“You think he has a partner?”
“Why’s that?”
Ike explained how the robbery had happened and why Buchanan had been so anxious to jump from the train at a precise point along the tracks. “Somebody left a horse for him. Can’t rightly say why his partner didn’t stick around and ride off with him.” Ike considered the matter. “If they had, I’d be the one drawing flies. Two against one’s not good odds when you’re on foot out in that desert.”
“A real man killer, that heat,” the marshal allowed. “If you don’t know where the watering holes are, it’s close to a death sentence.” He shook his head. “That’s why the soldiers have such a hard time tracking down them Apaches. The Indians know where every spring is. They’re never going dry too long, and if the boys in those blue wool uniforms try drinking from the springs, more ’n likely they fall into an ambush.”
“You know who his partner is, don’t you? Does he have a price on his head, too?”
“You looking to be ambitious and claim a second reward, Mister? That’s mighty greedy.”
Ike waited. The marshal sighed and shook his head.
“Truth is, Mary Ellen probably staked out the horse for him. Her and Buchanan were one hellacious pair, believe me. Which of ’em is more dangerous, well, now, that’s something to argue over around a campfire.”
“She’s in town?”
“She works over at the Rancher’s Rest Saloon. Can you prove she had any part in the robbery?”
“That’s something for you to decide, isn’t it, Marshal? You’re the law in town.” Ike grabbed a handful of coat and pulled. Lester Buchanan fell to the ground with a squishy sound.
“She’s popular here in town, and suspicion’s not good enough. I chased him out of town. Oh, don’t go getting all het up now. The reward’s only twenty-five dollars. Buchanan wasn’t good at much of anything, and that included breaking the law.”
The marshal turned his back on the body and went into the jailhouse. Ike couldn’t help comparing it with Granger’s, back in San Antonio. This was a simple adobe building. The best thing about it was how cool it was inside. Two cages made from iron straps riveted together secured the cells. The marshal had a desk under a rack of two rifles and a shotgun, held in place by a lock and chain. Ike resisted the temptation of yanking on the chain just to see if the entire rack would come tumbling down. Mounting anything on a crumbling adobe wall spelled trouble somewhere down the line when it pulled loose and fell. From this simple arsenal, he decided not much illegal went on in Eagle Pass, or at least not much that the marshal concerned himself with.
“Here he is. That the varmint?” The marshal shoved a poster across his desk.
Ike shrugged. The smeary drawing looked nothing like Lester Buchanan. Depending on that picture to identify the train robber was a fool’s errand.
“It’s him,” the lawman said. “I had the poster made up right here in town. Charlie over at the Eagle Pass Dispatch isn’t much of a printer. Fact is,” he said, looking askance at the poster, “he’s not much of an artist, either. You shoulda seen how he illustrated the story about Macomber’s two-headed calf.”
He fished around in the center drawer of his desk and took out a sheet of paper. With quick, sure scratches, occasionally dipping his pen in an ink bottle, the marshal produced a document proclaiming that the bearer was entitled to the reward.
“Take this on over to the bank when it opens in the morning.” He shoved it across the desk. “Banker Jarvis has enough money in the town account to pay you, unless he’s gone on a bender again. He can drink up twenty-five dollars in whiskey so fast it’d make your head spin.” The marshal chuckled. “It surely does make his spin like a top.”
Ike stared at the simple IOU. A week or two back he would have killed for so much money. It didn’t come close to paying off his debt in Houston, but it was more than enough to keep him alive for a month.
“What’s wrong? You don’t read?”
“I can read.” Ike felt an ornery streak. “I don’t think my boss’d like it if I claimed a reward.”
“Now, why’s that?” The marshal squinted at him, wondering if he had been out in the sun too long. Money was money.
Ike silently took out the wallet with the brass badge. He opened it so the marshal got a good look.
“You’re a ways out of your jurisdiction. You coming this way to confer with Judge Bean?”
“I have another job to do. For Judge Parker.”
“Do tell. All the way here? West Texas is a far piece from Arkansas. And Indian Territory.”
Ike fished around in his pocket and pulled out the cloth bag. He dropped it on the desk.
“This is the loot Buchanan stole. There’s a ruby necklace in there the lady will want to get back. She said it was a family heirloom.”
The lawman took out the necklace and held it up, letting the ruby pendant spin slowly. He tucked it back into the bag and poked through the rest of the contents.
“You can telegraph up the line and see if any of the passengers can be told their belongings are back here.” Ike felt a pang. Having Lily see him return the booty would have been nice, but the idea of losing himself across the border was a more sensible road to travel.
“Back here? What do you mean, Deputy? The train’s not come in yet.”
Ike stood straighter and stared in disbelief.
“But I was out in the desert most of the day. How’s that possible?”
“Can’t rightly say, but there hasn’t been a train from San Antonio through in two days. Maybe the engine broke down or they had to deal with a section of faulty rails. The line’s newly laid, you know. Or maybe you don’t, being from Indian Territory and all.”
Before Ike could say a word, an earsplitting whistle cut through the quiet twilight. On the heels of the whistle came the screech of steel wheels grinding against railroad tracks.
“That’ll be the train,” the lawman said. “I’m in luck.” He scooped up the cloth bag and started for the door. He paused and looked back at Ike. “You rooted to the ground? Come along.”
“The horse,” Ike said, befuddled. “Buchanan’s horse. If that’s the train I can get back on and won’t need it.”
“I’ll sell it to give the mangy cayuse a decent burial. The potter’s field is purty near full, so you’d be doing Eagle Pass a favor with your charity. Are you coming?” He pointed out the door.
Ike hurried to keep up with the man’s bandy legs. They might be short and bowed, but they moved fast. Before he got to the depot, he saw the plume of smoke boiling upward into the night sky. The smell of hot metal and soot had never been sweeter for him.
He took the steps up to the platform two at a time. The marshal was already talking to the station agent. When the conductor jumped off and ran to the pair, the lawman held up his hand to stop the torrent of explanation. The marshal waved Ike to join them.
“This here’s the reason I have this,” the lawman said, holding up the cloth bag. “You have a lady aboard who lost this bauble to the robber?” He let the ruby pendant swing to and fro.
Ike cringed at the shrill squeal of joy coming from the direction of the train. The woman saw her jewelry and pushed others out of the way to get to the marshal. She took it, examined it and then planted a big wet juicy kiss on his stubbled cheek.
“Now, little lady, that’s plenty reward, but I didn’t do anything to retrieve your stolen jewelry. This gent here’s a deputy Federal marshal. Come on over. Maybe she’ll plant one on you, too.”
“You!” The woman shrieked again and rushed to him. “I knew you’d track that scoundrel down and bring him to justice.” She kissed Ike, too, to his embarrassment since the passengers were leaning out the train windows and watching, wondering what was going on.