Ghost Riders
Chapter 1 – Old Friends"For Heaven's sake, Mrs. Blaylock, I thought you were gonna leave that room next door to me vacant for the time being." The marshal wasn't scolding the hotel proprietor as much as he was just stating a fact. He'd been renting room 216 for several weeks now and he thought he had an understanding with the woman – it would be better for all involved if there was no one living right next to him.
"Well, I was, marshal, but then this charming young man rode in this morning. Kind of reminds me of you. Left this note for you." Mrs. Blaylock pulled the hand-written note out of the cubby hole for room 216 and passed it over.
'Que Pasa? Billy Manning.' Jeb read the note and broke into a big grin. "Tell me what he looks like."
The Telluride Mountain Hotel manager breathed a sigh of relief. The Federal Marshal was a good-natured man, big, blond and handsome, and she'd much rather see him smile than look unhappy. His eyes sparkled when he was smiling, just like he was doing now. He hadn't looked pleased with much the last week or ten days, and he was a lot easier on the eyes and nerves when his mood was as good as it was at this exact moment.
"Tall, dark, clean-shaven, kinda on the thin side. Dressed real nice, too. Just as polite and sweet as he could be. Sounded southern – Texas, probably. Just a little twang. Rode in on a big buckskin."
"Room 214?" he asked, and Mrs. Blaylock nodded.
"Said to come right on up when you got in. Anything the two of you need?"
"No, ma'am. I imagine we'll be down to the dining room shortly. Any idea what they're servin' tonight?"
"Buffalo steak, I believe. Cook's special recipe. Everybody in town loves it."
The marshal grimaced. He'd had enough buffalo to last the rest of his life, but it was better than another can of beans. "Alright, Mrs. Blaylock. Thanks."
He took the steps upstairs two at a time and landed right outside room 214. He knocked but heard nothing inside until he banged on the door loudly and bellowed, "Manning! Open up, you're under arrest!"
The door flew open in a hurry and a familiar face greeted him. "You scoundrel. You can't arrest me, I ain't wanted by nobody for nothin'."
"Prove it," the marshal shot back, and the two men embraced, then stepped apart and looked at each other.
"Don't just stand out there in the hallway, like some ignorant John Law," was the laughing comment from inside.
"Get your butt out of the way and let me in," the marshal responded.
The man in the room stepped aside and held the door open. "Still keepin' long hours, I see."
"A lawman's work is never done. What are you doin' in Telluride?"
"I was in Grand Junction and got lost."
"An unlikely story," the marshal remarked as he entered the room, the door closing behind him. "Where's your brother?"
"Someplace a lot warmer right now, I expect. He had some business to take care of that I didn't want to get involved in, so he went south and I went west. We'll meet back up down the road a ways."
Jeb Coughlin laughed and took a seat. "I guess you two can function without bein' in the same room."
"Here, now," Bart Maverick responded, "there's no need to be insultin' me."
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"Say, Mrs. Blaylock was right. This buffalo's pretty good." It was almost an hour later and the two men were sitting in the dining room of the hotel just finishing their meal.
"I'm sick to death of buffalo," Jeb responded. "If you stay here longer than a few days you will be, too."
"Oh, I'll be here a while. There's a poker game startin' tomorrow that I came to play in."
"So seein' me wasn't the main attraction after all, was it?"
The dark-haired man laughed. "Well . . . "
"How are your brother and Malone doin'?" That was a convoluted relationship, and dated back to pre-Jeb Coughlin days.
"It's complicated," the gambler explained.
"It's always been complicated."
"Let's just say that they're together but apart at the moment." That was about the best way Maverick could explain it. Bart and his older brother Bret, both professional poker players, had helped Ginny Malone, Pinkerton agent, on several cases. The biggest one was in St. Louis and had them playing husband and wife while all three, and Marshal Jeb Coughlin, worked on the problem. During the lengthy investigation Bret and Ginny had fallen in love and discussed a more permanent relationship between them, but it seemed that neither was ready to settle down just yet. They'd parted company for the time being, with an unspoken understanding that somewhere down the road . . .
Malone's next case had been in Laramie, Wyoming, where she and the Federal Marshal again crossed paths, while the Maverick brothers were off on another sojourn to only the poker gods knew where. Almost a year had passed since then, and it seemed that nothing much had changed in the interim. When Jeb expressed that sentiment, Bart corrected him. "That's what you think." There was no explanation following the remark, and Coughlin knew the gambler well enough to know Bart would clarify when he felt like it.
"You think they'll ever settle down and get married?"
"Shhh, not so loud. If either one of 'em hears you they'll run like scared rabbits."
"And what about you? Nothin' exciting in your life?"
There was a twinkle in Bart's eye that hadn't been there before. "Didn't say that. For the moment poker's my lady. How about you? What are you wrapped up in here?"
"Ah, got another mess on my hands, and I'm gettin' nowhere. But you didn't come here to listen to my troubles. Besides, you ain't workin' Pinkerton right now, are ya?"
The gambler shook his head. "Nope. Not doin' anything more excitin' than playin' poker. Unless you could use some help."
Hmmm. There was an idea that held some appeal. Jeb had seen what Maverick was able to accomplish first-hand, and he was certainly making no progress on his own. If Bart would allow himself to be deputized . . .
"How serious are you?"
"What?" Maverick laid down his fork and looked the marshal square in the eye. "Serious enough. You probably saved my life in St. Louis. If you need help now . . . "
"I just might, at that. Let me explain . . . "