Savage Sunday, page 9
Hawkins took the cowboy’s clothes, then dressed the cowboy in his clothes. Taking the money—a little over five hundred dollars—from the case, he walked the rest of the way to Yuma, where he boarded the train for Phoenix.
Arriving there, he took a hotel room using the name Bart Jenkins as his new name. He got the name from two businesses he had seen on the street—Bart Ebersole Hardware and Joseph Jenkins Apothecary.
Three days later, Bart Jenkins, as he thought of himself, read the headlines in the Phoenix Herald.
CACTUS NEEDLE COACH ROBBED
Driver, Shotgun Messenger, Two Passengers Slain
The story went on to give the names of the driver, Merlin Proffer, the shotgun guard, Will Hawkins, and two passengers—Wendel Hayes and Clyde Driscoll, both salesmen. The third passenger, Frank Emerson, a cowboy, was missing, and believed to be the culprit.
Bart smiled when he read the story. He had gotten away with the money and nobody was looking for him because he was dead. They were looking for Frank Emerson.
Not too long after that, Bart met Lou Martell in the Sundown Saloon in Flagstaff. The two men hit it off, and over the next few months robbed isolated grocery stores and trading posts. After killing a sheriff and his deputy, Bart and Martell split up.
* * *
Meeting him in the Sundown Saloon in Hillsdale, so far from where they’d met, and so long after they had parted, was quite a surprise to him.
Cheyenne
For Duff and Meagan, the day proved to be as busy as the previous one. Meagan did more shopping to buy some additional items for her store. Duff went with her, not wishing to spend another day trying to make conversation with the other cattlemen who were habitués of the club.
“I think I’ll buy something for Elmer and Wang,” Duff said.
“Yes, good idea. I’ll get something for Vi and Mae Lin,” Meagan offered.
It didn’t take him long to complete his shopping. He looked for, and found, the silver hatband Elmer had requested, then he bought a pair of gloves for each of them. The selection was easy. Anyone working on a ranch always needed a good pair of leather gloves.
Meagan spent the rest of the day looking for something for Vi and Mae Lin. She wanted to get them something nice, but also unique. She got a gemstone facial roller for Mae Win, who had, Meagan thought, beautiful, blemish-free skin. The clerk assured Meagan that a regimen of using these gemstone facial rollers would keep her skin beautiful.
Vi was a little more difficult to choose for. Meagan finally settled on something called a split-decision pie pan, which would allow Vi to bake two pies on the same pan. They would be perfect for Vi’s Pies, and Meagan actually bought four of them.
That night they had dinner at the Cheyenne Cattleman’s Club, then attended an opera at McDaniel’s Theater.
After a long and busy day, they welcomed the bed that night, and though they had two rooms, they used only one.
* * *
The next morning Joel Prescott kissed his wife good-bye, then walked out to step into the cab which, by arrangement, was there to pick him up at eight o’clock every weekday morning.
“Good morning, Mr. Prescott,” Leo Kelly, the driver said.
“Good morning, Mr. Kelly. I hope you had a good night,” Prescott replied.
“Yes, sir, I did. Thank you.” Kelly snapped the reins against the horse to put the cab in motion.
Prescott waved and called out to pedestrians as the cab passed over the cobblestoned Seventeenth Street, the horse’s hooves making a hollow clopping sound.
He thought about his position in the bank. His opting to leave the army had been a wise decision. A captain lived fairly well in an army environment, but as president and principal stockholder of the Cattlemen’s Bank of Cheyenne, he was giving Nettie a much more fulfilling life than she had ever known during her association with the army.
The cab stopped in front of the bank, and Prescott climbed down.
“I’ll be here at four o’clock this afternoon to take you back home,” the cabdriver said.
“Thank you, Mister Kelly.”
When Prescott started to put his key in the front door, he was surprised to see that it was already unlocked. He figured Eli must have arrived earlier than normal, and though Prescott had told him to never leave the door unlocked when it wasn’t business hours, Eli had done so more than once.
“Eli?” he called as he stepped inside and locked the door behind him. “Eli, I’ve told you to keep the door locked if we aren’t open.”
Prescott got no answer.
“Eli, are you here?”
He still got no answer, and that was even worse. Not only was the bank unlocked, it was unlocked with nobody there.
Prescott went into his office and sat, waiting from Eli to arrive. Something bothered him. As he thought about the accounts being moved, which had the effect of leaving the bank completely out of funds, he wondered how he would be able to face his customers. He wished Eli was there. Eli had been his closest friend for quite some time. Joel would share some of his concerns with him. But Joel was alone, and having to deal with acute depression.
It was normal for Prescott and Kendrick to arrive at 8 A.M., which was one hour before the bank opened, but when Kendrick arrived it was fifteen minutes past eight.
“Joel?” he called. “Joel, I’m sorry I’m a little late, but I had some personal business to take care of. Do you have anything you want—” He stopped midsentence. He had just stepped into the president’s office and saw Joel’s body lying on the floor.
Blood had pooled onto the floor from the head wound. Kendrick didn’t have to make a further check; he knew that the bank president was dead.
Hurrying to the front door, he opened it and called out to the first passerby he saw. “Please, go to the police station as quickly as you can and tell Chief Peach that Mr. Prescott has been killed.”
“Prescott? Ain’t he the bank president?”
“Yes, please, hurry.”
Kendrick paced back and forth in the main room of the bank, waiting for the police to arrive. A couple of times he went back into Prescott’s office to have another look at him.
He had left the front door unlocked, and hearing it open, he hurried to the front of the bank.
“Kendrick, what’s this I hear about Mr. Prescott being killed?” Chief Peach asked. Lieutenant Kirby was with him.
“It’s true, Chief. He’s in his office, dead.”
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. I was about fifteen minutes late this morning, and when I went in to Joel’s office to explain my absence, I found him like, well, come into his office with me and see for yourself.”
Kendrick led the two police officers into Joel’s office and pointed to the body on the floor. “I found him like this.”
Chief Harold Peach knelt down for a closer examination and saw a piece of paper sticking out from beneath Joel Prescott’s body. He pulled it out, then looked up at Kendrick. “Did you know this note was here?”
Kendrick shook his head. “No, sir, Chief. I didn’t know anything about it. I was so upset that I didn’t stay in here very long.”
Harold Peach read the note, then shook his head. “I’ll be damned.”
* * *
Lonesome John was currying a horse in the livery barn when two men who stabled their horses permanently with Abney came to get their horses. They didn’t need John to get their horses for them.
“Can you believe it?” one of the men said. “I had a hunnert ’n ten dollars there, ’n now it’s all gone.”
“Yeah, I lost near a hunnert my ownself, ’n folks all over town has lost money. Some of the businessmen have lost five, ten, maybe even fifteen thousand dollars.”
“It’s goin’ to take awhile for the town to recover from all that.”
“What I don’t understand is why he took all that money, then kilt hisself.”
“Who knows? He always was sort of a strange man in my book.”
The other man laughed. “Hell, Adam, Joel Prescott was rich. All rich folks is kinda strange.”
“What are you two men talking about?” John asked.
“You mean you ain’t heard? That banker feller, Joel Prescott stoled all the money from the bank, then shot hisself.”
“Joel is dead?” John asked, shocked by the news.
“Deader ’n a doornail,” one of the two men replied with a chuckle.
They had their horses saddled and rode off, leaving behind a distraught Lonesome John.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then stepped over to one of the stall walls and stood there for a long moment. What the two who had just left didn’t realize was that Lonesome John, the stable hand, and Joel Prescott, the wealthy banker, were very good friends. John felt the loss deeply.
He closed his eyes, and he was at Sportsman’s Park in St. Louis, attending a Brown Stockings baseball game. The batter popped up the pitch, and it came backward, into the stands.
Joel reached and caught the ball, snatching it out of the air with one hand. “Did you see that?” he asked, proud of his move.
“George McManus was watching,” John teased, talking about the manager of the baseball team. “I think he wants to sign you up to play for him.”
Four years after that happy event, the man known in Cheyenne as Lonesome John stood against the wall lamenting the death of the only friend he had in town. Those who gave him the news intimated that Joel had committed suicide. You never know what’s in a person’s soul, but John couldn’t make himself believe that Joel Prescott took his own life.
Chapter Thirteen
With all of their business in Cheyenne completed, Duff and Meagan were at the depot waiting for the train that would take them back to Chugwater. Meagan was chatting about seeing Macbeth and the opera Aida, as well as their chance meeting with Edwin Booth.
“I can’t wait to tell Vi and all my friends,” she said. “Why, they will be just pea green with envy that we actually shared a table with a famous actor like Edwin Booth. And of course, with all the material I got, I’m going to be very busy designing new—” Meagan stopped in midsentence.
“Oh, Duff, listen,” she said in awestruck voice.
“What is it, Meagan?”
“One of those men just said that Mr. Prescott was dead.”
Duff stepped over to the two men who were carrying on the conversation. “Please forgive the interruption, gentlemen, but did you just say that Joel Prescott is dead?”
“Yes, he took all the money from the bank, then kilt hisself.”
“Why would he kill himself if he took all the money?” Duff asked.
“Hell, who knows why that crazy man done what he done?”
“What is it?” Meagan asked when Duff returned to where she was waiting for him. “What happened?”
“Those men just said that Joel embezzled all the money from the bank, then took his own life. I have to go to the bank to see what this is all about.”
“We’ll both go,” Meagan said.
“There’s nae need for you to be going.”
“I’m going with you,” Meagan said resolutely.
“All right,” Duff agreed, without offering any further argument.
They walked down to the bank, where they found it crowded with depositors anxious to find out what happened to their money.
One of the men was jerking on the locked door. “Open up!” he shouted. “Open the damn door to this bank! You got no right to keep it closed.” He jerked on the door again. “Open this door, or we’ll kick it down!”
“Every cent I’ve got ’n the world is in that bank,” said one of the other anxious depositors. “I have bills to pay and a payroll to meet.”
“Where is our money? What happened to it?” another angry depositor shouted.
They weren’t the only ones expressing their anger and concern. At least two dozen more were all shouting at the same time.
“Open the damn door!”
Eli Kendrick stepped out of the bank and held his hands up. “People, I know you are all upset, but please be quiet and let me speak to you.” He spoke loudly enough to be heard.
“Who the hell are you, mister?” asked one the men in the angry crowd.
“I’m Eli Kendrick, the vice president of this bank.” He paused for a moment then added, “Although technically, I suppose I would be the president, now that poor Mr. Prescott is gone.”
“What the hell happened to our money, Kendrick?” someone yelled angrily. “Did Prescott steal all the money, then commit suicide?”
“People, please, just be patient for a while and give us time to deal with this.”
“You don’t need to deal with this. You need to deal with us!” somebody shouted. “You give us our money now, or we’re going to tear you apart, limb from limb!”
“Gentlemen, I’m for thinking you dinnae want to do such a thing,” Duff called out, stepping up to the front of the crowd just before it got out of hand.
“Who the hell are you?” someone called.
“My name is Duff MacCallister, and like all of you, I have money in this bank.” He paused for a moment. “That is, I did have money in this bank.”
“I would like to point out to the rest of you that Mr. MacCallister has more money in this bank than any other depositor,” Kendrick said.
“If you got that much money in here, what are you doing protecting Kendrick?” someone called out.
“Attacking Mr. Kendrick will nae solve anything. Leave the man be so he can go about his business of findin’ out what happened to our money.”
Reluctantly, but with no other choice, the crowd of angry depositors dispersed. That left only Duff, Meagan, and Kendrick.
“Thank you, Mr. MacCallister, for defusing what could have become a most explosive situation,” Kendrick said. “I appreciate you coming to my defense. At least you understand that I’m as much in the dark here as anyone else. And seeing as you are one of our largest depositors, perhaps I owe you a little more. Please, come in and we’ll talk about it.”
When Duff and Meagan stepped into the bank, they saw Harold Peach, chief of the Cheyenne Police Department.
“Mr. MacCallister,” Chief Peach said, “what are you doing here?”
“Chief, Mr. MacCallister is one of our largest depositors. If we can satisfy him as to what happened, that might help with the others.”
“All right,” Chief Peach said. “What can we do for you, Mr. MacCallister?”
“I understand that you think he shot himself?”
“There’s no thinking to it. That’s exactly what he done,” Chief Peach said.
“Mr. Kendrick, did Joel keep a gun in the bank?”
“Yes, he was quite proud of the fact that he was a graduate of West Point and was a captain when he left the army. He was quite proficient in the use of pistols.”
“What kind of pistol was it?” Duff asked.
“It was a Colt model pistol. A .45 millimeter and it is standard issue in the army. Prescott must have brought it with him. No doubt it’s the same one he carried when he was in the army. ’N that’s the one he used to kill hisself.”
“How do you know he committed suicide?”
“He told us he committed suicide,” Peach said.
“What?” Duff asked.
“He left a note,” Chief Peach explained.
“I wonder if you would you be for letting me see the note?”
“The note is part of a police investigation. Why should I let you see it?”
“Chief Peach, Mr. MacCallister and Joel were good friends,” Kendrick said. “I don’t see what harm it would do to let him see the note.”
“All right. It’s down at the police station. Come along with me ’n I’ll show it to you. Would you like to come along with us, Kendrick?” Chief Peach asked.
“No, I . . . uh that is, I would like to come with you, but I feel that it is incumbent upon me, not only as Joel’s business partner, but also as his very good friend, to call upon Mrs. Prescott. She has no family here, no one to comfort her. I’m sure she would like to hear a sympathetic voice.”
“All right, yes, I think that would be a very good idea,” Peach said. “Just because that worthless husband of hers turned out to be such a crook, there’s no need for us to take it out on her. I’ve always thought of her as a very gracious lady. Yes, by all means, drop by and see her.”
Duff and Meagan walked with Chief Peach down to the police station. Unlike the sheriffs’ and city marshals’ offices Duff was used to, the police station was considerably larger and there were half a dozen desks, a couple of which had policemen sitting behind them.
“Lieutenant Kirby,” Chief Peach called when they stepped into the station.
“Yes, Chief?” Kirby was a big man, over six feet tall and weighing over 200 pounds. His head was completely bald and somewhat bullet shaped. His thick neck and bullish shoulders gave him the appearance of having been carved from one solid block of granite.
“Get the suicide note Prescott left, then bring it into my office so we can show it to MacCallister.”
“Why do you think we should do that, Chief? I mean being as how this is an ongoing investigation.”
“Just show him the note, Dan. Don’t make this more difficult than it already is.”
“Yes, sir.”
Duff and Meagan followed Peach into his office, where he took off his hat, then sat in the cushioned chair behind his desk, settling down with a long, self-suffering sigh. “It’s been a busy morning. Sit, sit,” he offered pointing to two more chairs in the relatively large office.
Meagan sat, but Duff remained standing. A moment later Kirby came into the chief’s office and handed a piece of paper to Duff. As he perused the note, he held it in such a way that he and Meagan could read both read it at the same time.
I embezzled all the money, and lost it in bad investments. I have failed those who put their trust in me. I cannot face all the people I have betrayed. Please forgive me.—Joel Prescott
Duff handed the note back to Kirby. “Chief, I thank you for taking us into your confidence.”
