Do or Die

Chapter Three

“Yeddy ho! Sweet potatoes, so! Best to be found!”

Charley Pickett heard Melissa at the same instant he saw her. Not as many people were out and about in the middle of the day, and traffic was light. He brought the manure wagon over next to the boardwalk, wrapped the reins around the brake, and hopped down. He was so worried, he forgot himself and gripped her by the arm. “Melissa! Have you seen Tony?”

Melissa had not noticed him and about jumped out of her skin. “Charley! Goodness gracious. Don’t sneak up on a person like that!” Relaxing, she smiled and did not ask him to remove his hand. “What are you doing here? Has Mr. Leeds given you time off?”

“I’m on an errand.” Charley stepped back in disappointment. “Tony is leaving for San Francisco today. By noon, he told me. It’s almost that now. I stopped by his place, but his cart was gone, and his landlady said he had given notice and bid her good-bye.”

“Tony is leaving?”

“You don’t have to sound so happy about it. He’s the only real friend I have.” Charley quickly added, “Besides you, I mean. I know the two of you don’t get along, but I’ll miss him something awful.”

From behind them came a chuckle. “Buon giorno. Is the world coming to an end and no one told me, my friend? You look as if you swallowed a scorpion.”

“Tony!” Charley was so happy, he lifted his friend. “I was scared to death you were gone! Where have you been?” A battered valise at Tony’s feet sobered him, and he put Tony down.

“I went to the stable to say so long, as I promised. But Leeds said you were not back from the potato farm. He is mad at you, by the way. He says he could unload ten manure wagons in the time it takes you to unload one.” Tony doffed his cap to Melissa and gave a courtly bow. “So I came to ask your amica if she would relay my regards for me. And here you are.”

“I don’t want you to go.”

Tony smiled. “You know why I must. Already I hear Radtke has men out searching. The police are not after me yet, but they are slow about such things.”

“The police?” Melissa covered her pot with a lid. “What have you done that involves them?”

“Nothing that need concern you.” Tony picked up his valise.

“Wait!” Charley’s idea was bubbling in him like lava in a volcano. “What if you could get your hands on the stake you want? What if all of us could end up with more money than we thought possible? Stick around awhile and hear me out.”

Tony surveyed the street. “Start talking. I must be gone within the hour.”

“Not here. Somewhere we can have peace and quiet.” Charley had never been much good at expressing himself and would need time to convince them.

“There is a tavern a few blocks west. The owner knows me, and I trust him. He will give us a private room at the back. “

Charley looked at Melissa. “This concerns you too. Please say you’ll come with us.”

“I’ve never set foot in a tavern in my life. My mother always said they were no place for a proper lady.”

Tony muttered something that Charley didn’t catch. “Please, Melissa,” he urged. “Just this once. Do it for me. I’ll protect you, if it comes to that. But it’s important, or I wouldn’t ask.”

“My mother would roll over in her grave, but all right. For you, and you alone.” Melissa gave Tony a sharp look. “Would you mind answering my question about the police? I’ve never been arrested, and I don’t intend to start.”

“At the tavern,” Tony said.

Charley was eager to be off. “Hop in the wagon, and I can have us there in no time.”

“What about my potatoes?”

Tony was already heading for the wagon. “For God’s sake, woman. Bring your precious pot if you must. I can not stay out in the open like this, or I am a dead man.”

Melissa gave in, but she took forever taking the pot off the tripod and folding the tripod. “Where do I put my utensils?” she asked, staring at the manure-encrusted bed.

“Under the seat will be fine.” Charley helped her, then boosted her up and climbed on. He was so big, there was barely enough space for the three of them. Melissa was wedged between them, her hands folded in her lap. She wouldn’t look at Tony, and he wouldn’t look at her.

Charley set the team in motion. “This is the greatest day of our lives,” he announced to whet their interest, but neither took the bait.

The tavern was a seamy little building set back from the street. Melissa balked at entering until Charley took her arm and assured her he would be by her side the whole time. A swarthy Italian came up to them and huddled with Tony, then pointed down a dark hallway.

The small room smelled of odors far worse than manure. Melissa scrunched up her nose and started to back out, but Charley ushered her to a bench against the left wall: the only item of furniture.

Tony stepped to the other wall, dropped his valise, and squatted. “All right. Here we are. Now what is so importante you risk my life?”

Both of them looked at Charley, who suddenly had a pickle in his throat.

“We’re waiting,” Melissa said impatiently.

Charley licked his lips. “Last night Tony and me were talkin’ about how we need a stake. How if we had enough money, we could make something of our lives. Pick ourselves up off the street and become respectable.”

“I’ve had the same dream,” Melissa said. “There’s no future in hawking. You never make enough to get ahead. It’s hand to mouth, with more lean times than flush. But good jobs for women are few and pay pennies. And I refuse to become one of those.”

Charley’s confusion must have shown, because Tony laughed and said, “She will never offer herself for money.” His next comment, spoken almost in a whisper, was odd. “I pity the fool who tries to touch her.”

Melissa came off the bench with her bony fists bunched. “You promised never to bring that up again. So help me, I’ll sock you on the nose if you don’t get over yourself. Just because you’re so good-looking doesn’t mean every female you meet will swoon at your feet.”

“What are you two talkin’ about?” Charley asked.

“It’s between your friend and me.” Flames danced in Melissa’s eyes. “He knows, and that’s all that counts. So what will it be, Mr. Stallion? Will you act your age and drop it?”

Tony was tight-lipped with anger.

“So far I’ve kept this strictly between us. But I won’t if you persist.” Melissa was madder than Charley had ever seen her. “What is it with men? My uncle and you are a lot alike, only he was worse. I’ll hold my peace. But this is the last time, you hear me?”

Charley saw Tony’s expression undergo a puzzling change. It went from angry to serene to an undeniable sorrow. Sadness so deep, Charley felt sad just looking at him. He was glad when Tony shook himself and smiled.

“Consider the matter dropped.” Tony seemed to develop an interest in his shoes. “Now, can we get on with why we are here? Every minute I remain is another minute my life is in danger.”

Melissa unclenched her fists and sat back down. “Suppose you get on with your grand revelation, Charley.”

“Huh?” Charley never had been able to follow two trains of thought at once. Having one derailed so abruptly threw him, and it was a few seconds before he exclaimed, “My brainstorm? Sure enough. Wait until you hear.” He leaned forward with his forearms on his knees. “What would you say if I have a way for each of us to end up with more than two thousand dollars in our pockets?”

“I would say the altitude is getting to you,” Tony cracked. “They say Denver is over a mile high.”

“Go on, Charley,” Melissa coaxed. “I’ve endured this much. I might as well hear the rest.”

Here it was, the moment Charley had been leading up to. He could scarcely contain himself. “Ever heard of the Hoodoos?”

“Do you mean those horrible horse thieves up in Wyoming?” Melissa responded. “The ones who steal horses from Indians and sell them to whites in Nebraska and Kansas or wherever? The newspaper carries stories about them all the time.” She tilted her head. “Why?”

“They went too far and killed some troopers not long ago, and now the government has posted a bounty on their heads. Seven thousand dollars, dead or alive.” Charley waited for them to catch on and be filled with the same excitement he felt, but they stared at him as if he were a block of wood. “Well? Don’t you see? That seven thousand dollars can be ours.”

For the first time, Melissa and Tony looked at one another without a trace of hostility. Both burst out laughing. Tony rocked on his heels, while Melissa covered her mouth with her hand and tittered with abandon.

“I don’t rightly see what’s so hilarious.” Charley was miffed. “Seven thousand dollars is nothin’ to laugh at. We’d split it three ways. I could buy a farm somewhere. Tony would have enough to make a start in San Francisco. And Melissa, well, you could use your share toward the millinery you talked about ownin’ one day.”

Melissa had stopped tittering. “I would get an equal share? Be an equal partner? For real? You would take me with you and let me help out?”

“That’s fair, isn’t it? You could do the cookin’ and stuff like that. But I’d never put you in danger. Once we catch up to the Hoodoos, Tony and me will take over and do what needs doing.”

“I would insist on pulling my weight,” Melissa said. “I’ve never freeloaded in my life. An honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work, my mother always said.”

Tony stood up. “Listen to the two of you. Talking about shares and what’s fair. As if we will ever see any of that money.” He snorted. “Even if by some miracle we found them, the Hoodoos aren’t about to throw down their guns and give up. We would be dead before we lifted a finger.”

“Not if we do it smart,” Charley insisted. “Not if we can take them by surprise. One by one, say, when they’re least liable to expect anything.”

“You are matto, my friend. Insane. I have read the newspapers. Their leader is Brock Alvord, a most clever desperado. The rest are deadly killers, Kid Falon most of all. The newspapers say he murdered his first man when he was ten, and he has been killing ever since. Your effort to help means a lot, but you must be practical. Besides, we could not find the Hoodoos if we hunted for them forever.”

“I know someone who might be willing to help,” Melissa offered. “He’s had a lot of experience tracking and hunting and the like. But we’d probably have to offer him a share of the bounty.”

“Who is he? What does he do?” Charley supposed they could divide the money four ways instead of three. It would still leave him with enough for a sizeable down payment on a good piece of land.

“His name is Enos Howard. He used to shoot buffalo for a living. He buys potatoes from me now and then, and from what he’s told me, he’s been all over, from Montana to Mexico.”

Tony was skeptical. “If this Howard is so good, why did he give up hunting buffalo?” He shook his head in amusement. “Will you listen to me? I am as crazy as you two. Why are we still talking about this?” He picked up the valise.

“Wait!” Charley blocked the doorway. “What harm can it do to go see Howard? If he’s as good as Melissa says, he could be just what we need.” Charley turned to her. “Do you know where this hunter lives?”

“I know where we can find him at six tonight. A saloon on Sixteenth Street. He always goes there after he eats his potatoes.”

Tony tried to slip past Charley to reach the latch. “I wish you both the best. But there is a mule train heading west in an hour, and I have paid to ride with a mule skinner on one of the wagons.”

“You would pass up a chance at close to two thousand dollars?”

“I cannot spend the money if I am dead.” Tony set down his valise again. “Tell me. These Hoodoos. How long have they been stealing and killing?”

“Five years or better, or so I’ve heard.” Charley didn’t see why Fabrizio was making such a fuss.

“Haven’t you wondered how they can go on stealing and killing for so long? Why hasn’t a marshal or a sheriff arrested them? I will tell you. Because the marshals and the sheriffs are scared of them. They are cattivo, these Hoodoos. Vicious. They kill for the thrill of killing. Kid Falon once shot a man for snoring too loud. It should teach you something.”

“It does. We better buy guns before we head out.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You are doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what? All I want is for us to have enough money to do the things we’ve always dreamed about. We’re sure not going to earn enough shovelin’ hay or sellin’ potatoes or trough water. A chance like this comes along once in a lifetime. We should take it before someone else beats us to it.” Charley paused. “Six o’clock isn’t that far off. Can’t you lie low until then? I’d like you to be there when we talk to Enos Howard.”

“The mule train leaves in an hour.”

Charley glanced at Melissa for support. “Talk to him. Show him he’s makin’ a mistake he’ll regret the rest of his life.”

“Me?”

“You’re smarter than me, Melissa. Heck, you’re both smarter than me. I know that. So he’ll listen to you. Tell him it can be done. Tell him it’s worth the risk to stick around a day or so, or as long as it takes for us to get ready.”

Melissa gazed at Tony but said nothing. Tony gazed at Charley for the longest while, then sighed.

“If it means this much to you, I will tell the mule skinner to go on without me, and I will catch up with him later. I can always take a stage to Santa Fe and get there before they do.”

“I knew you would change your mind!” Charley whooped for joy. “Wait and see! Both of you will thank me before this is done!”

They separated after agreeing to meet in front of Kincaid’s Beer and Billiards on Sixteenth Street at ten minutes to six. Charley pushed the team as fast as he could, but he still didn’t arrive at the livery until twelve thirty. Mr. Leeds was waiting out front, and to say he was in fine spirits would be a lie.

“Let me guess. You couldn’t find Klimek’s potato farm and wound up going all the way to Canada? Or did you decide to take a tour of Kansas City and St. Louis on your way back?”

“Neither.” Charley hopped down and began stripping the harness.

“That’s it? No feeble excuses for why you’re so late? A wheel didn’t break? A horse didn’t throw a shoe? The earth didn’t open up and swallow you and the wagon whole?”

“Nope. I stopped to talk with a couple of friends.”

Leeds made a sound that came out as a “Har rummph!” Then he opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “As the Lord is my witness, I don’t know what to make of you, Charley Pickett. You squander my time, and when I confront you, you freely confess. You’re either one of the most honest young men I’ve ever run across, or else you’re a simpleton.”

Charley had a thought. “You’ve lived here a good long while, haven’t you, Mr. Leeds?”

“How does that pertain?”

“I was just thinkin’ that you must know a lot about a lot of people, given how you keep up with the latest news and all.”

“I try. Every citizen owes it to himself to stay well informed. It wouldn’t hurt if you kept up with things too. You’re never too young to do your part to make your community a better place to live.”

Charley hadn’t meant that at all. Afraid Leeds was about to launch into one of his long-winded spiels, he quickly asked, “Ever heard of a man called Enos Howard?”

Mr. Leeds scratched his chin. “Howard? Howard? Where have I heard that name before?” He snapped his fingers and nodded. “Of course! The buffalo hunter. The one involved in that fracas with the Blackfeet on the upper Missouri River. The Battle of the Chalk Cliffs, I believe it was called.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Charley didn’t stop working. He knew the moment he did, Leeds would stop talking.

“Not many have. Let me see. It happened about ’66. Or was it ’65? A bunch of buffalo hunters were jumped by a Blackfoot war party. Two were killed outright, and the rest ran for their lives. The Blackfeet chased them clear to the bluffs overlooking the Missouri. With their backs to the chalk cliffs, the buffalo hunters used their Sharps rifles to keep the Blackfeet at bay. Howard was hailed as a hero because he picked off a Blackfoot chief at a range of three-quarters of a mile, and the rest took that as a sign of bad medicine and rode off.”

“Three-quarters of a mile?”

“I keep forgetting that although you’re a country boy, you’re green as grass when it comes to life on the frontier. And while I’m a city dweller myself, I’ve learned a few things over the years. Among them, that a skilled marksman with a Sharps can hit a man-sized target from a mile away or more.”

To Charley, it bordered on the preposterous. He had done a lot of hunting in Kentucky and could drop a buck at two hundred yards. But a mile? That had to be another of those outlandish tall tales frontiersmen were so fond of spreading. “What else do you know about Enos Howard?”

“Let’s see. There was an item in the newspaper about the time he tried to break Buffalo Bill Cody’s record for killing the most buffalo in a certain span of time, but Howard fell short, as I recall. Then he was involved in a shooting match with Jesse Comstock. It had something to do with seeing which of them could shoot the most bull’s-eyes. Howard lost, I believe, and nothing much was heard about him again until he showed up in Denver a year or so ago. He’s been here ever since, generally making a nuisance of himself.” To demonstrate, Leeds raised an imaginary glass or bottle to his mouth and mimicked drinking.

To Charley, it didn’t sound promising. A drunk would be of no use on a manhunt.

“Now, is there anything else you would like to know?” Leeds asked. “The history of Denver, perhaps? Or maybe I should recite the Declaration of Independence?”

“You’re pullin’ my leg,” Charley said. “But there is one more thing you can do for me. You can let me go early tonight. Say, about five thirty?”

Mr. Leeds did a marvelous imitation of someone who had swallowed a chicken egg, shell and all. “Is there no limit to your gall, young man? Give me one reason why I should agree.”

Charley was about to lead the team to their stalls. “The credit is all yours.”

“Honestly, there are moments when I can’t decide if you are sincere or, as you just so quaintly phrased it, pulling my leg.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me I should set my sights on something I desire more than anything else, then go after it, heart and soul?” Charley quoted. “Well, it so happens I’ve found something, and I’m takin’ your advice.”

“Indeed?” Mr. Leeds was flattered. “In that case, I’ll gladly give you the evening off. But I expect you to make up the extra time on your day off. That is, if you want a full week’s pay.”

The hours crawled by. Charley was so preoccupied, he didn’t hear four men enter the stable. He was in the tack room repairing a bridle when one coughed. He rose to go see what they wanted, but the bridle slipped off his lap to the ground, and in the time it took for him to bend and retrieve it, Mr. Leeds came out of his office to greet them.

“May I help you gentlemen? I’m the proprietor. Artemis Leeds, at your service. My livery has some of the finest horses, buggies, and carriages for rent anywhere in Denver. By the hour or the day, at affordable rates.”

The quartet wore suits and bowlers. At first glance they looked like businessmen, but something about them reminded Charley of Loritz and Arch. Maybe it was how they carried themselves, like coiled springs. Or maybe it was their hard features. One wore a vest with mother-of-pearl buttons and a gold watch chain dangling from one of its pockets. He had blond hair and blue eyes and carried a polished cane with an ivory knob at the top. The others were slabs of muscle with thick necks and knuckles as big as walnuts.

“My associates and I are not here to rent anything, Mr. Leeds,” said the fancy dresser with the gold watch chain. “We are searching for someone. The word on the street is that you have a farm boy working for you. Pickett. Charles Pickett. We would very much like a word with him, if you don’t mind.”

Charley’s mouth went dry. He thought for sure Mr. Leeds would point to where he was, but his employer responded, “Haven’t you any manners, sir? Or don’t people introduce themselves where you come from?”

The man with the cane raised it. For a moment Charley thought he was going to strike Leeds, but instead he rested the knob on his right shoulder and smiled an oily smile. “I am Ubel Gunther. My friends and I work for Walter Radtke. Perhaps you have heard this name?”

“Who hasn’t? He’s very rich and very powerful.”

Ubel’s smile widened, but Mr. Leeds wasn’t finished.

“It’s well known that your Mr. Radtke has his dirty fingers in every illegal and illicit enterprise in Denver. Were I to make a list of the ten most detestable men in the city, he would be at the top.”

A lantern-jawed husky with shoulders as wide as Charley’s took a step toward Leeds but stopped when Ubel motioned with the cane. “Watch that temper of yours, Hans. Remember our instructions.” Ubel pushed his bowler back on his head using the knob of his cane, then said softly, “Where is the farm boy, stableman?”

“How should I know? I sent him on an errand, and he never came back. Young people today have no sense of responsibility. Why, when I was his age, I would have been grateful for a job like this.”

“Spare me your life’s story.” Ubel regarded Leeds a few moments. “I trust you wouldn’t lie to us. We wouldn’t like that. Not one bit.” Ubel glanced around the stable.

Instinctively, Charley crouched down, although it was unlikely Gunther would spot him there in the shadows.

“Since the farm boy isn’t here, we won’t take up any more of your time. But we’ll be back.” Ubel turned to go. “It is in your best interest to keep our visit to yourself.”

Mr. Leeds did not move until they were out of sight, then he uttered the first swear words Charley had ever heard him say. Charley went out.

“I trust you heard everything? How on earth did you make an enemy of a man like Walter Radtke?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Charley said.

“This is serious. Radtke is not anyone to trifle with.” Mr. Leeds looked at him, and Leeds was worried. “Take some more of my advice, and make yourself scarce. Otherwise, as surely as the sun rises every morning, your days are numbered.”