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Authors: Tabor Evans
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robbed.”
“Now that’s one thing,” the sheriff said. “They all say the same. The robbers were quiet. Not a peep out of them during the holdups. And the passengers weren’t bothered. All they wanted was the cash box. And every time those boxes were full of currency and coin. They don’t hit every shipment of cash but whenever they hit there was plenty of cash in those boxes to be had.”
“Have details of the robberies been made public?” Longarm asked.
Hochavar nodded. “Of course. We don’t have a newspaper of our own, but there are papers in Lead andDeadwood and Miles City, too. We get all of them and they all had stories in them about the robberies.”
“Including the story by Jennifer Wiley? She’s the Englishwoman who…”
Hochavar waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I know Jen, all right, but she’s no more an Englishwoman than I am. She came out here as kitchen help in Lord Banfield’s hunting party. Her real name is Jennifer Vaughn and she is from the Bowery in New York City. Yeah, I know Jen, all right.”
“Is she still here? Can I interview her?”
“Sorry. She’s long gone. I don’t even know if she went back East or traveled on to California like she talked of doing.”
“Was she telling the truth in that article?” Longarm asked.
“Who knows. It could be, I suppose,” Hochavar said, “but I wouldn’t bank on it. She liked a tall tale as well as anybody.” The sheriff winked. “Liked her whiskey as good as anybody, too. Could have been whiskey talking in that story. Or she could have stumbled into something when she was passing herself off as a newspaperwoman. Which is what she wanted to be. The chance to travel and to see strange sights is probably why she took that job to begin with. That and to escape from the Bowery. She never admitted to me what she had done back there but I got the idea that it was something pretty bad.”
“How’d you come to know her?” Longarm asked.
The sheriff laughed. “Jen acted almost like a man. Her and me played cards together and drank some together. She isn’t a bad-looking girl and I think she liked me because I wasn’t always trying to get in her knickers the way most of the fellows did. With me it was just the cards and the liquor. And talk. Jen likes to talk.”
“But she’s gone now?”
Hochavar nodded. “Weeks ago.”
“Damn. I’d hoped to talk to her,” Longarm said.
“Sorry.”
“In your honest opinion, was she telling the truth in that article?”
“I just don’t know, Long. I just can’t help you there.”
“One more thing, Sheriff.” Longarm grinned. “Is there a decent hotel in town? It looks like I’ll be here for a few days until the next coach comes through.”
“Sure thing. You just go three blocks that way and…”
Chapter 23
It was a hotel, all right. As for how good a hotel it was, well, Longarm was reserving judgment about that. It seemed a little on the seedy side but he could have been wrong about that. And it did have a bed and a door that could be bolted shut. Beyond that it did not much matter.
He looked through his carpetbag to make sure there was nothing contained in it that could not be easily replaced—just in case the mice in the hotel had sticky fingers—and deposited the bag underneath the rumpled bed, the appearance of which made him suspect that the sheets were not changed very often.
For whatever it was worth he locked the hotel room door behind him—the lock could be jimmied with a butter knife—and went downstairs.
“Where can I find a good café?” he asked the desk man.
“There’s a café in the next block over,” the fellow told him. Then he grinned and added, “Or there’s a
good
café in the next block after that one. Dud’s place. And it would be a kindness if you’d mention that I sent you.”
“Dud?”
“Short for Dudley.”
“Thanks.” He left the hotel and went to the closer café, not the one that would give a kickback to the hotel
“Now that’s one thing,” the sheriff said. “They all say the same. The robbers were quiet. Not a peep out of them during the holdups. And the passengers weren’t bothered. All they wanted was the cash box. And every time those boxes were full of currency and coin. They don’t hit every shipment of cash but whenever they hit there was plenty of cash in those boxes to be had.”
“Have details of the robberies been made public?” Longarm asked.
Hochavar nodded. “Of course. We don’t have a newspaper of our own, but there are papers in Lead andDeadwood and Miles City, too. We get all of them and they all had stories in them about the robberies.”
“Including the story by Jennifer Wiley? She’s the Englishwoman who…”
Hochavar waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, I know Jen, all right, but she’s no more an Englishwoman than I am. She came out here as kitchen help in Lord Banfield’s hunting party. Her real name is Jennifer Vaughn and she is from the Bowery in New York City. Yeah, I know Jen, all right.”
“Is she still here? Can I interview her?”
“Sorry. She’s long gone. I don’t even know if she went back East or traveled on to California like she talked of doing.”
“Was she telling the truth in that article?” Longarm asked.
“Who knows. It could be, I suppose,” Hochavar said, “but I wouldn’t bank on it. She liked a tall tale as well as anybody.” The sheriff winked. “Liked her whiskey as good as anybody, too. Could have been whiskey talking in that story. Or she could have stumbled into something when she was passing herself off as a newspaperwoman. Which is what she wanted to be. The chance to travel and to see strange sights is probably why she took that job to begin with. That and to escape from the Bowery. She never admitted to me what she had done back there but I got the idea that it was something pretty bad.”
“How’d you come to know her?” Longarm asked.
The sheriff laughed. “Jen acted almost like a man. Her and me played cards together and drank some together. She isn’t a bad-looking girl and I think she liked me because I wasn’t always trying to get in her knickers the way most of the fellows did. With me it was just the cards and the liquor. And talk. Jen likes to talk.”
“But she’s gone now?”
Hochavar nodded. “Weeks ago.”
“Damn. I’d hoped to talk to her,” Longarm said.
“Sorry.”
“In your honest opinion, was she telling the truth in that article?”
“I just don’t know, Long. I just can’t help you there.”
“One more thing, Sheriff.” Longarm grinned. “Is there a decent hotel in town? It looks like I’ll be here for a few days until the next coach comes through.”
“Sure thing. You just go three blocks that way and…”
Chapter 23
It was a hotel, all right. As for how good a hotel it was, well, Longarm was reserving judgment about that. It seemed a little on the seedy side but he could have been wrong about that. And it did have a bed and a door that could be bolted shut. Beyond that it did not much matter.
He looked through his carpetbag to make sure there was nothing contained in it that could not be easily replaced—just in case the mice in the hotel had sticky fingers—and deposited the bag underneath the rumpled bed, the appearance of which made him suspect that the sheets were not changed very often.
For whatever it was worth he locked the hotel room door behind him—the lock could be jimmied with a butter knife—and went downstairs.
“Where can I find a good café?” he asked the desk man.
“There’s a café in the next block over,” the fellow told him. Then he grinned and added, “Or there’s a
good
café in the next block after that one. Dud’s place. And it would be a kindness if you’d mention that I sent you.”
“Dud?”
“Short for Dudley.”
“Thanks.” He left the hotel and went to the closer café, not the one that would give a kickback to the hotel
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