Ralph Compton Rusted Tin Page 12

  “Too much trouble? Why, of course not!”

  Of course not. Wolpert had to fight to keep from grinning at how easy it was to steer the other man in the proper direction. If he played his cards right, he’d probably be able to get Sam to buy him a steak dinner when he got back.

  “Do your best and do it quick,” Wolpert said. “I’ll be at the Third Street Hotel.”

  Sam blinked a few times in quick succession. If he was a different gender, the motion might be considered a flutter of the eyelashes. “The Third Street Hotel?”

  “That’s right. Is that a problem?”

  “Do you think they had something to do with the robbery?”

  “Why? Do you?”

  Sam looked toward Third Street and then quickly averted his eyes as if simply gazing toward the town’s most widely known collection of working girls was a sin. “No, I never thought of that. It’s just that those robbers are out there now. The longer they have to run—”

  “The more tired they’ll be,” the sheriff snapped. Quickening his pace toward the corner, he explained, “There’s a stable right next to the hotel and waiting there is just as good as waiting anywhere else. Besides, Emma can whip up some mighty fine eggs on short notice. You wouldn’t want me tracking on an empty stomach, would you?”

  Even though the sheriff had hastened toward the corner and was widening the gap every second, Sam muttered, “I . . . um . . . suppose not. I’ll just send those folks over there to tell you their accounts of what happened.”

  Wolpert led his horse around the corner and down Third Street.

  “Or I’ll send word and you can meet them somewhere more appropriate,” Sam continued to his audience of none.

  Wolpert was almost out of sight, and if he heard any of that last sentence, he gave no indication.

  Without a lawman’s ear to bend, Sam hurried to the stores across from the bank, already anxious at the prospect of barging in and announcing he was there on official business.

  Chapter 12

  The instant she saw Sheriff Wolpert stepping through her door, Emma Brown ran for the tin of flour in her kitchen. Several other girls along the way were quick to hop out of her path. The men who weren’t being entertained in one of the upstairs rooms watched her go as if they were observing a one-horse race. Emma was tall and gangly, with wavy hair that flowed behind her as she ran. Her long legs helped move her to the back of the hotel quickly while her slender body twisted and bent around the other people or pieces of furniture in her path.

  Once in the kitchen, she grabbed the flour tin, rummaged inside and found what she was after. Removing her hand revealed very little flour on her smooth skin, but a whole lot of money gripped in a possessive fist. The tin was quickly replaced and her hand was stuffed into her pocket so it would be hidden during her return trip down the hall.

  “Emma!” one of the younger girls shouted from the front room. “Zeke’s here!”

  “Send him up to my room,” she shouted.

  Without casting so much as a glance toward the door, Emma veered toward the staircase that led up to the second floor. She bounded up the stairs, made a left down the hall and went to the last door. Inside that room were her rolltop desk and several shelves that contained ledgers chronicling all of the business conducted in the Third Street Hotel, legal or otherwise. She grabbed a stumpy pencil, counted out the right number of bills from the money she’d collected, scribbled down the sum and put the remainder back into her pocket. Hearing the sound of distant footsteps, she looked up to find Wolpert already filling the doorway to her office.

  “Good Lord!” she yelped. “How does a man your size walk so quietly? You scared the daylights out of me!”

  “Sorry. Wasn’t my intent.”

  “I’ve got most of your money right here. I know it’s been a while, but I didn’t forget. We were slow for a while, but a few cattle drives came up from Texas and those boys are always randy when they climb down from their saddles. Here you go.”

  Wolpert barely looked at the hand she extended. “Forget about that.”

  The smile on her face flickered like a candle that had been set too close to an open window. “Go on and take it.”

  “You heard me,” he said in a level tone. “Keep it.”

  Some of the color drained from her face and she blinked several times in quick succession. “All right. I do have the rest,” she said while digging into her pocket for the remainder of the money. “The only reason I held back was because winter’s rolling in and it feels like it’s gonna be a hard one, which means business will slow to a trickle. When that happens, we feel the pinch and if we feel too much of it, we may have to trim back on some things. If we trim back, I won’t have the money to pay you the next bunch of times you come through town, and if that happens—”

  Wolpert stepped forward and took both of her hands in his. “No need to be so flustered. I’m not here to collect any money.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No,” he said while taking his hands away to leave every bit of cash in her possession. “I’m not.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Didn’t you hear about the bank robbery?”

  “Of course, but nobody expects you to come running for every crime. The question is, how did you hear about it?”

  He smirked and chuckled under his breath, amused by the fact that she was the first one to ask him that question. “Sam Waterman is gathering up some witnesses to tell me about what happened. I told him to bring them here. Is that all right?”

  “Sure! Especially since some of them will probably stay for something to eat or maybe one of the other house specialties. Speaking of that, why don’t you find your way to my room and we can work out something else to hold you over since you won’t take my money?”

  Reaching behind him, Wolpert made sure the office door was shut tight. “I didn’t come for that either. I’m a married man, you know.”

  “You call taking the same woman’s guff for way too long a marriage?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Well, believe me, my girls and I see plenty of married men come through this hotel and their situation never causes them to miss a step on the way up those stairs.” Emma’s eyes narrowed and she looked him over carefully. “What’s the matter with you, Zeke? You don’t want any money. You don’t want me. There’s something different about you. What is it?”

  “We’ve got some history, you and I,” he told her. “Sometimes I figure you know me better than anyone. Better than Jane, even.”

  “Jane only knows how to spend whatever you put in her hand and she doesn’t care how you get it. I may have only lived in Sedley for a year or two, but I knew her well enough to never drop any silver dollars where she could reach ’em. After you helped me set up shop out here, I half expected her to try and weasel her way in as a partner.”

  Wolpert nodded through all of that. Everything Emma said was true but didn’t seem to matter any longer. He needed a moment to steel himself, but he was finally able to ask, “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Afraid of you? No.”

  “A few moments ago, you sounded like you were bargaining for your life.”

  “Well, you normally don’t like to hear your payments are late. Even if we’re friends, I wouldn’t want to try and step on you.”

  “What if I said I didn’t want payments anymore?” Wolpert asked. “What if you just conduct your business the way it’s supposed to be conducted?”

  “Now I know something’s wrong. What is it?”

  “Something’s always been wrong. I knew it, but never had the gumption to set it straight. Have you ever been buried so deep in something that it seems like there ain’t no way out?”

  “Do you know who you’re asking?” she chuckled. “I’m the one that got so snowed under with debts to the men who used to be partners that they practically owned me, soul and all.”

  “What about the way you earn your living?”

  �
�What, you mean being a whore?” Emma asked. “For your information, I do a lot more than what most people think. This is still a real hotel, you know. And as for my girls, it ain’t easy running a business with so many employees no matter what they’re doing to earn their pay.”

  “Did you ever want to get out?”

  “I like what I do,” she told him while pacing to the door and then back to her desk. “If this is about making an honest woman out of me, you should know I don’t intend on giving up my hotel.”

  As Emma fluttered about the room like a panicked moth, Wolpert unbuttoned his coat, took a seat in a small padded chair against the wall, removed his hat and set it upon his knee. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to give up your hotel.”

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  Rather than answer her, Wolpert continued fussing with his coat and getting situated on the frilly chair. He seemed more concerned with crossing one leg over the other than the growing tension pouring off the woman in the room with him.

  Emma stepped right up to him, dropped to her knees so she could look him in the eyes and whispered, “Is this something to do with that bank robbery?” When Wolpert looked at her evenly without seeming even vaguely surprised by the accusation, she drew in a quick breath. “You robbed the bank?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then you arranged for it?”

  “Well . . . there may be some truth to that.”

  “So those three men who shot the place up are with you? Did they threaten to kill you for your share? Do you need somewhere to hide for a while? Is that what you mean by getting in over your head?”

  “No, Emma. What I mean is that I intend on bringing down Burt Sampil.”

  “I thought you and him were partners.”

  “I was on his payroll. I wasn’t ever a partner. Not until recently.”

  “So, you took him as a partner and now you want to bring him in?” She straightened up and rubbed her temples. “I must have lost you somewhere.”

  Wolpert practically jumped to his feet. The little chair overturned behind him and he pulled off his coat as if he were angry at it more than anything else. Once he got it off, he placed his hands upon his hips and started pacing the room. “When I was in the cavalry, it wasn’t so I could use my station to get rich. I had a duty and saw it through. I rode with good men who sometimes died out in the dirt without so much as a crooked stick to mark the spot where they fell. More than once, I thought I’d wind up beneath a few scoops of dirt, but the other men in my regiment saw to it that I came home.

  “We did good work, Emma. We helped families survive attacks from the Sioux. I even defended a few forts. Some of them burned to the ground after I left, but one of them stands to this day. I was drummed out of my rank because of a couple stupid mistakes. When I signed on to ride on a posse with Sheriff Vincent, I felt the old rush of blood through my veins.”

  Emma sat upon the edge of her desk and gently reached out to hold on to one of his wrists as he paced by her. That loose grip was all it took to keep him from stomping a rut in the floor. “I never knew any of this, other than you used to wear an army uniform. I always thought you must have looked handsome in that.”

  Letting the compliment pass without the slightest acknowledgment, Wolpert said, “I met Burt Sampil on that posse.”

  “Burt was on a posse?”

  “No, the posse was after him. I found him. He offered me a hundred dollars to look the other way so he could keep riding. It was easy money. I needed it. I looked the other way. When Burt showed up again after the dust settled, he said I could make even more without doing much more than I already had.”

  “So Burt’s the reason you started . . .” Emma bit her tongue as if she’d almost called him a filthy name. “After that is when you decided to make your collections?”

  “No. I took the money because I was lazy and because I thought that no matter what I did, the world would just keep turning like it always had. Men like him would always hurt folks. When I rode in the army, we’d help a group of wagons through some mess only to find those wagons upended and burning thirty miles down the same trail. Forts I’d defended burnt down anyway. Battles good men died to win were only fought again until they were lost. There just ain’t no point to it.”

  Emma clasped his hand so his palm rested upon hers. She used her other hand to softly stroke the top of his hand, feeling muscles that were nearly taut enough to snap. “Soldiers see plenty of bad things. They see the worst of it sometimes. It takes a toll on any man.”

  “That doesn’t give him the right to take the thing he’s supposed to represent and make a joke out of it just so he can line his pockets.” When he looked at her, Wolpert stared straight into her eyes with an intensity that was jarring. “What if I’d done that when I was wearing my army uniform?” he asked. “That would have made me a traitor! I would have been shot for it and rightfully so.”

  “That may be a bit much in your case. You didn’t ever do anything traitorous while in uniform, did you?”

  “No.”

  “As for using a badge for your own benefit, that’s hardly anything new. In my line of work, I’ve seen more crooked lawmen than I can count. They’re practically part of the natural order of things,” Emma said. “In fact, I’d wager that there are just as many lawmen out there who bend the rules as there are those who enforce them.”

  “That don’t make it right,” Wolpert growled.

  She smiled at him as if she were admiring the face of a young boy who’d gotten attached to her after paying for his first tussle under the sheets. “So after all these years, Sheriff Ezekiel Wolpert decides to polish off his badge and do right? I suppose after bringing Burt Sampil to justice, you’ll make amends for all the money you stole or all the collections you’ve made to honest businesses like mine?”

  Turning as if he’d entered into a whole other conversation, he grunted, “Honest businesses like yours?”

  “More or less!”

  “Because of me, this whole county is a haven for killers like Burt Sampil and his boys. Because of me, good folks are getting hurt. Don’t you see that?”

  Walking around her desk to sit in the larger of the two chairs, Emma took a cigarette from a pristine silver case and slid it between her full red lips. “I see, Zeke,” she said while striking a match to light the cigarette. “I’ve always seen that your heart’s in the right place. Just be sure it stays there.”

  “Are you my conscience now?”

  “No, I mean make sure it stays in your chest. If you plan on crossing Burt Sampil, there’s a real good chance that a lot of valuable parts of your body may wind up scattered to the four winds.”

  “You don’t think I know that?” Wolpert snapped.

  “I’m just giving you a friendly reminder,” she replied. After studying him for a good, long time, Emma whispered, “You’re really serious about this.”

  “Yeah. I am. I stopped by to ask you a favor. I know you’ve got a lot of friends from bounty hunters and lawmen all the way up to federals. If something happens to me or if you don’t hear from me within the next few weeks, I want you to track me down. You’ll probably need to start looking in Texas. No matter what becomes of me, you’ll also need to go to my home in Sedley.”

  “You mean that old shack of yours?”

  “That’s the one. Pull up the floorboards underneath my cot and you’ll find some money I’ve been squirreling away. If the banks hadn’t gotten their money back by then, repay them using that money and you keep the rest for yourself.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What makes you think I won’t just keep it all no matter what?” she asked.

  “Because I know you better than that. You wouldn’t deny a man his last request.”

  She pulled in a deep breath and let it out along with a gust of smoke. “This request better not get me involved in the mess you got planned with Burt.”

  “Ther
e’s no reason for it to, but I can’t guarantee anything.” Turning to face her head-on, he added, “But considering our history and that everyone knows I got a regular room at this hotel, I’d say Burt figures you’ll always have some connection to me.”

  Emma sighed warily, took a pull from her cigarette and sent a plume of smoke into the air. “I’m surprised Jane hasn’t found out about that room of ours and come here to set it on fire.”

  As the smoke curled around his head, Wolpert shifted his gaze toward the floor and muttered, “She knows. Just like I know about the men she’s been keeping company throughout our farce of a marriage. We’ve been through with each other for a long time. Now I’m through with all them things that the boy in that old, clean cavalry uniform of mine wouldn’t have been able to stomach.”

  “So what brought about this change?”

  “I’ve been thinking of things differently since I met this . . . well, this livery owner.”

  “A woman?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Leaning to prop her elbows upon her desk and rest her chin upon her hands, Emma said, “You didn’t have to. No man would talk about some smelly liveryman in that tone of voice unless . . .”

  “Not unless,” Wolpert said, “she’s a woman.”

  “And not your wife,” she pointed out with distinct amusement.

  “No. Not my wife. The only thing Jane ever inspired me to do is go out to scrounge up some more money just to keep her satisfied.”

  “So this livery woman inspired you? She must be special.” Raising her voice to a lyrical, singsong pitch, Emma said, “Like some angel that drifted from the heavens to set a poor wayward man onto the path of the straight and narrow.”

  “Even when I first met Jane and things were the best they ever were between us, I knew it wasn’t anything miraculous. Meeting Lucy just once was different, though.”

  “Like a miracle?” Emma asked wistfully. “I’ve felt that once or twice.”

  Wolpert got up and went to the office’s only window. Only after he’d pulled aside the curtains did the sound of an approaching bunch of people drift up from the street. One of the many voices down there belonged to Sam Waterman. The rest were chattering like a bunch of excited little birds. “It was something, but I don’t know about all of that.”