“True,” Danielle said, “but at least I’d know that they’re likely not in Kansas. Since I learned nothing in Waco, I’m really not sure where to go from here. I’m thinking of going directly to the Kansas-Pacific and asking them if any of the men on my list are involved with the railroad.”
“Maybe we’ll go with you,” said Burris.
“No,” Danielle said. “Some folks frown on bounty hunting, and that might interfere with my learning anything. If I learn something you can use, I’ll pass it on.”
“Then why don’t we ride to Kansas City in the morning?” Herb suggested. “I doubt we’ll learn anything more here.”
Kansas City, Kansas. November 10, 1870.
The trio reached Kansas City in the late afternoon. There was the shriek of a whistle and the clanging of a bell as a train pulled out for the end-of-track.
“Let’s find a hotel and get the horses stabled,” Danielle said. “Then I’ll see what I can learn from the railroad.”
The town was large and growing, evidence enough of the prosperity that followed the coming of the rails. Danielle and her companions took rooms in one of the hotels not far from the railroad yard. It was close enough for Danielle to walk, and she did. Railroad offices were housed in a larger building that was also the terminal, and Danielle went in. A little man with spectacles looked up from the telegraph instrument on the table before him.
“I’m looking for someone who might be working for the railroad,” Danielle said. “Who do I need to talk to about him?”
“Alan Steele,” said the telegrapher. “He’s personnel manager, but he’s gone for the day. Nobody here but me.”
Danielle sighed. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
Slowly, she walked back to the hotel, her spirits at a low ebb. It was becoming more and more difficult to live up to her vow to find the men who had hanged her father. Herb and Jesse were eagerly awaiting her return.
“All I learned,” said Danielle, “is that I’ll have to talk to the personnel director, and he’s gone for the day.”
“Some bounty hunters we are,” Burris said. “We spend all our time waitin’ for something or somebody, and now we’re ridin’ your shirttail, hoping you’ll lead us to hombres we can’t seem to find on our own.”
“Hell, I’m about ready to ride into Indian Territory and join a bunch of outlaws,” said Sellers. “There must be plenty of them with prices on their heads.”
“I don’t recommend that,” Danielle said. “I’ve tried that, and if they take you in, you’ll have to take part in whatever they’re doing. You could end up on the wrong side of the law, with prices on your heads.”
“I haven’t put that much thought into it,” said Sellers, “but I reckon you’re right. I’m just not sure I’m cut out for bounty hunting. It all seemed so easy. You take a varmint in and collect the bounty. Trouble is, I never shot at a man in my life, and I wonder if I actually could. I doubt that any man with a price on his head will surrender, and that means he’ll have to be brought in dead.”
“I think so,” Danielle agreed, “but you never know what you can do until it’s shoot or be shot. The first hombre I shot was trying to kill me, and that left me no choice. If we can track down Gaddis and Byler, I’ll let the two of you turn them in—or what’s left of them—for the bounty.”
“That’s white of you,” Sellers said, “but I don’t take money that I ain’t earned.”
“Me neither,” said Burris.
“Damn it,” said Danielle, “you’re looking at this all wrong. I’m not bounty hunting, and I’ll not be claiming any bounty. I want some varmints dead, and I won’t take money just for keeping a vow I made on my pa’s grave. If you’re with me, and there’s a bounty, you can take it or leave it. I don’t want it. I’d feel like I was selling my pa’s life for the money.”
“I reckon that makes sense,” Sellers said. “You’re a generous man, Daniel Strange.”
“Let’s get some supper,” said Burris, “and then check out the games in the saloons. It won’t seem so much like we’re wasting time if we can win some money.”
“I’ll risk a hundred, but no more,” Danielle said.
The Wagon Wheel was the biggest and fanciest saloon in town, and that’s where the trio went. Sellers and Burris took their seats at a table where a poker game was going on, while Danielle approached one of the faro tables.
“Five-dollar limit,” said the dealer. “Show me your money.”
Danielle dropped five double eagles on the green felt that covered the table. Some of the men around her cast sidelong glances at the twin Colts tied down on each hip. Losing the first three hands, Danielle then began to win. Sellers and Burris remained in the poker game as Danielle continued winning at faro. When her hundred-dollar stake increased to three hundred, she withdrew from the game. The relief on the dealer’s face was obvious. She headed for the poker table where Sellers and Burris seemed engrossed in the game. They seemed to be doing well, especially Burris. There was a huge pile of chips before him, and as Danielle watched, he won another pot.
“I’m out,” said one of the players in disgust.
But as he slid back his chair, Danielle could see that he held a revolver under the table, and he wasted no time in using it. He stood up.
“Bucko,” he said to Burris, “you’re just a little too damn lucky to suit me.”
Burris was caught totally by surprise, and as he went for his gun, his opponent fired.
But a second shot blended with his own, and he fell across the poker table. All eyes turned to Danielle, who still held a smoking Colt steady in her hand. Sellers was already kneeling over Burris.
“Is he alive?” Danielle asked.
“Yeah,” said Sellers, “and he wasn’t cheating. Some of you take a look at his cards.”
They examined the cards Burris was holding, shaking their heads.
“That damn Winters had to be the worst poker player in town,” said the house dealer. “When he’s a big loser—which is most of the time—he’s got to have a dog to kick.”
“He won’t be drawing any more bad poker hands,” one of the men said. “He’s stone cold dead.”
One man had gone for a doctor, while another had gone for the sheriff. Doctor Avery and Sheriff Barnes arrived together.
“He’ll live,” the doctor said after examining Burris.
“Who’s responsible for this?” the sheriff asked, his eyes on the dead gambler.
Chapter 12
“I shot him after he gunned down a friend of mine, Sheriff,” Danielle said.
“The hombre Elmo Winters shot wasn’t cheating, Sheriff,” said a house dealer. “Elmo had a mad on because he was losing, like he usually does.”
“I’ll want you to come with me to the office,” Sheriff Barnes told Danielle.
“Not until I’ve seen my friend back to the hotel,” said Danielle.
“Me and the doctor can handle that,” Herb Sellers said. “You got a stretcher, Doc?”
“Yes,” said Doctor Avery. “I’ll go get it.”
“Some of you tote Elmo Winters over yonder to the carpenter shop,” Sheriff Barnes said. “I’ll ride out in the morning and see what Jubal and Ebeau wants to do with him.”
Danielle followed Sheriff Barnes to his office, the lawman saying nothing until they were inside. Then he spoke.
“You can start by telling me who you are and what you’re doing in town.”
“I’m Daniel Strange, Sheriff, I mostly make my living gambling. You have some fine saloons here.”