a look of surprise. “No,” he said, “that cake’s for you.”
“Hell if it is,” Derringer replied. “It ain’t my birthday. They took it to the wrong room.”
“No, what I’m telling you is the man who brought it here said that it was for you. Jesse Derringer, he said, and he went with me to make sure I put it in your room.”
“That don’t make a bit of sense,” Jesse said. “Who brought the cake to the hotel?”
“I didn’t know the man,” Julian answered. “Nobody I’ve ever seen before, but he looked like one of those drunks that hang around the saloons. He said he was promised ten dollars to deliver it and that’s why he had to make sure it went to your room.”
“Who promised him ten dollars?” Jesse asked. “Who sent the cake?”
“He said he didn’t know who the man was that gave him the cake.” He shrugged and declared, “I guess somebody wanted you to have some cake. You might as well enjoy it.”
“I don’t think so,” Derringer said. “Anybody who goes to that much trouble to keep it a secret must want you to eat a piece of cake pretty bad. I suspect that cake must be loaded with some kind of poison. I’m not gonna eat any and I don’t advise you to, but you’re welcome to it, if you feel lucky.”
“I declare,” Julian uttered, “as much as I like cake, I guess I’ll pass on this one.” He shook his head, truly disappointed.
“Do what you want with it,” Derringer said. He still couldn’t understand why anybody would send him a cake. It sure as hell wasn’t his birthday.
CHAPTER 11
“Are you sure that drunk you picked out took that cake to Derringer’s room?” Massey asked Lester as they lay around the campfire Tiny had built. They were all a little grumpy about having to leave Vera’s to camp out on the creek below town. This, even though they understood well enough that with what they planned that night, they couldn’t very well go running back to Vera’s at two or three in the morning. Even Ace understood that would be a bit obvious.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Lester insisted. “How many times are you gonna ask me that? Listen, I’m telling you that feller was so excited about doin’ that job for me. He was hopin’ to do any other jobs that I needed done. He liked the money I paid. Yes, sir, Mr. Jesse Derringer is in room number six on the first floor. And the quickest way to get to his room is to go in the back door to the hotel, which will take you to the long hallway. We pass by two rooms before we get to number six. I bet we don’t spend five minutes gettin’ in the hotel, doin’ the job, and out of the hotel.”
“And that drunk doesn’t know your name?”
“I didn’t say that,” Lester said, which caused an immediate frown on Massey’s face. “To be honest with you, I have to admit that we introduced ourselves. His name is Milton Rice and I told him my name.” Massey started to explode. “Just before I put a .45 slug in the back of his head,” Lester continued. The other men listening to his report broke into an uproar of laughter.
“You . . .” Massey complained. “I oughta shoot you for that.” Then he joined in the laughter with the others. “All right, the plan is simple enough. We’ll wait till he’s had plenty of time to get to sleep, about two or three o’clock in the mornin’. Ace, you can’t move too good with that leg, so you’ll take care of the horses when we go in to do the job. That’s all there is to it. Nothin’ complicated about it, just get in, do the job, and get out.”
“Doggone it, Jeb, I oughta be in on the shootin’ of that sidewinder,” Ace complained. “I owe him for that bullet he put in my leg.”
“We might have to run outta that hotel pretty fast,” Massey told him. “So it’d be better if you stayed with the horses.”
“The hardest part is gonna be what to do after the saloon closes and we got all that time to kill before two or three o’clock,” Sly said.
“That’s what Vera’s gals are for,” Lester said.
“I’ll be damned,” Massey responded. “I don’t want none of you layin’ up with none of them whores. When it’s time to go, I don’t aim to have to go around draggin’ your sleepy butts outta the bed. It ain’t a bad idea to get a little sleep if you can, but get it in a bed by yourself, so you really get a little rest. That’s the reason we moved out of that room at Vera’s and set up this camp by the creek.”
“Shoot,” Sly said, “I’ve about run outta that money we got from that bank job in Omaha, anyway. We’re gonna have to make another score pretty soon, or we’ll be like the rest of these drifters hangin’ around here.”
“We sure rode a long way to find out they ain’t even got a bank in Cheyenne,” Tiny said.
“Yeah, but that sign in the window said there was gonna be one comin’ soon,” Ace reminded him.
“That don’t do us a whole lotta good right now, does it?” Sly commented.
“Quit your bellyachin’,” Massey said. “There ain’t no bank here yet, but that don’t mean there ain’t no money bein’ made. And I’ve got a couple of places I’ve been thinking about that oughta be a pretty good payday. Let’s get this troublemaker out of the way first, then we’ll pick the place for our next withdrawal.”
“Well, I ain’t had no dinner yet,” Lester complained. “I was workin’ while the rest of you boys was stuffin’ your faces.”
Tiny, who was in the process of picking his teeth with a matchstick he had put a point on with his knife, held up a shred of beef he had extracted from between his teeth. “Here, Lester,” he said. “Maybe this’ll hold you till you can get something at Vera’s.” He flicked the shred in Lester’s direction, but it fell several feet short.
“If that had landed on me, I’da gave you the same thing I gave Milton Rice,” Lester told him.
“You’da had to wait till I turned my back on you,” Tiny responded.
“Let’s not have no fightin’, now, ladies,” Massey scolded. “Save all that foolishness for Mr. Derringer tonight. Go on and get you something to eat, Lester. I’m gonna take a little walk up to see the mayor to see how business is gettin’ along. I’ll meet you back at Dawkin’s.” They all understood his reason. The mayor owned Cheyenne Merchandise, the largest store in town and one of the possible targets for the gang to hit. Massey’s purpose in visiting would be to see the way the store was set up, where the money was kept for daily transactions, and where the office was. He would want to know if the big money was in a safe and how many people worked in the store, in case it would be best to rob it in the daytime when the safe might not be locked.
* * *
Massey was looking around in Cheyenne Merchandise when someone came in the front door and hurried through the store to the office behind. “Mr. Mayor!” the man exclaimed as he went in the office door. “Somebody found a dead man over near the creek. He’d been shot in the back of the head.”
“Who was it?” The mayor asked. “Anybody we know?”
“No, he said it looked like one of them drunks that hang around the saloons.”
“Well, what are you telling me for?” the mayor asked. “Why didn’t you tell the sheriff?”
“The fellow who found him went to tell the sheriff. I thought you’d wanna know, since we’ve been talking about the crime here in town and what we can do about it.” There were several other customers who overheard the man’s announcement and they naturally gathered at the office door to eavesdrop. Massey took advantage of it and joined them.
Seeing the little crowd of nosey customers gathered outside his office door, Mayor Hook got up from his desk and came out to disperse them. They all backed away, except one. Massey remained standing right beside the door. And when the mayor walked past him, Massey took a quick look inside the office and spotted a safe beside the desk. The safe was open. Massey moved quickly back with the spectators then to hear the mayor calmly telling them that he was sure Sheriff Warton and his deputies would investigate the murder in short order. When a couple of the customers went out to the street to see if they could see a body being hauled to the undertaker, Massey joined them. When they discovered there was nothing to see, they went back in the store, but Massey walked back up the street to the saloon.
He found everybody but Lester at what had become their usual table, so he stopped at the bar long enough to get a shot glass from Sam before joining his men. “What was the noise outside?” Sly asked.
“Some jasper yellin’ for the sheriff,” Massey replied. “They found Lester’s friend, Milton, with a hole in the back of his head. I guess he weren’t lyin’.”
“What about the general merchandise store?” Tiny asked.
“Easy pickin’s,” Massey said. “He’s doin’ a helluva business. There’s one big cash drawer at the front counter where the two fellers he’s got workin’ for him do the business. And the office is in the back. He’s got a safe, but it was open. Might be best to wait till we’re ready to leave and hit it in the daytime, so we don’t have to mess with openin’ that safe.”
“Maybe on a Saturday afternoon,” Sly said.
* * *
Derringer spent most of the afternoon working on his weapons and picking up a few items he had forgotten to buy before he left for the high country in the morning. When it was time for supper, he left his room and entered the dining room through the hotel entrance, which was in the middle of the hallway his room was on. When he walked in the dining room, Cecil looked up, and seeing who it was, uttered a quick, “Good evening, Jesse.” Then he turned around and hurried to the kitchen door and called Rachael.
Rachael came out and stood beside Cecil and they began singing, “Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, dear Jesse . . .”
That was as far as they got before Rachael broke down in a fit of giggles and Cecil couldn’t finish without her support. Never changing the emotionless expression he came into the dining room wearing, Jesse said simply, “It ain’t my birthday.”
“Are you sure?” Rachael asked between giggles. “You mighta forgot what day this is.”
“I was born on September the tenth, thirty years ago,” he said. “I remember because I was there when it happened. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get something to eat.” He walked around them and went into the kitchen. When Clara turned from the stove to look at him, he said, “Mrs. Bowden, I’d like to have my supper now and I’d like to have a cup of coffee with it, please, ma’am.”
“Why, certainly, Mr. Derringer. Is something wrong?”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “I was just afraid Rachael might get it mixed up and take it to the wrong table.” Then he gave her a big grin and winked. “And the name’s Jesse.”
She understood what was going on then and smiled. “I’ll fix your plate and bring it to you, myself, with a cup of coffee, Jesse.”
“What did you do, go tell my mama on me?” Rachael teased when he came out of the kitchen. Cecil had already retreated to his station by the front door.
“My supper is too important to trust to somebody who gets as mixed up as you do,” he answered.
“Are you sure you didn’t just forget it was your birthday and you’re ashamed to admit it?” She chuckled. Obviously Julian had shared the cake story. She got serious then. “Have you found out who sent you the cake yet?”
“No, I haven’t got any idea.” He gave them a tired smile then.
He went on to enjoy his supper as much as if it was his birthday and he told them so. “Maybe I’ll change my birthday to this date from now on.”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Rachael said. “ ’Cause I’m writing this down on the calendar, September tenth, Jesse Derringer’s birthday. If you’re anywhere near Cheyenne on that date you better come to the party.”
“Might as well forget it,” he told her. “I’ll make it a point not to be here on that date.”
“What a sourpuss,” she said.
Before he finished, Sheriff Warton came into the dining room and, seeing Jesse, came over to join him. He told him about the body found on the path between the creek and the town. Jesse asked if he knew the man’s identity. “No,” Warton said. “There was still a little bit of snow on the ground down there under all the trees, so there were tracks, footprints, and hoofprints. But it didn’t look like there were more than one or two people. The dead man looked to be one of the drunks hanging around town. Whoever shot him put a bullet in the back of his head. Ain’t no tellin’ why. I doubt the poor beggar had anything worth killin’ him for. And the man that shot him had a gun and a horse. Don’t make no sense, does it? The no-name section of our new cemetery is gettin’ filled up faster than I’d like.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t make much sense,” Jesse had to agree. “Just a case of downright meanness, I reckon.”
“Cliff Crenshaw said you were plannin’ on leavin’ town tomorrow,” the sheriff said.
“That’s right,” Jesse replied. “I’ve been plannin’ to leave for the past couple of days and I’ve changed my mind every time because of the weather. I might make it tomorrow mornin’. I plan to be gone for only a week or maybe two, depending on what I find up through those mountain passes. I’d like to have something to tell General Dodge when he comes back here to continue that railroad.”
“Well, I hope you have a good trip,” Warton said. “We like havin’ you around, so don’t stay away too long.”
“Thank you, Sheriff, I appreciate that,” Jesse responded. He knew the sheriff was all too desperate for anyone with a gun on the side of law and order. “I think I’ll go and have a couple of drinks of whiskey and then I’m gonna turn in and maybe leave before breakfast. I ain’t makin’ no promises to myself.”
He got up from the table and Rachael walked him to the door. “You’re not really mad at Cecil and me, are you, Jesse?”
“Not a bit,” he replied. “I know all about children and their games.”
“You dog,” she said, and punched him on the shoulder with her fist.
“Don’t make me call your mother again,” he teased as he went out the door.
He left the hotel and walked through the street still busy with strangers, even though it was already into the evening hours and most of the shops and businesses were closing. Soon, nothing would be open but the saloons and the houses of prostitution, like Vera’s Vineyard. When he got to Dawkin’s he noticed the usual drunks hanging around in front of the door and he thought of the one who was murdered. He wouldn’t have known one was missing, if he hadn’t been told. He went inside and paused to look the room over, especially taking notice of the table in the back corner that had become the nightly headquarters for the gang of five drifters. He found himself hoping they would be missing tonight, having decided to move on. But that was not the case. They were all present and it appeared they all had their eyes on him, especially Ace, his leg bandaged and a crutch beside his chair. I probably should have gone to another saloon tonight, he thought. But he felt at home in Dawkin’s now and had gotten to know Sam pretty well. Besides, he never was one to go out of his way to avoid trouble.
“Evenin’, Jesse,” Sam greeted him when he walked up to the bar. He set a glass on the bar and poured Jesse’s drink without asking his pleasure.
“Evenin’,” Jesse returned. “I see your five best customers are still in town. They don’t seem to ever run out of money, do they?”
“No, they don’t,” Sam replied. “The way I had it figured is, I think they’ll eventually run out of money, then they’ll hold me up and leave town.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me a-tall,” Jesse said, then tossed his drink back.
Sam filled his glass again when he put it back on the bar. “I reckon I’ll find out tonight if I was right or not.”
“Why do you say that?” Jesse asked. He was aware of all eyes at the table focusing on him, but there didn’t seem to be any trouble coming to a boil. So maybe they’ve decided to leave me be, he thought. Although he had to admit that Ace seemed a little more tense than the other four.
“They’re leavin’ town in the mornin’,” Sam answered. “That Massey fellow told me that when they came in tonight.” He could see that the news surprised Derringer, so he continued. “They’ve already checked out of that room they were renting at Vera’s next door. Massey said they got their horses outta the stable this afternoon and made a camp down by the creek. Said they might come back after they pay a visit to some friends they’ve got at an Arapaho village about a dozen miles from here.”
Jesse took his time to consider that possibility before he tossed his second drink back. To begin with, he couldn’t believe any Indian village would have the likes of Massey and his gang as friends. When Sam got busy with other customers, his mind lingered on Jeb Massey and his boys. They appeared to no longer have any interest in him. That was a good thing, but it surprised him. Maybe they heard about my “birthday” and that’s why there’s no challenge, he joked to himself. He was tempted to delay his trip to the mountains again just to see if Massey really left town. Maybe they’ve just run out of money.
