"This better be good, Barnes."
The young man swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing, but he didn't back down.
"It is, Deputy. You need to come and talk to these two."
The imposing older man restrained a sigh. So much for dinner.
"Alright, boy. You better tell me".
Fifteen minutes later, they entered the sheriff's office. Two middle-aged men jumped up from their chairs.
"These are the two the janitor found tied up in the men's necessary at the train station, sir."
"I kind of figured that, Barnes," he responded drily. He shook hands with both men.
"Gentlemen, I'm Deputy Wade Sawyer. I'm the Acting Sheriff here in Bramberg. Deputy Barnes already told me a bit on the way over here, but why don't one of you give me your story."
"Deputy, there ain't time for a story. I'm Carl Grant, and this here is my partner Fred Gaines. We're detectives with the George Bannerman Detective Agency. You got to get that telegraph office open again so we can send a telegram to Harry Briscoe in Brimstone. He's running the Bannerman operation on the gold train. We got to tell him there's two men pretending to be us on that train."
"Slow down, Grant. I don't got to do anything until you convince me you're really Bannerman men."
"Here's our identification Deputy Sawyer," Gaines said. "This proves we're certified agents from the Fort Worth office. George Bannerman himself had us come here to Bramberg to help protect the gold train. If we can't reach Mr. Briscoe when the train stops at Brimstone, the whole gold shipment could be in danger."
"I know about the gold train," Sawyer said, casually sitting down on one corner of his desk, giving the identifications cards only a quick look before returning them to Gaines and Grant. "Everybody seems to. Poor security, I'd say. That don't sound like the way Bannerman operates."
"It is in this case, Deputy," Gaines insisted. "We made sure the word got out. Me and Grant here, along with other top agents, we set a trap for the Devil's Hole Gang. We want them to attack the train. When they do, we'll be ready."
"The Devil's Hole Gang," Sawyer said, thoughtfully.
"No doubt you're familiar with them, Deputy."
"More than you know, Mr. Gaines." Sawyer held up one hand in a stop gesture when Grant started to talk again. "Give me a minute here, Mr. Grant."
Sawyer turned abruptly to the young man waiting nervously behind him. "Barnes. You're so good at getting people over here. Find Homer Thatcher and Al Farrington and bring them here. Thatcher first. He's probably bending his elbow at the saloon." Barnes nodded and almost ran out the door, slamming it loudly behind him. Sawyer winced at the noise and turned his attention back to the two anxious men before him.
"Thatcher's the railroad ticket agent. He'll verify whether or not you were on the list Bannerman provided."
"I appreciate your caution, Deputy," Gaines said, "but we're awful short on time. We need that telegram sent."
"Farrington's the telegraph office manager. If I believe your story, which I don't yet, I'll have him send the telegraph to Brimstone."
"What don't you believe, Deputy Sawyer?" Grant asked. "We gave you our identification."
"Identification can be forged or stolen," Sawyer replied. "Especially when the Devil's Hole Gang may be involved. And frankly, the way you were found, all hog-tied nice and neat in the men's necessary, isn't exactly the way I normally meet Bannerman agents."
Grant's and Gaines' expressions shifted between embarrassment and anger.
"I'll admit that tonight's not our finest moment as Bannerman agents," Grant said. "We were completely surprised by those two."
"Not completely," Gaines argued. "I had my gun pointed at 'em."
"You were holding a gun on them?" Sawyer asked, his voice full of doubt. "And they still got the drop on you? Gentlemen, gentlemen. And you want me to believe that you're not only Bannerman agents, but so good that George Bannerman wanted you special." Sawyer shook his head, as if he were sad. A deep red flush grew on the faces of both agents.
"Not our best day for sure," Gaines admitted. "But it doesn't the facts, Deputy Sawyer. There's two men on the gold train, pretending to be us."
"How is that a problem? A train full of Bannerman detectives, two strangers will be spotted right away. Unless they look just like you."
"They don't look like us, but this job's pulling agents from all the major offices. We've never met any of them."
"So even if I let you send a telegram to Briscoe, he won't be able to verify who you are, or who they are?"
The deep red flush on the agents' faces got deeper. "Afraid so, Deputy."
"You two are in a world of hurt, aren't you?"
"Deputy Sawyer," Grant said, "You've got to believe us. This is our best chance to get the Devil's Hole Gang, and especially Heyes and Curry. Don't you want them out of your hair, once and for all?"
"More than you know," Sawyer told them. "I had a run-in with Heyes and Curry in Kingsburg not too long ago. My wife's heard me go on so much about them two, she laughs at me and calls me their nemesis." He noticed the confusion on the agents' faces. "Nemesis was one of them old Greek gods. The agent of justice or vengeance. My wife's a reader."
"Now you got me curious, Deputy," Grant said. "Sounds like you know them well."
"Too well. If I ever see them two again, I'll put them in the ground myself."
Both Gaines and Grant stood up a little straighter.
"You'd know them on sight, Deputy?" Gaines asked.
"Sure would. I've been as close to them as I am to you right now." The agents exchanged glances.
"What?" Sawyer asked.
"I wish we'd known that beforehand. One of our agents, Jeremiah Daly, he found a girl who says she knows Heyes and Curry. She's the ace up our sleeve."
"You mean she's on the train?" The two agents nodded.
"When the gang attacks, she's supposed to point out Heyes and Curry, so we can be sure to aim the gatling gun direct at them."
"This train's got a gatling gun?" Sawyer was impressed in spite of himself.
"Sure does. The Bannerman organization's going to put every one of the Devil's Hole Gang down. Especially Heyes and Curry."
Sawyer whistled a slow, long whistle. "Well. That's something." He looked at his reluctant guests with more respect. "I sure hope your story pans out, gentlemen. Because nothing'd please me more to see Heyes and Curry in pine boxes."
The door burst open suddenly. A dishevelled man in a railroad conductor's suit stumbled over the threshold. He was pushed into the room none too gently by Barnes.
"I found Homer at the saloon, Deputy, just like you said."
"Good job, Barnes. Now go get Farrington. Homer, sit down before you fall down." The railroad agent fell heavily into a chair. He wiped his face with a crumpled handkerchief. The other mens' noses wrinkled at the strong smell of beer that emanated from Thatcher.
"How much you had to drink tonight, Homer?" Sawyer asked.
"What do you care? I'm off duty, and I paid for my own drinks."
"In case you ain't noticed, Homer, I got two guests here besides you." Thatcher looked up reluctantly into two familiar faces.
"How come you two ain't on the train?" Thatcher asked.
"There you go, Sheriff! That confirms our story," Grant said.
"Homer. You recognize these two?"
"Sure do, Deputy."
"Where'd you see 'em last?"
"At the ticket office tonight. They had reservations for the special train. I gave them their tickets."
"You see anybody else who didn't have reservations?"
Thatcher shrugged dismissively and tried to rise. Sawyer leaned forward and put a firm hand on Thatcher's shoulder, shoving him hard back into the chair.
"Be real clear, Homer. Leastways, clear as you can be when you get off-duty. Did anyone else try to buy tickets for the special train tonight?"
Thatcher looked resentfully at the firm hand pinning. "My memory ain't so good when someone's tryin' to push me around."
"You ever hear of obstruction of justice, Homer?" Sawyer asked. "That's a criminal offense. That's when an officer of the law, like me, is trying to do an investigation, and some damn fool, like you, tries to be a pain in the ass. That railroad you work for ain't gonna be too happy when it finds out you didn't do your closing rounds like you should have done anyway. 'Cause if you had, you'd've found these two Bannerman detectives right quick."
"I didn't know they was Bannermans," Thatcher whined.
"You weren't supposed to," Grant said. "Answer Deputy Sawyer's question."
"Yeah. There was two young fellers. They wanted real bad to buy tickets. I told 'em, the train was full up. That's when these two, Grant and Gaines, they come in, and I checked the reservation list. They was on the list, so I sold them tickets. Soon as they left, them other two came back, wanting to know why they got tickets. I said, 'cause they had reservations. The dark-haired one, he was doing all the talking, he says, 'fine, sell us a reservation.' I told him, sorry, the train's all sold out. I turned away just for a minute, and they was gone. I figured they left."
"That's better, Homer. Now tell me what these two looked like. You saw 'em real close-up."
"I sure did. Both maybe late 20's. Clean-cut. Both of them maybe just under six foot tall."
"Good, Homer," Sawyer urged. He glanced over at the Bannerman agents and noticed both looked grim.
"This description sound familiar to you men?"
"Sure does."
"Go on, Homer. Hair color. Eye color. What they wore. Were they heeled?"
"I'll remember better if you unhand me, Deputy." Sawyer released the man's shoulder.
"The dark-haired one, brown hair, brown eyes. Black hat with silver studs on the hat band, brown corduroy jacket. The other one, he never said a word. Brown hat, leather jacket. Curly blonde hair, I think, but hard to say with his hat on. Blue eyes. And yeah, now that you mention it, both of them wore guns."
"Gaines, Grant, you got any more questions for this man?"
"I do," Gaines said. "What did you do after the train left the station?"
"I locked up and walked over to the saloon. That's where I been since."
"Alright, Homer, you can go now," Sawyer told him.
"I can?"
"Yep. In fact, if you ain't out of here in about 30 seconds, I might kick you out."
"I'm goin." He paused at the door. "Deputy, you ain't gonna tell the railroad about me not checking the washroom before I left are you?"
"I'll think about it. Now skedaddle."
After the door closed, Sawyer turned to the unhappy agents.
"Boys, I'm starting to believe you."
"All that man did was confirm we gave him names that were on the list," Grant said. "How come you believe us now?"
"Because of that description." Grant and Gaines looked puzzled. "You don't get it, do you? It'd be funny if it weren't so tragic. That description fits Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry a hundred percent." Disbelief and shock showed on the agents' faces.
"That's the tragic part. Here you are, all fired-up to get on that gold train to catch Heyes and Curry, and you could've caught them in the washroom. Gaines, you even had them at gunpoint. Twenty thousand dollars in the washroom with you, and you never knew it."
The door slammed open again. This time, Barnes escorted an elderly man, who stepped carefully over the threshold. Sawyer got up and shook his hand.
"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Farrington, but it looks like I'm going need you to reopen the telegraph office right now and send an emergency message to Brimstone."
"You know I'm always willing to help out, Deputy Sawyer. Least as much as these old bones let me."
Sawyer opened a desk drawer and pulled out a pad of paper. "Mr. Farrington, one of these gentlemen is going to dictate a message for you to send to the railroad office in Brimstone. Why don't you sit down in my chair so it's easier for you to write?"
"I'll dictate," Grant said. He waited until the old man was settled in the chair, pen poised above the paper. "To Mr. Harry Briscoe. Men claiming to be Grant and Gaines are impostors. Arrest them immediately. And sign that Fred Gaines and Carl Grant, Bannerman Agency." The old man wrote quickly and read the message back to make sure it was right.
"You satisfied, gentlemen? Barnes," Sawyer said, "you escort Mr. Farrington to the telegraph office. Make sure you wait for a reply. Then bring it back here right away."
"Will do, Deputy. This way, if you please, Mr. Farrington." Barnes offered his arm to Farrington, who gratefully took it to pull himself out of the chair.
"Don't worry, Deputy," Farrington said. "I know the operator in Bramberg. He's a good man. He'll make sure the conductor on that train gets the telegram."
"Good. Do it." No one spoke until the two left.
"Why didn't you mention Heyes or Curry in that message?" Sawyer asked.
"Not necessary," Grant replied. "All that matters now is that they're taken into custody."
"Besides," Gaines added, "all hell might break loose if a lot of people knew $20,000 was walking around in front of them. Even that responsible telegrapher in Bramberg could decide to take it upon himself to arrest them and claim the money for himself. No, it's safer for everyone if they don't know they're facing Heyes and Curry."
"I see your point, but I don't agree with you. Those two are smart and dangerous. Better to have everyone alerted. Else they'll get the jump on folks the same way they did on you."
"No, they won't, Deputy. They had the advantage of surprise. They won't get that again."
Sawyer only grunted. "Have it your way." He looked at the clock on the wall. "Shouldn't be too long a wait. You might as well sit down and get comfortable. I'll make us some coffee."
The minutes passed slowly. Gaines and Grant sat tensely in their chairs, sipping the bitter coffee and checking their pocket watches almost minute to minute. Rather than watch the clock, Sawyer decided to do a little paperwork. He was thumbing through a file drawer when some sixth sense made him look up. Barnes was outside, looking at him through the window. Sawyer's mouth opened to say something, but Barnes shook his head. Sawyer pushed the file drawer closed carefully.
The two agents were staring off into space, ignoring him. Slowly, Sawyer reached for his gun. He unhooked the safety on his holster and patted the gun for reassurance. Looking at Barnes again, Sawyer flicked his eyes towards the agents and pointed to his own gun. He mouthed silently "come in."
Barnes came in quietly. Grant and Gaines almost jumped out of their seats. Standing behind them, Sawyer drew his gun and pointed it at their backs.
"Did you get a reply, boy?" Gaines asked. Barnes' eyes drifted past him towards Sawyer.
"Easy now, Grant, Gaines. If those are your names." Their jaws dropped comically when they saw Sawyer's Colt pointed steadily at them.
"Take your guns out, gentlemen. Slow, one finger, and put them careful-like on my desk."
"Deputy Sawyer, what are you doing?" Grant demanded. "I thought you said you were starting to believe us."
"Starting to," Sawyer replied, "but not there yet. Guns on the desk, then you sit down again. Hands on the arms of your chairs, where I can see them." The men complied, reluctantly.
"Now what?" Gaines said. Sawyer crossed over to his desk, his Colt steady in his hand.
"I believe we do have a reply, gentlemen. Why don't you read it, Barnes?" There was no sound in the room except the crinkling of paper as Barnes unfolded the telegram. He read out loud:
Men claiming to be Grant and Gaines are fugitives. Hold for my return. All my best, Harry Briscoe.
"That settles it. You're going to be my guests here until Mr. Briscoe gets back."
"There's got to be a mistake," Grant insisted. He was almost sputtering.
"No mistake," Sawyer said. "Unless it was yours, trying to pass yourselves off as Bannermans. Barnes, you take one of their guns. We're going to escort these two into the first cell, where they can settle in. You'll stay here tonight with them, and I'll relieve you in the morning." The two demoralized agents wearily entered the first cell, shoulders sagging. They looked utterly defeated.
"Bannerman men. Huh. Nice try, fellas." He tipped his hat to them and left quickly. If he got home soon, maybe Maggie would heat up some dinner for him.
8