Ironhorse

60

We walked into the hotel, moving quietly past the pair of black bears that guarded the entrance, and into the main room. A single lamp was burning on a belayed wagon-wheel chandelier hanging low in the middle of the room. Big Burns stepped out of his small room behind the desk, yawning.

“Need something, Mr. Berkeley?”

Berkeley put his finger to his lips for Burns to be quiet.

Burns looked back and forth between the three of us. Berkeley got close to him.

“Seen anybody come or go?”

Burns shook his head.

“No, sir.”

“Stay put,” Berkeley said. “Make no noise.”

Burns nodded, looking at the three of us.

Berkeley retrieved a small cut-glass finger lantern from a low cupboard behind the desk and lit the wick. Once he got the flame going good, we followed him past the bobcats and walked very quietly up the steps to the second floor.

When we got to the second floor, Berkeley pointed to each of the rooms, identifying first Lassiter’s room and then Hobbs’ room. Then he stepped back, placing his back to the wall at the top of the staircase. I positioned myself with my Colt in front of Hobbs’ door. Virgil leaned the Henry rifle on the wall behind him, drew his bone handle, and got in front of Lassiter’s door. Berkeley pulled out a .38 Smith & Wesson Lemon Squeezer from his belt and nodded that he was ready.

I kept my eye on Virgil.

Virgil looked at me and dropped a sharp nod of his chin.

I moved fast, my shoulder hit Hobbs’ door hard, and in an instant I was in the room. Hobbs was flat on his back, lying naked in the center of the bed. The pretty whore we’d met earlier in the evening was riding him. She had a steady diagonal lope working that was causing Hobbs some toe curling, but she stopped and looked at me as if I was there to borrow some flour or sugar. Hobbs raised his head up like a turtle on its back. What hair he had on his head was pointing in every direction, and his face was beet red.

“Wh-what... What’s the meaning of this?” Hobbs said.

The whore stayed atop of Hobbs, looking at me. A skilled equestrian awaiting instruction.

“Off,” I said.

She responded quickly. She pulled back and slung one leg over him. Hobbs grabbed the crumpled bedding and covered his privates. The whore stayed on her knees, looking at me.

I picked up a crocheted blanket at the foot of the bed and tossed it to her.

“Who do you think you are?” Hobbs said.

“You know who I am, Mr. Hobbs.”

“Damn right I do, and you have no business coming here.”

“Stop talking,” I said. “I’m gonna let you get your trousers on. You’ll have plenty of time for talking, rest assured.”

Hobbs groveled, “Now, see here.”

I raised my Colt a little more toward the center of his eyes, and he stopped talking and shook his head.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Hobbs said. “Rose, get me my unders and trousers.”

Without wrapping herself in the blanket, Rose walked to the corner chair like she had a book on top of her head and retrieved Hobbs’ underwear and trousers. She walked back to the bed and handed Hobbs his clothing.

“Everett,” I heard Virgil call out from the hall, “you got Hobbs?”

“I do!”

Virgil stepped into the room, Colt in one hand, the Henry rifle in the other. Berkeley was a step behind him.

“Lassiter flew the coop.”