CHAPTER XI
STRAWBERRY, WEST ELIZABETH, JUNE 8TH 1900
After a few hours horseback, in a saddle that wasn't his and trying to control a stallion that was only mildly friendly, Vic was pretty worn out and jaded when he finally saw the sign at the top of the hill, welcoming travelers to the town of Strawberry. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it in his life, as the Tumbleweed deputy had been a visitor in the West Elizabeth mountain town a bunch of times over the years. He had always remembered it as the furthest place East he'd ever been, up until a few days before at least.
The journey from the Cumberland Forest had been easy, which he was thankful for. The only problems he'd faced were crossing a couple of gully's and a river. What would usually have been normal and manageable tasks for the lawman were made just slightly harder given he was riding a horse that had gotten use to the command of a 16-year old girl. Vic had tried in the few hours with Friday to get on more familiar terms with the mount, all to no avail. It was clear that the horse knew it was a temporary affair, so it had no interest in growing a bond. Once Strawberry had been reached, Vic was gonna be more than happy to hitch Friday up and wait for his own mare.
As Vic trotted underneath the welcome sign, he could already see the town up ahead. Strawberry had always been a quaint and tranquil place. Every time Vic had visited over the years he'd enjoyed the cooler air and the calmer people. It had always made a nice escape from New Austin, which had always seemed like a different world in comparison. Unlike the flat land of Vic's home state, Strawberry was built on a large bank and had a river flowing through it. Among the enormous trees, banks and cliffs, Strawberry stood proud. Every building, cabin and bridge was made out of solid oak-wood. Admirably, the small mountain town managed to sustain itself too. There was a water-mill built in the centre, using the river water to provide sustenance to all the settlers.
Just when Vic trotted on past the small Butcher's stall, he heard a resident yell out from above. As the deputy turned he could see a man standing outside the general store on it's wooden deck, eating a small roll of bread.
"Howdy, sir! Welcome!" The man called out with a respectful smile, tipping his dirty hat and chewing hard.
Vic gave a weak smile back and waved awkwardly. He assumed that they'd noticed the badge on his shirt an therefore respected him almost by default, given the recent happening's in the small, friendly settlement. As much as the town residents might not have known it, the massacre that had took place there recently had effected him as much as them. Even as Vic made his way through the mud atop of Friday, up the bank of town, he could see all the makeshift graves. Little mounds of mud with rock coves and crosses made out of tree branches. The sight made him wonder to himself which graves were that of his two fallen colleagues. Where were Quinn and Robson buried? Did the residents even bury them, since they were not from around here? The thought of his two friends just being dumped in holes outside of town sickened him. Though deep down he knew the citizens of Strawberry were friendly, so surely his comrades would have been given the same treatment. Surely, he thought.
Soon enough though, Vic brought his focus back to point. The deputy had finally reached the top of the bank that Strawberry was built on. It was where the town's Jail and Welcome Center were. He didn't imagine the Jail would be housing many criminals, given the town was far out in the sticks and rarely saw any trouble. But it wasn't the Jail he was there to visit, so the deputy calmly but swiftly climbed down off of Friday and hitched the horse outside the Welcome Center. It was Strawberry's main hotel building for visitors. And it was the owner's of it that he'd came to see.
After Vic had made sure Friday's reins were tied tightly enough, he took a breather and lit a smoke while overlooking the rest of town from above. The view was beautiful and put his mind at rest for the few minutes he had to spare. It let him think about things for a little bit, mainly about what Ellie and Sawyer were up to. Vic doubted that whichever treasure Ellie had in mind would ever be found, if it was even real and not just some bullshit scribbled on some old paper. There was a little worry about the two of them being in danger too. All it would take was the wrong person to recognize who Sawyer was and then blood could be spilled.
Given he had little time to dawdle, Vic finished the cigarette quick, flicked away the butt and made his way up the steps onto the Welcome Center's beautifully crafted deck. The whole place was filled with sculptures and decorations made from what looked like deer antlers. To hear about it would make it sound like a butcher shop, but being there and seeing it, it was such an elegant sight.
It was on the lushly crafted deck that he noticed the owner sitting down at a small table in the corner, smoking a pipe and reading a paper. Both men recognized each other as soon as the glances were made.
"My word. Do my eyes deceive me?" David, one of the Anderson brothers said, with obvious sarcasm, "Victor Noble!?"
Vic looked around awkwardly. Nobody else had ever called him 'Victor', not even his own Mother. Yet the businessman from England seemed to find calling him that very crucial.
The deputy then smirked and nodded, "Howdy, Dave. How's business?"
"Why it's jolly good, dear boy." Said David with such enthusiasm before gesturing to a chair, "Please, join me."
Vic pulled the empty chair out and sat down across from his old friend. Even the chairs at the Welcome Center were real comfortable. Instead of being made from just thin limbs of timber, they were thicker, sturdier and had a soft cushion to sit on rather than a flat splintery plank. Vic found the comfort a relief after the rough journey in Friday's saddle.
"I must say, it's bloody nice to see you again! To what do I owe this splendid visit?" David asked, smiling and puffing away at his pipe.
Vic sighed and ribbed his tired eyes, "Long fuckin' story, Dave. Ain't really got the time to go far into it."
David chuckled, "Well, surely you can reveal the finer details. Please do, there hasn't been much excitement in these parts for some time. Not since the atrocities committed here in recent weeks."
"Well as it happens, it's actually because of those 'events' that I'm here." Vic revealed, leaning back in the soft chair, "I'm guessing you were around when it all went down?"
"Of course," Replied the Englishman before blowing out another cloud of smoke, "Although I did not witness every part of it. Myself and Peter had to... Protect our business, so to speak. You understand."
"Then what was it you heard after it was all over?" The deputy asked.
David shrugged casually and looked at his paper, "That it was all the handy work of two quite notorious bandits. Am I right?"
Vic grinned at David. They'd known each other for years and had always been ally's from the get-go. Though deep down, both men knew they were practically accomplices to each other. After all, if Vic were to report the side business that David and his brother were running, they'd be shut down and maybe even hanged. And at the same time, Vic had used their side business and their contacts to capture a few of his targets in the past. So now the deputy and the Englishman found themselves in a rather friendly truce. Thus, they'd learnt how to read one another quite well.
"Your tone kinda tells me you know more than you're lettin' on, Dave." Vic said, smirking and knowing fine well that he was right.
David laughed again to himself before loading up his pipe with more tobacco and relighting it. The sight made Vic crave another smoke, so he decided to join his friend and sparked up another.
"By god, did I ever tell you how joyous it is to have you visit, Victor? Life is so boring without the world's vexing tendencies. When you visit, you bring stories of the lands and plains beyond this idyllic town." Said the English migrant, paying Vic what seemed like a compliment.
Vic didn't have much to say back. He just smiled and dragged the ember of his smoke. The way David talked, the way all English people talked, was just plain weird. Sometimes he didn't even know what they'd said. Thankfully after years of working together now and then, Vic was pretty attuned to the language that David Anderson spoke.
"However, I do digress." David admitted, chuckling yet again, "It's to my understanding and knowledge that the horrendous acts carried out against the pleasant people here were that of a man by the name Roland Payne."
"Then you'd be right, friend." Vic revealed.
David took a puff of the pipe and savored the taste, "Ghastly man, I must say. Pugnacious and incredibly unpleasant."
"You had dealings with him?" Vic asked, shocked at the idea.
David quickly shook his head, "Lord no, he just tried to pay for a room. But even we here don't take payments from men who look like they've just crawled their way out from the grave. No matter how much copper they may carry."
Vic took a big drag and continued, "Well he's the reason I'm here. Along with all the people killed here by that motherfucker, two of 'em were my friends. Colleagues from far out West. You remember seeing 'em?"
"Cannot say I do, old boy. Business was good that day, so much so I was behind the desk inside for most of it. And I don't recall any lightly tanned members of the law asking for beds."
"Even so, that piece of shit shot down two deputy's from Tumbleweed. Killed 'em in cold blood. Now I've been sent here by Sheriff Freeman to put an end to his little reign of terror." Vic finally told his friend, releasing the smoke from his lungs.
David took another puff from the pipe before putting his paper back on the table, "Do correct me if I'm wrong here, Victor. But I do sense that you may be here looking for some help with your little... Escapade."
Vic nodded calmly, "And again, you'd be right."
The English businessman just smirked and fiddled with his dark brown, perfectly kempt mustache. It was a handlebar that stretched quite a way off his face. Being the owner of a respected hotel in a mountain town, David was also wearing his usual black suit, white shirt and folded string tie. All just as clean and neat as his facial hair was. Not much attention was given to the hair on his head however, as there wasn't much there anymore besides a short comb-over.
After putting out his pipe and adjusting his suit, David stood up from his chair and gestured his hand towards the entrance to his building.
"I believe we ought to discuss these matters in private, Deputy." David suggested, "Over a drink, perhaps?"
Vic finished the smoke and stood back up himself, "Sure. A bourbon sounds pretty fucking good right about now."
The maverick lawman stood from the soft chair and followed David on through the door to the hotel lobby. The sight of it never failed to leave Vic astounded. Even though Valentine's hotel reception was a marvel to look at, it was nothing like the beauty of Strawberry's Welcome Centre. Just as you walked in, to the left there was enormous stuffed Grizzly Bear that sometimes frightened visitors. Even the antler-decor that covered the exterior was in an abundance inside too. Looking above, Vic noticed again that even the chandelier was a sculpture made out of the them. Even across the hall there was two stuffed Deer's too. The deputy figured it must've taken maybe a hundred deer and elks to get the place looking like it did.
David quickly dashed behind the reception counter and grabbed a small bronze key. Vic knew what it was for and stood patiently for the Hotel Manager to do his thing. Eventually he waved over one of his workers, a plump woman with red hair and a spotty face. Older than Vic was probably.
"Shelly, my dear! Could you man the reception for me whilst myself and the deputy discuss business in privacy?" David asked kindly as she approached.
Shelly's wrinkly face sneered, "Why can't Peter do that? I been busy washing the dirty sheets."
"Because my beloved brother is currently out of town doing business on behalf of us all." David told her, casually moving her towards the counter, "Now please, do as I ask won't you? And don't complain, you know how much the visitors in town do love your infallible smile."
Shelly was eventually behind the reception and stood still, giving David a very bland expression. Clearly she wasn't the social type, but if David was happy leaving the lobby in her hands, she must've been good for some things, Vic thought.
David then turned back to the lawman, "Now, old boy. Do follow me."
The Englishman then led Vic to a backroom that he unlocked with the bronze key. Both men then walked down a concrete flight of stairs into the Welcome Center's secret basement. A large cellar filled with crates of weaponry and ammunition and also boxes packed with alcohol of all kinds.
David took out a bottle of Kentucky Bourbon and two glasses, set them down on the desk he used to conduct his side business and then sat down across from Vic. The arms dealer looked even more at home at the desk of his secret, illegal line of work than he did up in the hotel. It still baffled Vic that the Anderson brothers had never been caught doing what they did. It wasn't as if they'd only ever supplied good people with weapons. They'd sold them to all kinds, even bandits and raiders. Their illusive occupation was not a very ethical one, and they knew it. Yet they'd never claimed to be good people themselves, which is probably why Vic had respected them for so long and never reported their actions.
David started to fill his pipe again, "Do pour the drinks yourself like a good chap. Double for his both, I should think."
Vic nodded again and poured two quite liberal measures of bourbon in each glass before sliding David's over to him. The man from England then lit his pipe and picked up the glass.
"Cheers, old friend." David said with a smirk.
"Uh, yeah. Cheers." Vic replied awkwardly.
After clanking both glasses together, the men took glorious gulps of their drinks. Vic hadn't had a real drink in a few days so he savoured it all. The Anderson's always managed to get the best, whether it was beer, whiskey, vodka, guns and even drugs. They could get it all and it did Vic well to be their friend, so he could enjoy all the benefits at no cost.
"So, do tell what it is you're here for Victor, no doubt it's captivating tale." David asked, eager and thrilled to hear.
Vic took another drink, "You know that kid that Roland Payne was riding with, right?"
"Ah yes. Young delinquent they say."
"Yeah well... He's not riding with him anymore." Vic revealed before drinking again, "That kid ain't really as bad as they all made him out to be."
David then glared with a grin, "Don't tell me that Victor Noble himself has allied with a known felon."
Vic didn't know what to say back, instead he drank the last of his bourbon and then poured another almost immediately. The deputy did it mainly to confess to his friend without really saying it.
"Good lord, it's true. How did that come to be?" David asked.
"Like I said outside. I've been sent here to kill Roland Payne... But I was sent here to kill the kid too." Vic replied, "Turns out the kid's been crossed by that motherfucker too. So yeah, we're working together with a common goal. Wouldn't you?"
David laughed again, "You must know by now, old boy, I am not the one to look when the topic is morality. However, I can say that I trust your judgement immensely, Victor."
"Good to know, then maybe you'll give us the help we're needing." Vic said, "'Cause me and the kid saw Roland Payne himself last night. The piece of shit's plannin' to rob a bank in that city down in Lemoyne."
"Saint Denis?" David asked with a strange urgency.
"Yeah that's the place. We're gonna try and stop that son of a bitch from doin' it. Stop him killin' anybody else and finally taking him down for good." The deputy revealed, "Now I came here to you, Dave, 'cause I need weapons. Some honest to god firepower to stop this motherfucker and any other goons he's got alongside him."
David had listened carefully. Almost like a child being told an engrossing bedtime story. And he was more than willing to do good by his friend, however he knew there was already a snag. If he was to give Vic the amount of arms he needed to complete his mission, something else had to be done. Peter still wasn't back from his trip to Fort Riggs, so clearly he'd ran into a problem. Either that or his layabout brother had gotten carried away with the Hemp plant again. Whatever the reason, David didn't have the right quality of equipment to give his friend.
"Of course I am more than willing to assist you, Victor. That you should know, old boy." David said before wincing, "There is, however, one slight spanner in the works."
Vic gulped more Kentucky Bourbon and sighed, "What is it I gotta do this time?"
Before David could even begin to explain the situation to the Deputy, the cellar's walls echoed with a few loud thuds coming from the stairwell. Vic and David both looked over with glaring eyes. After a few moments of silence, waiting for whoever it was to make their presence known, David stood up from his desk.
"Yes?! May we help?!" The Englishman called out, adjusting his string tie.
Another brief minute of nothing went by before Shelly finally poked her around the corner from the stairs. This time she looked oddly worried about something, Vic noticed. Not as angry or miserable as she had only ten minutes earlier.
David scoffed, "This little visit better be imperative, Shelly. Nobody other than myself and Peter are permitted down in this cellar. You know this."
Shelly's mouth was twitching, like she was trying to say something but didn't know how to really put it into words.
"Do bloody come out with it, Shelly." David ordered, firmly.
"P...P... ton." The plump, sour-faced woman muttered.
David winced and leaned forward, "Frightfully sorry, my dear?"
"Pinkerton." Shelly finally divulged, "Upstairs."
David frowned in confusion and began looking a little uneasy. The arms dealer glanced at Vic who sat as still as a rock, still drinking the bourbon. Before long, the Anderson brother patted himself down and adjusted his string tie once again.
"Did he at all mention his motive for visiting?" David asked, calmly.
Shelly just shrugged, "Ain't said much... Just needs to talk to you about the killin's, happened here not long back."
Vic then frowned just like his friend did, similarly puzzled and interested to know why a Pinkerton Agent could be here asking about the massacre. The Tumbleweed lawman thought it too little an incident to even warrant one Agent. The Pinkerton's never really involved themselves in anything less than something gigantic, like a bank robbery or a train raid. The maverick deputy sat bewildered, why would a Pinkerton be on Roland's tail too? Was he really that infamous?
"Do tell the gentleman I shall be up in a few moments. Please make him aware of the hospitality's we offer here, won't you?" David kindly asked of Shelly, who just crept back upstairs without another word.
David then quickly turned to the Deputy, "Friend of yours, Victor?"
"Don't know any Pinkerton's. They don't really exist beyond the borders of New Austin." Vic replied after finishing his second glass.
Standing still, looking at the stairs, David was in deep thought, studying the situation. Vic did the same, still sitting at the desk.
Pinkerton's were not an entity to be messed with. Their jurisdiction reached further than any other law department. Even if Vic had never seen a single agent far West of New Austin, if one was to show up, they would be in charge, no matter what. And now there was an agent upstairs, while him and his English friend were doing arms deals in the basement. If this agent wanted to inspect the cellar, he could do so, without any prior consent. And David knew this well.
"Well, we'd do well not to keep the gentleman waiting much longer, Victor. You will accompany me up to the reception, won't you?" David then asked, preparing himself.
Vic finally rose from his seat and pulled out a cigarette, "Right behind ya."
"Hmm, may I?" David asked, casually reaching into Vic's packet and taking a smoke for himself, "Time's like the present I do enjoy inhaling something rather less conspicuous."
The deputy just watched his friend, clearly nervous, put the smoke between his mustache and lip before once again making sure his black suit, white shirt and tie were all in good order. Vic then lit a match to light his own smoke and held the small flame out to his friend to light his too.
David took a satisfying few drags of the cigarette before nodding and winking at Vic with gratitude. The deputy waved the match to put out the flame and then dragged the ember himself. Both men knew they'd kept the agent waiting long enough.
"Shall we, Dave?" Vic finally asked, gesturing his hand to the stairwell.
David nodded in agreement and both the Englishman and the Deputy headed to the concrete stairs and ascended back up into the less-secret world.
As soon as David and Vic entered the reception once again, the presence of the Pinkerton agent was known. Everything just felt very different to how it was before the men had moved to the basement. Only Shelly and the agent were present in the lobby when the cellar door opened.
The agent was standing against the reception desk, smoking a cigar, practically choking Shelly with the thick fog that leaked from his mouth and nostrils. He was a tad taller than Vic, the same height as David but thinner than both. Wearing a dark coat going down to his thighs, a blood-red waistcoat and a bowler hat with a red stripe going around it, it was impossible to mistake him as anything other than an agent of the Pinkerton's.
Vic noticed that the agent had eyed his lawman badge real quick, like an animal spotting prey. Though he knew the agent would never have visited somewhere as barren as Tumbleweed, he knew now for certain that Vic was a fellow man of the law. Just with less power
"You David Anderson?" The Pinkerton asked, his voice slightly high-pitched.
He wasn't a young man, but not old either. Sporting a thin goatee and greasy longish hair that crept out of his bowler hat, he was a strange and yet intimidating sight. Like most Pinkerton's, David thought.
"Correct, that is I." David said, putting on a gracious front and holding out his hand, "And who might you be, sir?"
"Agent Wilson." The Pinkerton divulged, shaking David's hand, "Here to ask you some questions if I may, Mr. Anderson."
David went quiet suddenly, looking at Agent Wilson, Shelly and Vic each for a second. The English arms dealer wanted nothing more than to tell the Pinkerton where to stick his questions. Unfortunately, that was an impossibility.
"Of course, Agent. I'd offer you a cigarette but it looks as though you have something which put's our smoke's to shame." David finally replied with a laugh, trying to break ice which was clearly indestructible.
Agent Wilson stared at David and kept quickly glancing to Vic behind him. Eventually the Pinkerton agent took another puff of his cigar and blew the smoke rather blatantly into David's face.
"About sixteen days ago, something happened in this town." Wilson started, "Fairly sure you were here when it happened."
David puffed away at his smoke, pretending to do some hard thinking, "Terribly sorry, Agent. My memory is getting rather fuzzy in my older age. I may have been present at the time but I could not be sure."
Agent Wilson then stared at David once again, this time with a meaner look.
"That's odd, 'cause four people I've already talked to in town can account for your whereabouts's that day." Wilson replied, calling the bluff, "You see when the gun's were goin' off and people were scramblin' for safety, some people hunkered down in your hotel. So it's been said, by a few, that you were right here."
Vic watched David, waiting to see his friend come back with something that would shut down the Agent fast. After a few moments of nothing, Vic saw something that he had not before. David Anderson was a loss for words. After all he had to be careful, since saying the wrong thing could have the Pinkerton agent searching the whole building, which wasn't good for him or Vic.
"Ah, well the citizens of Strawberry are indeed very honest, Agent Wilson." David finally said with a fake smile, "They're probably more than correct."
Agent Wilson nodded with an arrogant smile, almost like he was just waiting for David to admit he was right.
"My question for you, Mr. Anderson, is do you remember any newcomers to town that day? Paying for rent here?"
"Newcomers? Do elaborate, Agent Wilson."
After a moment of clear irritation, Wilson continued, "People who looked strange. Outer town. Hadn't seen 'em before. Reports have it that the perpetrator of the killing's was an outsider."
David smoked the last of his cigarette, putting it out in the ashtray on the reception desk. The Englishman took this minute to think hard, or at least pretend to. Vic kept watching closely, the Pinkerton still shooting him curious looks but staying mainly on David.
"As I say, memory is fuzzy, Agent." David replied, feigning ignorance, "And given this establishment is a hotel, meant for the purpose of housing visitors, most of our customers and clients are outsider's."
Wilson then found himself a loss for words, which both Vic and David took note of. The agent looked as pissed off as ever and stared at both men. He even glared at Shelly, who was just sitting logging the hotel's accounts.
"You fuckin' lying to me, Mr. Anderson?" The agent asked through a clenched jaw.
David put on a false confused face, looked at Vic and then back to Wilson, "No. Of course not, Agent. As you can see by my companion here, I am very law abiding gentleman."
Wilson kept staring, this time more so at Vic. The Tumbleweed Deputy found it no problem returning the eyes, which only led to the Pinkerton walking over to him, not even looking at David as he passed him by.
"You don't look like one of us." Wilson remarked, checking Vic up and down, "But you don't look like you're from around this place either."
"Deputy from Tumbleweed, Agent." Vic replied, "Deputy Vic Noble."
Wilson scoffed, "Deputy from where?"
"Tumbleweed. Town out west in New Austin."
"Never heard of it myself."
"Yeah, probably 'cause you Pinkerton boys don't like doin' business out there. You leave it all to people like me." Vic replied, with a cynical smirk.
Wilson gritted his teeth once again but this time it was beyond a similar grin to the one Vic was giving him. David watched them both closely, as did Shelly too. The encounter seemed to them rather tense.
"What exactly are you here lookin' for, Deputy?" Wilson asked, feeling he had the right.
"Could ask you the same thing, Agent." Vic replied, blankly, the smirk gone.
"I'm looking to take down the evil, deranged piece of filth that killed the innocent people here." Wilson replied with ease. The Pinkerton didn't care who he revealed his business to, because nobody could interfere.
"Ah... Just so happens that I'm here on the same job." Vic then grinned, "Maybe I'll send you some mail if I come across him first. You got an address?"
Wilson laughed quietly. He was above working with a simple deputy, let alone a deputy from a place nobody even knew existed. For all the Pinkerton knew, Vic could've been bullshitting him. Maybe Tumbleweed wasn't even a real place. Perhaps this mysterious Deputy was leading him astray.
Instead of humouring Vic any longer, Agent Wilson turned and started heading for the door again, giving David almost less attention as he passed him again.
"I'll let you continue your own investigation, Deputy Noble. I don't need any interference with mine. Do hope yours is goin' well though." Wilson said looking back, with no honesty at all.
Vic smiled again and took a drag of his smoke, "Rest assured, Agent Wilson. If I find Roland Payne before you, I'll send him your kind regards."
Wilson stopped in the doorway and glanced back again with a grin, "Never heard that name before, Deputy. I'm after a young man named Sawyer."
Vic's smile fell in a flash and he almost coughed on his cigarette, something he hadn't done since he was a teenager. Even David looked confused at the Pinkerton's revelation. Saying he'd never heard of Roland Payne had to be a lie, Vic thought. How could he possibly not have heard of Roland and be after just Sawyer instead? And it was at that moment Vic worked it out. Didn't take him long at all. He'd heard many bad stories about the Pinkerton's, but only then did he start believing them. Agent Wilson was after Sawyer, pretending not to know Roland Payne, because he was working with Roland Payne.
"Be seein' you." Wilson then said, sneering and casually saluting before marching out the door.
Vic stood frozen, still stunned. All he could do was finish his smoke and wonder what his next move had to be. If his job wasn't already pretty hard, it had just been made a damn lot harder.