Golden Feather Press
EMERALD VALLEY

Author's note:

Sorry for the delay in getting these chapters on the website. Jim and I had to sell our mountain home and we've been scrambling for months to get things completed. Due to the altitude, Jim cannot stay there longer than a couple days even with oxygen.

Please excuse the "Lake-Jake" similarity (below). When I started Emerald Valley, Lake Bolton's name appeared and I never thought of Jake Brady of the Golden Feather series. When Jake Brady and Wiley Deluce decided to enter the story, I couldn't do anything about the names.

CHAPTER 14

At a table in Juanita's Hacienda with an earthenware plate of tamale bits and a half eaten pile of beans in front of him, Wiley looked at Kyle. "It's too bad Jake and I have a job to do. This type of mystery intrigues me. Especially since Mason Coby is involved. He's wanted across the South for murder, theft and fraud."

"Kyle gave Coby his limp," Lake said. He laughed at Kyle's frown.

"Wha' hoffen?" Jake asked through a mouthful of tamale."

Kyle shrugged. "I was at a poker table in Naw'lins. It was my deal. I saw a piggish man take the chair across from me. His swagger hit me wrong." Kyle took a bite of food, then a swig of beer. After a moment, he looked at Wiley. "Caught him cheatin' an' got riled. Shot off his knee cap under the table."

Wiley grimaced, then half-smiled at Kyle. "No wonder he's so mean."

The door of Juanita's slammed opened and a man stomped in. He looked around, then headed toward the table where Kyle and the group were sitting. When he reached them, he stood beside Kyle and shoved his fists on his hips.

"Chase, what do you know about the attack on Woody?"

Kyle grinned at Marshal Hooker. "Must'a been Rory. Woody braced 'im with a shotgun."

"Braced him! Why?"

"Heard he was helping Francine Coby."

"Francine? What was she doing?"

Kyle scooted his chair so he faced the marshal. "I'm only the foreman of Dix Logan's ranch. I don't know everything that goes on here. That's your job. I'm eating with friends. Let me be." Kyle looked straight at Marshal Hooker's crotch and said in a low voice, "Marshal, you need me to suck on your dick." He grinned up at Hooker. "You rub it so much your pants get worn there."

"Chase!" Hooker shouted. "I'll run you in! And I'll damn-well find a reason!" He turned and stomped out the door.

"Does that marshal really rub on his dick?" Jake asked as he watched Hooker storm outside.

Lake grinned at Jake. "You bet. Did you see how his pants are worn where it hangs down his leg?"

"Damn!" Jake looked at Wiley. "I'd like to see him doin' it."

"Jake, we talked about that."

Jake shrugged. "I know, Wiley, but men doin' that makes me wanna jump on 'em." He looked at his plate and cut off another chunk of tamale.

"Jake, you are a man after my own heart," Lake said. "I've always felt the same way. Even while living with Kyle." He chuckled, grabbed Jake's right shoulder and shook it gently. "We can't change the way we feel."

Wiley chuckled and lightly shook his head, then reached toward the center of the table and lifted the cloth covering the still steaming husk-wrapped tamales. He grabbed two more. "These are delicious. I've never eaten them before."

"You need to go to Santa Fe," Kyle said. "I spent three months there last winter." He winked at Lake. "Who knows, you an' I may end up there some day."

Lake snorted. "Depends on you and...Dixie."

"Who's Dixie?" Jake asked. "I thought you was like Wiley'n me." "Dixie, er, I mean, Dix, is Kyle's new iron in the fire. I haven't met him yet." Lake looked at Kyle. "I still say you should hire me and let me nose around."

"Kyle, fill me in on what's been going on," Wiley said. "Maybe we could help on our way back from Utah."

After Kyle filled all of them in on the happenings at Dix's ranch and in town, he looked straight at Jake and Wiley. "Who're the two black men with you? Are they...man friendly?"

Wiley smiled. "They're Eli and his partner Adam. They were Buffalo Soldiers and recently United States Marshals. We asked them to come with us." He chuckled. "I'm sure they're Woody friendly.

Kyle sat back in his chair. "Well, then...I'm sure they're havin' a hell'uva time." He looked over at Lake. "You'll have to have dinner with Woody sometime. Alone. Woody is so desirable." Kyle looked off into space, then suddenly leaned forward and scooted his chair closer to the table.

Lake threw his head back and laughed as he pointed at Kyle. "I've never seen you so rangy!" He laughed again and pulled an imaginary train whistle. "Whoo-whooh! I am so ready for Woody!"

At 8:30 the next morning, Wiley and Jake walked through the door into Marshal Hooker's office. Jake tripped on the top step and lurched into Wiley, shoving him into the room.

"What's going on?" the marshal shouted as he sprang to his feet behind his cluttered desk. His hand hovered above the butt of his gun.

Wiley glanced behind him and smiled at Jake, who had already turned an embarrassed red. After steering Jake beside him, Wiley said, "Marshal, this is Jake Brady and I'm William Deluce. We're Pinkertons tracking two men from Tennessee."

"They've killed people," Jake added.

"They both have heavy Tennessee accents," Wiley told the marshal. "They fled Denver after a robbery." He nodded at Jake, "And they murdered two people in cold blood. They had long beards. From what we've learned, they've kept the beards. We've tracked them this far and think they're heading to Utah. We need information."

Wiley's finesse and firm orders left Marshal Hooker stunned. William Deluce and Jake Brady in his office? But they were at Kyle's table last night!

Suddenly wary, Marshal Hooker said, "I've never seen the two Pinkertons you claim to be, but if you were sitting with Kyle Chase, I have my doubts about your real identity."

Wiley deftly flipped out his badge and held it to the marshal's face much longer than necessary. "I hope that satisfies you." He slipped the badge into his pocket, stood straight and folded his arms. "Whoever Jake and I dine with is our business. Can we stick to my question? Have you seen the men Jake and I are tracking?"

Hooker placed his hands on his desk and shook his head. "Sorry, gents. It's just that Chase bullied his way into this town, and I don't trust him." He looked at Wiley. "The men you describe rode through two days ago. They only stopped for a couple drinks." Hooker shrugged. "They bought supplies and rode west. Didn't cause any trouble." He picked up a stack of wanted posters and held them out. "I don't have one for them, but mail is slow this far west of Denver."

Wiley snatched the posters out of Hooker's hand and rummaged through them. He pulled one out, dumped the others on the desk and showed the poster to Jake. "This one shows the two men. It even has their names." He looked at Marshal Hooker and said slowly, "Klimp and Lester McKay." Wiley pointed to the lower right of the poster. "Look, Jake, it has a coffee cup stain here. That means the poster was in plain sight on the marshal's desk for at least one morning." He tossed the poster to the marshal's desk. "It seems to me you're so obsessed with Kyle Chase, you're forgetting about anything else!" Wiley put his hand on Jake's shoulder. "Let's go." As they left, Wiley turned back to the marshal. "Kyle Chase is a decent, law-abiding man. He may have your job soon."

Jake snuck another look at the rubbed spot on the marshal's crotch. He also noticed the lawman holding up the coffee-stained poster and rubbing the back of his neck.

Out in the street, Jake caught up to Wiley. "Wiley, I think that marshal is worried by what you said."

"I hope so!" Wiley snapped. "It's men like him that make it hard to bring law and order to the West. He's infatuated with Kyle and shouts the opposite. His mind is so consumed with lust and trickery, he thinks of nothing else."

As the two men nodded at passers-by, Jake asked, "Where we goin' now?"

Without breaking his stride, Wiley said, "Klimp and Lester had a few drinks. Let's check the bartender at the Nugget. Then, we'll talk to the owner of the general store."

Wiley entered the Nugget Saloon first. The few patrons who looked at the door noticed how Wiley's muscular chest pushed out his shirt. His short black hair and beard contrasted with the curly black hair on his chest. As Jake hesitantly followed, some nudged others to look. As big as Wiley with reddish-blond hair and a darker beard, Jake's shirt was unbuttoned to his navel. His smooth muscular chest made one man gasp.

As the bartender approached them, Wiley ordered two beers.

"Casually look around, Jake," Wiley whispered. "Check out the place. This is training. Memorize every man, where he is, what he looks like, what he's doing."

Jake spun around and faced the room.

Wiley lowered his head, shook it slowly, then whispered, "Jake, casually means slowly."

"Haw, haw, haw," laughed a potbellied man with a full white beard and moustache. He rose from his chair, walked across the bar and approached Jake. He held out his right hand and grasped Jake's shoulder with the other.

"Jake Brady! So good to see you, lad!" The man nudged Wiley and in a low voice said, "I see you're still training Jake." He laughed when Wiley turned and squinted as though angry, then smiled.

"It's good to see you lads," the man said. "What're you doing in Grand Junction?"

"Mr. Fritzer...eld" Jake stammered. He eagerly shook the elderly man's hand. "What're you doin' here, too?"

"It's Fitz-gerald, lad," the man said. "I told you to call me Fritz last time we had dinner."

Seeing the bartender approach and set the drinks down in front of Wiley, Fritz grabbed Jake's beer, handed it to him, winked at Wiley and forcibly led Jake to his table. When they were seated, he leaned toward Jake. "While Wiley pumps the bartender, tell me what you lads are up to."

Wiley leaned over the bar and flipped his badge to the heavyset bartender. "I'm William Deluce. I'm a Pinkerton."

"William Deluce?" the bartender gasped. "Here?" The man leaned over the bar. "I'm an honest gent. What do you want to know?"

Wiley smiled. "Thanks. I need to know if two men with heavy Tennessee accents and long beards had drinks in here."

"Sure did. Two days ago. I told Rose they looked suspicious."

"Did either of them say anything?" Wiley asked. "Anything you can tell me could help."

The bartender grinned and held out his hand. "I'm Monty." After Wiley shook, Monty leaned closer and said, "Those men both ordered four shots of rotgut whisky. Didn't speak to anyone, just whispered to each other." Proud of his information, Monty half grinned, pulled back and poured a pitcher of water over soapy glassware. He raised an eyebrow toward Wiley. "The older one with the gray beard looked over the place...in a disinterested way, then whispered to the other one. They left soon after." Monty picked up a glass, dumped out the water and started wiping it. He shrugged. "That's all I know."

"Do you have any idea where they were headed?" Wiley asked. "Did you hear the name of a town?"

Monty glanced at the ceiling, then said, "Moab?" He set the polished glass on a towel. "I heard that town whispered when I passed by them once."

Wiley grinned and flipped Monty a twenty-dollar gold eagle.

Out in the street, Jake grabbed Wiley's arm. "It was nice seein' Mr. Fist...."

"Fritz," Wiley said. "It is good to see him again. I'm glad we're having dinner with him tonight." Wiley shrugged. "We really can't afford to spend another night here, but I think I know where Klimp and Lester are headed."

As they entered Mercantile General Store, Wiley approached a portly gray-haired man sweeping the floor. He sported a bushy beard, and his filthy apron covered a frayed white cotton shirt and black pants.

"Are you the proprietor?" Wiley asked.

The man stopped his broom and smiled. "John Moore at your service. How can I help you?"

Wiley flipped out his badge, then slipped it into his pocket. He gestured to Jake. "Mr. Moore, this is Jake Brady and I'm William Deluce. We're Pinkertons, and we're tracking some men. We heard they bought supplies here."

John brightened. "I'm delighted to meet you both. I've heard a lot about you. You must be talking about those gents with the long beards and heavy Tennessee accents."

"You sure are right!" Jake shouted.

Moore smiled at Jake, then looked at Wiley. "They were in here two days ago. Right off, I felt something odd about them. They bought supplies for a couple weeks. Bacon, jerky, flour...you know, for travel by horse. I wondered why they were riding horseback clear to Moab when the train takes them most of the way."

"They mentioned Moab?" Wiley asked.

"The younger one did and got punched in the back by the other one."

Back in the street, Jake grabbed Wiley's arm. "Hell, Wiley, if we keep givin' all these people money, we ain't gonna have none left for us."

Wiley laughed. "Jake, they gave us valuable information. We'll have enough money. Don't you remember? The Pinkerton office in Denver wired us another $500 this morning."

"Hell, I thought that message from McParland was more orders."