Sergeant Gustaffson pointed to a doorway in the dining room. “Lieutenant Holbrook and that fella Nicholson are in a private room over there.” He went to the closed door and knocked, and when there was a muffled response from within, he said, “It’s me, Lieutenant. I’ve got those men you sent me to find.”
Holbrook must have told him to bring them in, because Gustaffson opened the door and gestured for Bo, Scratch, and Chloride to go in.
The lieutenant and Lawrence Nicholson were seated at a table with glasses and a bottle of whiskey in front of them. With his hat off, Holbrook looked even younger, if that was possible. He had sandy hair and a somewhat angular face, and if he had been out of West Point for more than a year, Bo would be shocked.
Holbrook got to his feet and said, “Please, gentlemen, come in.” He gave Gustaffson a curt nod. “That’ll be all, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir,” the non-com said. He had been dismissed, and now he had to go back to his tent and hope that it would keep a little of the frigid wind out. Bo didn’t blame him for being reluctant to leave. All the troopers were in the same situation, though, and there wasn’t a thing Bo or anyone else could do about it.
When Gustaffson was gone, Holbrook motioned toward the empty chairs at the table. “Have a seat. Would any of you like a drink?”
Chloride licked his lips. “I would.”
“Reckon I could do with one, too,” Scratch said.
Bo shook his head and made a gesture indicating that he would pass.
When they were all sitting down, Holbrook said, “Thank you for coming so promptly.”
“Sergeant Gustaffson didn’t leave us much choice in the matter,” Bo said. “He’s a good man.”
Holbrook didn’t seem to hear the compliment. “I’ll get right to the point. Since you men are civilians, I can’t order you to do anything.”
“Not without placing the town under martial law,” Nicholson put in, “which the lieutenant and I have agreed isn’t necessary or advisable at this point.”
“Why don’t you just tell us what you want, Lieutenant?” Bo suggested. “Then we can tell you whether or not we’ll go along with it.”
“Fine. I’d like for you to serve as scouts and help me locate the headquarters of the outlaw band known variously as the Deadwood Devils and the Devils of Deadwood Gulch.” Holbrook inclined his head toward the mine owner. “Mr. Nicholson here tells me that the three of you have had more experience with them than anyone else. Anyone still alive, that is.”
“We’ve tangled with them a few times,” Bo admitted. “We couldn’t identify any of them, though, and we don’t know where they hole up.”
“Still, I need some experienced men to help me in my search. I’ve been charged with bringing them to justice, Mr. Creel, and I intend to do so, no matter what it takes.” Holbrook paused. “I can offer you scout’s wages—”
“Not me,” Chloride said. “I already got a job. I drive for the Golden Queen Minin’ Company, and I’m headed back up to the mine in the mornin’.”
Nicholson smiled thinly. “Mr. Coleman here is a former employee of mine, Lieutenant, and I can tell you that it won’t do any good to argue with him. He’s every bit as stubborn as those mules he drives.”
“I reckon you didn’t mean it as such, but I’ll take that as a compliment, Nicholson,” Chloride replied.
Holbrook didn’t seem bothered by the exchange. He looked at Bo and Scratch and asked, “What about you two? Are you interested in helping to put a stop to the plague of lawlessness in this area?”
“Darn right we are,” Scratch said. “Bo?”
“I reckon we can come to an agreement, Lieutenant,” Bo said. “Chloride is going to be taking the Golden Queen’s wagon back up the gulch to the mine tomorrow. I suggest that you and your troop accompany him as an escort, and Scratch and I will come along, too.”
“A military escort,” Chloride said. “I sorta like the sound of that.”
Holbrook frowned. “I’m not sure it would be proper to be seen as favoring one mine operation over another . . .”
Nicholson waved a hand and said, “Don’t worry about that, Lieutenant. You’ll need to be heading in that direction anyway to begin your search, so I don’t see anything improper in riding that way at the same time as Mr. Coleman is returning in the wagon.”
“Well . . . all right,” Holbrook said with a nod. “If you’re sure.”
“It’s settled, then.” Nicholson sounded pleased. He reached for the bottle. “I think we should have a drink on it.” He splashed whiskey into the empty glasses, then picked up his and went on. “To the end of the Deadwood Devils.”
“To the end of the Deadwood Devils,” Holbrook echoed. Scratch and Chloride didn’t say anything. They just downed their drinks along with Nicholson and the lieutenant.
Bo wished it was that easy to get rid of the outlaws.
But he knew good and well it wouldn’t be.
CHAPTER 16
The next morning dawned very cold but clear, the clouds that brought the snow flurries the day before having moved on. As the sun rose, the wagon with Chloride at the reins rolled out of Deadwood. It didn’t carry any supplies this time, but in the compartment under the seat rode a canvas pouch containing a partial payroll for the miners at the Golden Queen. Martha couldn’t yet afford to pay them everything she owed them, but it was a good start.
The presence of the payroll was another reason for the troopers to accompany the wagon. Bo seriously doubted that even as audacious a bunch of owlhoots as the Deadwood Devils would attack the wagon with a bunch of cavalry troopers riding behind it.
When they stopped at midday, Lieutenant Holbrook came over to Bo and Scratch and asked, “When will we reach the mine?”
“Probably around the middle of the afternoon,” Bo replied. “We can make better time with an empty wagon than with one loaded down with gold.”
Holbrook nodded. “Good. That will give us time to begin our search for the outlaws’ hideout today.”
“You don’t want to spend the night at the mine and start looking in the morning?”
“And waste several hours?” Holbrook shook his head. “I think not.”
Bo and Scratch glanced at each other. Like most young officers, Holbrook was eager to make his mark and get started on his climb up the ranks.
Scratch said, “That’s fine, Lieutenant. Don’t get your hopes up too high, though. This is a smart bunch. They ain’t gonna be easy to find.”
“Well, we won’t find them if we don’t look, will we?” Holbrook said crisply. He walked off before Bo or Scratch could say anything else.
Scratch rubbed his jaw and mused, “We’ve run across shavetails like that one before.”
“Yeah, and they usually wind up in trouble,” Bo said. “We may have our work cut out for us, partner.”
“We usually do,” Scratch said with a smile.
The little caravan arrived at the mine in the middle of the afternoon, as Bo predicted. Andrew Keefer was surprised to see the cavalry, and so were the other men. Holbrook shook hands with the mine superintendent and asked, “Any sign of those outlaws in the past two days?”
Keefer shook his head. “No, but that’s to be expected. They don’t bother the mines themselves. They just hold up anybody who tries to get any gold out over the trail to Deadwood.”
“We’ll soon put a stop to that,” Holbrook promised with a curt nod. He looked at Bo and Scratch. “We’ll rest the horses for a quarter of an hour and then pull out. Do you have a plan as to where we’ll begin the search?”
“I’ve been thinking on it,” Bo said. He turned to Keefer. “Do you have a map of the area in your office?”