Loose Ends
Chapter 2
Taylor wanted to claim his prize. He knew he had given Colter enough information to find the identity of the tall man he had seen at the Treasury and now he wanted his reward, the girl Jennifer. He returned to the house in Richmond only to find that Colter was not there. The few staff remaining at the house told him that the Boss had taken several of his men and headed for St. Louis. No one seemed to know anything about Colter's niece, so he could only assume that she was either with Colter himself or had been taken by the tall lawman. Whichever it was, he was determined he would find her. He could remember the last evening she had spent with him – at her uncle's insistence of course. He remembered the feel of her delicate skin beneath his fingers, her fear made her tremble as he touched her, she had tried to pull away from him but he had not allowed it, he had enjoyed that feeling of control. Yes he would find her no matter what.
The young printer's apprentice was not rich, but he had managed to save a respectable sum of money from selling the paper and inks he stole from the printing office, he took some of that money and bought himself a train ticket all the way to St. Louis.
St. Louis was a big city, not as big as Washington where he lived, but big and noisy nonetheless. To begin with he could find no information at all. No one had heard of Mr. Colter or his young niece. He tried asking about a tall lawman probably from out west somewhere, but again he found no one to help him in his search. He did manage to find the US Marshal's office but could hardly go walking in there asking for information.
William Taylor may have had a bad attitude to work, but when he really wanted something he was smart enough to figure out how to get it and spared no effort in doing whatever it took to meet that end.
The young apprentice took a room at a small boarding house barely a block from the Marshal's Office. There was a small bar just around the corner from there, it was not a fancy place but may be somewhere a low income deputy might hang out, especially if he was alone and had no home to go to.
For the next three evenings he walked around to the small seedy saloon and sat alone at the end of the bar. He didn't drink much, just sat and nursed a couple of beers the whole evening – he needed to keep his mind sharp. He got talking to the elderly barkeep, never told him much, just small talk to make a friendly contact. On the fourth evening his patience paid off. He heard the old barkeep greet a young weathered looking cowboy.
"Evenin' there Deputy, hadn't seen you around for a few days."
"No I've been out on assignment Ben."
Taylor's ears perked up, "Deputy" – just the man he was looking for. He worked his way along the bar till he was standing shoulder to shoulder with the Deputy. He looked at the man and figured he was just a couple of years younger than himself. This should be easy.
"Hello there Deputy," he said slapping the man on the back, "I just want to buy you a drink. Always support the law – that's what I say." He turned and looked down the bar – "Hey barkeep – whisky for the Deputy."
He took the bottle and 2 glasses to one of the three small tables in the dimly lit saloon, encouraging the deputy to follow him.
"Yes friend," he went on, " I really admire what you men do, bringing law and order to this expanding country." Taylor continued in a similar vein, gradually plying the young deputy with whisky and at the same time making him feel relaxed enough to start talking.
"I bet you have witnessed some pretty tense situations in your time as a lawman."
It wasn't long before the young deputy started to recall some stories. At first he was a little reluctant to say much, but then the whisky overcame his inhibitions and he began to open up to this man who was buying the drinks. He never realized that the man was only drinking one measure for every two or three he was downing.
" A few days ago I got back from a really dangerous job." He hesitated a moment wondering if he should be talking about this – but no one had said it was classified.
"We got called to the small township of Millers Crossroads – it's about 15 miles east of here. Marshal Broderick and myself went out there to help another Marshal who had been on special assignment. It was pretty dangerous. He had been tracking some big money counterfeiter from back east and got himself in difficulties. We had to ride out and take charge of the situation."
"Good for you deputy. Did you catch the counterfeiter."
"Actually he was already dead when we arrived. Some woman had shot him."
"Oh my, you surely see some dangerous stuff."
"Yeh." The deputy's speech was getting a little slurred at this time. "Marshal Broderick left me out there to protect that Marshal, Dillon was his name, and the two women that were with him."
"That was a big responsibility."
"I didn't take my eyes off of them for three days, then they got on the train and headed for Dodge City."
"Impressive, you obviously did a good job."
It wasn't long after this that Taylor told the deputy he had enjoyed talking to him but he had another appointment. He left him the remainder of the whisky bottle and made his way back to the boarding house where his room was. Tomorrow he would go to the train depot and buy a ticket to Dodge City, Kansas.
-xx-
It was a long and tedious journey and by the time William Taylor stepped down from the train in Dodge he was feeling in need of a bath and a bed. He looked down Front Street and was taken aback by the dust and the chaos. He had never been west of the Mississippi before and the whole atmosphere of this town was difficult for him to comprehend. There were an endless number of carts, wagons and buggy's of all types on the streets. Cowboys on horseback, chickens pecking in the dirt, a drunk or two sleeping on the boardwalk, even a few stray dogs, all so different to what he was used to. He was planning to get himself a room at the Dodge House, someone had pointed him in the right direction, but on the way he saw across the street a sign that read US Marshal, Dodge city, Kansas. Taking care to avoid at least 3 wagons and four men on horseback he walked towards the sign. It was to the left hand side of the door to a brick building. The windows facing the street had bars on them but he managed to look through them. Inside he could see a man with a stiff leg moving around, that was definitely not Dillon. He backed away from the window to find a tall well-built man looking at him.
"Can I help you?" the man had asked. He had replied that he was looking for the Marshal. When this man claimed to be the Marshal he was confused. His information could not have been that wrong. He didn't want to stay and ask any questions and maybe draw attention to himself, all he really wanted at that moment was to find a bed and catch up on the sleep he had missed on the train. The man who claimed to be the Marshal went inside the building and William Taylor took the opportunity to leave.
TBC
