Hays, Kansas. September 20, 1870.
With the Union Pacific railroad coming through Hays, there were many cafes, hotels, and boardinghouses. After leaving her horse at a nearby livery, Danielle took a room on the first floor of one of the hotels. There was already a foot of snow on the ground, and a man from the restaurant was shoveling a path to the hotel. Danielle decided to go ahead and eat before the storm became more intense. In the cafe sat a man she had seen in the hotel lobby. He wore at least a three-day beard and a pair of tied-down Colts, and he eyed Danielle as he had in the hotel lobby. He left the cafe before Danielle finished her meal. When she left, darkness had fallen, and the swirling snow blinded her. There was a sudden muzzle flash in the whiteout, and quickly returning the fire, Danielle dropped to her knees, unhurt. She heard the unmistakable sound of a body thudding to the ground. She waited to see if anyone had been drawn by the shooting, although she was unable to see the front of the cafe or the hotel. Minutes passed and nobody appeared. She approached the inert form and saw that it was the man from the cafe, his intense eyes now rolled back. Searching the dead man quickly, Danielle found only a worn wallet. She placed it in the pocket of her Levi’s and hurried on to the hotel. She found a fire had already been started in the stove in her room, and that it was comfortably warm. Locking the door, she lighted a lamp and sat down on the bed to find out whom she had killed. The dead man’s wallet contained no identification. There was a hundred dollars, however, and she took it. From the man’s behavior, she was virtually certain he was on the dodge, but why had he come after her? She was leaving yet another dead man along her back-trail, without the slightest idea why he had tried to kill her. She added more chunks of wood to the already glowing stove and prepared for bed. She thought of the many nights she had slept in her clothes and, despite the risk, stripped them all off. She had worn the binder around her chest so tight, her ribs were sore, and she sighed in blessed relief when she was without the bothersome binder. When she lay down for the night, the howling wind whipped snow against the window, and she was doubly thankful for a soft bed and a warm room.
When Danielle awakened next morning, the fire in the stove had apparently gone out, for the room was cold. She lay there dreading to get up. Finally wrapping a blanket about herself, she got up and looked out the window. There was an unbroken expanse of snow, and it was still falling. Some buildings had drifts all the way up to the windowsills. The room was colder than Danielle had imagined, and hurrying back to the bed, she lay there shivering. Unanswered questions still galloped through her mind. Who was the gunman she had been forced to shoot, and why had he tried to kill her? An obvious answer was that he was probably an outlaw who feared being followed by a lawman. But Danielle had said or done nothing to lead the stranger to suspect she represented the law. It would be to her advantage to leave town before the melting snow revealed the dead man, but she dared not attempt it with snow up to a horse’s belly. She considered the possible ways the law might connect her to the killing, and decided there was only one. While she had been in the cafe, the man had scarcely taken his eyes off her. There had been others in the cafe, including several cooks. Had any of them noticed the dead man’s interest in the stranger with a tied-down Colt?
Resuming her identity as a man, Danielle donned the sheep-skin-lined coat and gloves she had bought in Abilene. She then left the hotel for the cafe. She was dismayed when she discovered the only other person in the cafe wore a lawman’s star. One of the cooks spoke to the sheriff, and he stood up, coming toward Danielle’s table.
“I’m Sheriff Edelman,” said the lawman. “Yester day, there was a killer in town name of Gib Hunter, wanted in Texas, Missouri, and Kansas. When he left the cafe, he never went back to his hotel room. His horse is still at the livery. Do you know anything about him?”
“Only what you’ve just told me,” Danielle said. “I’m Dan Strange, from St. Joe, and I got caught in this blizzard on my way west. Why would you expect me to know anything about this Gib Hunter?”
“I’ve been told Hunter had his eyes on you last night, after you came in for supper,” said the lawman. “Since I have no other clues, I thought there might be a connection.”
“I saw him watching me,” Danielle said, “and I can’t imagine why, unless he mistook me for somebody else. He left the cafe ahead of me, and I went straight to the hotel.”
“Snowin’ like it was, a man with killing on his mind could stage one hell of an ambush, couldn’t he?”
Chapter 6
Sheriff Edelman’s question took Danielle by surprise, and she recovered as quickly as she could.
“I’m not a bounty hunter, sheriff, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Glad to hear it,” Edelman said, “and the possibility had crossed my mind. All over the frontier, there are men who are man-hunters. They make their living hunting down wanted men with prices on their heads. Texas is willing to pay a thousand dollars for Gib Hunter, dead or alive.”
“From what you’ve told me,” said Danielle, “Hunter had been here several days. If you recognized him, why didn’t you arrest him then?”
“I wanted to be sure,” Sheriff Edelman said, “so I sent telegrams to authorities in Texas, Kansas, and Missouri. It took a while to get answers.”
“Maybe one of the bounty hunters got him,” said Danielle.
“I doubt it,” Sheriff Edelman said. “He was in the cafe last night, and even then, snow was up to a sow’s ear. Something happened to him after he left the cafe and before he reached the hotel. His bed hasn’t been slept in.”
“So I’m a suspect,” said Danielle.
“Frankly, yes,” Sheriff Edelman said. “It has all the earmarks of a bounty killing. You and Gib Hunter were the only strangers in town. Maybe you ain’t a bounty hunter, but this owlhoot had no way of knowin’ that. It could have well been his reason for watching you in the cafe, and reason enough for him to use the storm as cover, bushwhacking you when you left.”
“Well, he’s gone,” said Danielle. “Can’t you be satisfied with that?”
“It ain’t that easy for a lawman,” Sheriff Edelman said. “Wanted men are unpredictable. You never know when they’re goin’ to get suspicious, like Hunter was last night, and it’s damn near impossible to prove one of ’em’s dead if you can’t produce a body. Come on, kid, tell me what happened after you left the cafe last night.”
Danielle sighed. She had fired in self-defense, and Hunter’s Colt would prove it. There seemed little doubt that Sheriff Edelman would not stop short of hearing the truth of it. It was time for a decision, and Danielle made it.
“All right, Sheriff,” said Danielle. “When I left the cafe, it was snowing so hard that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. Somebody fired at me, and even through the swirling snow, I could see the muzzle flash, so I returned fire. You’ll find him there just a few feet from the western wall of the hotel. I’d never seen the man until last night, and I’m claiming self-defense.”
“I won’t dispute that,” Sheriff Edelman said. “I just need to find him so we can close the book. There’ll be an inquest in the morning, and you’ll have to testify. But with deep snow and maybe more comin’, you can’t go anywhere. Besides, soon as I can verify that Hunter’s dead, the state of Texas will owe you a thousand dollars.”
“I told you I’m no bounty hunter,” said Danielle, “and I don’t want any reward. All I did was defend myself. Claim the reward in my name, and then see that it goes to a needy cause, such as an orphanage or church.”