Then they rode off at a gallop behind the rider. Matthew and his group ducked into the saloon, but the men didn’t turn their way and carried on toward the railroad tracks beyond the edge of town.

  “That looked like he got bad news,” Tarrant said.

  “It did,” Matthew said. “The more important thing is, aside from the receptionist, those were the only men I saw in the hotel.”

  “So Jimmy’s kidnappers could be the only ones we’ll have to take on,” Creighton said.

  This optimistic outlook made everyone smile so, at a calm pace, they headed out of the saloon. On the way to the hotel, nobody appeared at the windows and, when they reached the door, he beckoned the others to stop.

  “Before we go any farther, we need to agree on what we’re looking for here,” he said.

  “We want the money that’s rightfully ours, but kidnapping that kid was wrong,” Creighton said. “So we free the kid first and we get our money back second.”

  Matthew turned to Tarrant who provided a sharp nod.

  “I’m obliged,” Matthew said. He turned to the door, but Creighton slapped a hand on his arm and drew him back.

  “If the kid’s not there, we still want our money.”

  Creighton gripped his hand tightly, effectively asking the question that had been on Matthew’s mind since he’d decided to join them.

  “I won’t help you steal, but I won’t stop you either,” he declared.

  “That’s good enough for us,” Creighton said. He raised his hand and, with that, the three men slipped inside quietly.

  Unlike the last time, the surly receptionist wasn’t on duty, although Matthew heard people moving around nearby. The three men huddled and they exchanged nods and gestures, debating their next move.

  Then they checked out the rooms downstairs, none of which were occupied other than the room behind the reception desk in which six men were milling around. There was no sign of Jimmy so, in single file, they headed for the stairs.

  They reached the second floor without being confronted. Matthew tried the first door on the corridor, finding it unlocked, but it presented only a basic room with a bed and a chair, as did the next two doors.

  The final door on the corridor had a more solid construction and it was locked. Tarrant was at the back and, with a chuckle, he put hands to both men’s arms and pushed them aside. Then he slipped between them, while grinning and waggling his fingers as he got his first opportunity to demonstrate his talent.

  Within a minute the door swung open to reveal opulent leather chairs, numerous engraved cabinets and a desk that was the same design as the one in the mayor’s office, except it was larger. Tarrant stayed at the door while Creighton tried the only other door in the room, which led into a small, unoccupied bedroom.

  “This has to be Elijah’s lair, but there’s no sign of that kid being held hostage up here,” Tarrant whispered.

  Matthew nodded. Then, while Creighton searched the room, he and Tarrant tried the rest of the doors. All but one of them opened to reveal a basic bedroom that didn’t appear to have been occupied recently.

  The last room didn’t have a bed, but it had several chairs, along with a table on which a poker game had been left abandoned. The stench of tobacco, whiskey and sweat suggested that the men who had confronted him earlier had used this room until they’d left with Elijah. When he and Tarrant returned to Elijah’s office, Creighton was sitting at the desk, leafing through a ledger.

  “He’s used our money to good effect,” he said. “He could return it to us ten times over and still stay in business.”

  As he’d failed in his main objective, Matthew bade Creighton to guard the door while he took over trying to unravel the details of Elijah’s business dealings. He wasn’t sure what to look for, but he hoped he might come across something that would link him to Newman.

  While he rummaged, Tarrant wandered around the room searching for valuables. Matthew judged that a haul of the more valuable trinkets that he picked up, appraised and then put down in the same place might satisfy his colleagues, but Tarrant continued searching for something more valuable and, after fifteen minutes, he found it.

  He got both men’s attention with an excited wave and then, with a flourish, he opened the innocuous-looking cabinet in the corner. Both men came over to be faced with an empty interior, but before they could scoff about his mistake, Tarrant removed a hook that was hanging on the back of the door.

  With a knowing wink, he used it to lever away the false back of the cabinet. He propped the wood against the wall and then stood aside to reveal that set into the wall was a safe. With another waggle of the fingers, Tarrant got to work. As this meant they would be leaving soon, Matthew returned to the desk and set out about putting the ledger and other items he’d been reading back where he’d found them.

  “Is there anything incriminating?” Tarrant asked as he worked.

  Matthew shook his head. “As far as I could make out, he’s recorded only his legitimate, and lucrative, business transactions.”

  “A man who keeps good records probably also details the less legitimate transactions.”

  Matthew smiled at Tarrant, but then shook his head, showing that although he agreed, time was pressing. Then, bearing in mind how Tarrant had found the safe, he patted the bottom of each drawer.

  They all returned solid sounds so he checked the depth of the drawers against the width of the desk. The bottom drawer turned out to be less deep than the others so, using a key, he prized open the back of the drawer to reveal a thin journal. He flicked through it, noting the neat rows of names and numbers.

  “Have you got something?” Creighton asked.

  Matthew slipped the book in his pocket. “I don’t know what it is. but Elijah wanted it kept secret, so it must be important.”

  “But not as important as this,” Tarrant called from the corner.

  When he had both men’s attentions, he swung open the safe door to reveal three shelves of packed contents, but just as Tarrant started smiling, a heavy thud sounded.

  “That was too loud,” Creighton said.

  “I know, but it’s been a while since. . . .” Tarrant trailed off and then shook his head. He turned to Creighton. “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice the trip wire. I reckon I set off an alarm.”

  A moment later he was proved correct when raised voices sounded downstairs.

  “Grab what you can,” Creighton urged, slipping out into the corridor. “Then run.”

  Tarrant located a folded bag in the bottom of the safe and quickly he shoved handfuls of bills and several boxes that rattled into the bag before slamming the safe door shut. Then he joined Matthew in hurrying to the door.

  As an afterthought, Matthew doubled back to the desk and swept the ledgers to the floor to add to the confusion. When he joined the other two men in the corridor, footfalls were pounding up the stairs.

  He judged that more than one man was coming for them. So, with only seconds to act, he left the door open and they slipped into the room two doors down, the farthest room they could reach.

  Creighton had just closed the door when the men reached the corridor. He and Creighton stayed by the door while Tarrant headed to the window. As they hoped, the men ran by their room and hurried into Elijah’s office.

  Cries of alarm sounded. Then they dashed out into the corridor and threw open the first door. Tarrant coordinated their pursuers’ action with the moment he pushed open the window and, when he nodded, the other two men hurried over to join him.

  With discovery imminent, Tarrant had no choice but to hurl the bag through the window. Then he swung his legs over the sill and lowered himself down. He hung on to the sill for a moment before dropping.

  Creighton and then Matthew followed his lead with neither man delaying to check on how close their pursuers were. Just as Matthew sat on the sill, the door swung open. He quickly dropped down to dangle before releasing his grip.

  He landed on the soft earth at the back of the hotel with knees bent. He still stumbled backward, but Creighton grabbed him and stilled his progress. Then the three men ran for the corner of the building reaching it before the men upstairs leaned out of the window.

  “Scatter,” Matthew said, receiving nods from Tarrant and Creighton and, with no time to even debate where they’d meet up, they ran off in different directions.

  While clutching the bag to his chest, Tarrant picked a route that took him away from the front door and into the heart of town. Matthew ran across the street, while Creighton ran toward the door, aiming to go past it and run to the outskirts of town.

  When Matthew reached the other side of the street, to his relief, Tarrant was no longer visible while Creighton’s distraction had worked. He’d been spotted and four of the men who had come out of the hotel were chasing him while only two men were heading across the street after him.

  Nobody appeared to be following Tarrant. Matthew turned on his heel and ran. Within a minute, he reached the corner of the street. Then he pounded down the boardwalk, aiming to head to the law office. He had covered only a few dozen yards when Marshal Wyndham appeared and walked toward him.

  “Trouble?” Wyndham called.

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Matthew shouted.

  He slowed to a halt and checked behind him. His pursuers were rounding the corner, but the sight of the approaching lawman made them double-back.

  “Like all of Elijah’s men they haven’t got much fight in them,” Wyndham said when he joined him. “But I don’t like seeing my deputy running away. What did you catch them doing?”

  “I was looking for Franklin’s son. I reckon Elijah kidnapped him.”

  “So do I. I’m going to the Full Moon Hotel to question him.”

  “You won’t find him there. He left town twenty minutes ago.” Matthew pointed, indicating the railroad tracks that headed east toward Hunter’s Pass. Wyndham’s gaze was stern and, although he was sure that his boss wouldn’t appreciate the explanation, he pressed on anyhow. “So, with Elijah gone, I went to his hotel.”

  “And those men wouldn’t let you in?”

  “I sneaked in. They chased me out.”

  For long moments Wyndham faced him. Then he took a step backward while checking that nobody was close.

  “This time I’ll accept the blame for your mistake. You stood up to Elijah Moon’s men and I thought that made you a good man to deputize. Now I can see that a jailbird thinks like a man who evades the law and not like a lawman who upholds it.”

  “I tried to find a kidnapped child,” Matthew snapped. “You’re not telling me I was wrong to do that.”

  “You weren’t wrong, but the way you did it was. If you reckoned Elijah kidnapped Jimmy, you should have followed him out of town.”

  “I thought Jimmy was being held in the hotel.”

  “Then you should have gone through the front door and demanded to be shown every room. If someone stood in your way, you should have arrested him, not run away.”

  Matthew lowered his head, struggling for a suitable answer. Wyndham was right, but he couldn’t tell him what he’d really been doing.

  “Either way, Jimmy wasn’t there and I don’t reckon he ever was.”

  “Then the bad news keeps mounting up for that family. Franklin headed out to Snake Gorge, presumably to search for his boy. I followed his tracks and found him lying beneath the bridge, all broke up and unconscious.”

  Matthew winced. “Did he fall off the bridge or was he pushed off?”

  “I don’t know.” Wyndham pointed at the surgery. “So while I do what you should have done and find out why Elijah headed out of town, sit with Franklin in case he wakes up and talks.”

  “Sure.”

  Matthew moved on, but after a few paces, Wyndham called him back.

  “Take this is as your last warning, Deputy Jennings,” he said. “Start acting like a lawman, or I’ll be giving you a new noon deadline to leave town.”

  Chapter Nine

  “I’ve been told to stay here until Franklin comes to,” Matthew said, opting for a different method after his first dozen attempts to get his father to acknowledge him had failed. “So it might be easier to talk than to stay quiet.”

  A tightening of the skin around his eyes was Granville’s only reaction, but it was enough for Matthew. He’d often been incarcerated with men he hated, and experience told him that persistence always defeated the attempt to punish someone with silence.

  “I have some good news,” Matthew said with an encouraging tone. “Marshal Wyndham says that if you promise to stay here, you don’t have to return to a cell. You’re still under arrest. though.”

  Granville said nothing, so Matthew settled down on the chair beside his father’s bed and waited for Doc Hamilton to emerge. He’d been treating Franklin, with Abigail at his side, when he’d arrived and after thirty minutes, he was still working on him. With nothing else to occupy his mind, he noted that Granville appeared comfortable, although when he moved so that he could stay turned away from him, he did so stiffly.

  “Do you want any help?” Matthew asked, moving forward.

  Granville eyed the unoccupied bed beside him, but then settled for lying on his side facing away from his son.

  “I can remember me doing the same to you when I was ten years old,” Matthew persisted. “I was sick and you wanted me to drink this foul-smelling, putrid concoction. I ignored you, but every time I turned my head away, you followed me. I drank it in the end. Then I threw up. Then I got better.” Matthew laughed. “I still feel sick whenever I see a stinging nettle though.”

  Granville hunched his shoulders higher, but then, as if the accusation that he was acting childishly had hit a nerve, he sat upright on his bed. He still didn’t speak, but Matthew decided to be silent for a while and grant him the dignity of not having to ignore everything he said.

  Presently Doc Hamilton came out of the surgery with Abigail in tow. Matthew’s presence made her turn on her heel to go back into the surgery, leaving Hamilton to face Matthew.

  “It’s too early to say if he’ll live,” Hamilton said. “I’ve splinted his broken bones, but he had a bad knock on the head and that leaves his fate in the hands of a higher power than mine.”

  “I assume he said nothing about who did it?” Matthew waited while Hamilton shook his head and then continued. “Or about what he was doing out at the bridge? Or whether he’d found a clue about where Jimmy had been taken?”

  “He wasn’t conscious enough to say anything intelligible and I can’t answer your questions either. All I know is Wyndham found him lying at the bottom of the bridge and he’s been lucky to survive for this long.”

  Abigail had left the door open and the final comment made her return, her face red and her eyes puffy. She gestured at Matthew.

  “If you’d done your job properly and found Jimmy, he wouldn’t have been out there,” she said, her voice croaking. “He. . . .”

  An uncontrollable sob made her trail off. Matthew didn’t reply, finding that this time he didn’t mind being the butt of her anger if it helped her to cope with her other problems, but to his surprise Granville spoke up.

  “Don’t blame Matthew,” he said levelly. “He’s a jailbird. Unlike Newman, he has no idea how a lawman’s supposed to act, but Wyndham will find your son and your husband will be fine. Their fates are in the hands of people who know what they’re doing.”

  Abigail fought back the tears and nodded to Granville before she shuffled back into the surgery. Anger at his father’s comment rooted Matthew to the spot, but the decision as to whether he should stay was taken away from him when Hamilton took his arm.

  “My patients need calm,” he said. He ushered him outside and Matthew didn’t object. When they were in the corridor and beyond Granville’s hearing, he continued. “I’m sure you can be better employed finding Jimmy.”

  Matthew smiled thinly. “I’m pleased that someone has faith in me.”

  “Wyndham’s a good man. Follow his lead and one day you’ll earn people’s respect. As your father implied, being a lawman is as tough a job as being a doctor.”

  Matthew nodded and, as Hamilton was one of the few people who hadn’t treated him with contempt, when they were outside he turned to him.

  “You’re right,” he said. “I keep being told I need to behave like a lawman, except nobody’s told me what that involves.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Wyndham did, as did your brother.” Hamilton rocked his head from side to side. “Wyndham always asks me plenty of questions.”

  Matthew sighed and waved his arms vaguely while he wondered what Wyndham would ask if he were here.

  “Did Franklin’s injuries give you any ideas about who attacked him?” he asked.

  “No,” Hamilton said.

  The question had sounded a lame one to Matthew’s ears, but Hamilton gave an encouraging smile so he continued.

  “Do you reckon his injuries all came from the fall?”

  Hamilton raised an eyebrow. “That’s a good question. You’re wondering if he knocked his head when he fell or if he was knocked on the head and then fell. Sadly, the answer is, I don’t know.”

  “Him falling off such a high bridge accidentally sounds unlikely. I’ve only been on it once and I stayed away from the edge. . . .” Matthew trailed off as an obvious point hit him. His heart beat faster as he considered the matter in the way he reckoned Wyndham would want him to. “Has anyone ever survived after falling off that bridge?”

  “Not to my knowledge. Two workers fell off when they were building the bridge. One died instantly and the other was swept away never to be seen again. As I said, Franklin was lucky.”

  “Or he didn’t fall off the bridge,” Matthew said, slapping Hamilton’s shoulder and grinning.

  Thirty minutes later, Matthew stood on the railroad tracks before the bridge, as he had done yesterday morning. This time he had no choice but to look over the side at the dizzying scene below.

  The snaking river filled most of the gorge, but on this side the rocky base on which the bridge stanchions rested was wide enough to traverse on foot. Presumably this was where Wyndham had found Franklin and that meant there was a way down.

 

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