Title: The Story of Boston Bound, part 3 of 4
Author: Tipper
Disclaimer: See part one
The Story of Boston Bound
Part three
"I was here, in the parlour, when she screamed," Ezra explained dully, his eyes focused on the bright fire blazing in the hotel's front parlour. Everyone had been moved down here when Buck went to fetch Silace, the undertaker. Annabel and Lacey both sat in the plush chairs in front of the fire, while Vin and John Street sat in a couple of hard-backed chairs. Ezra stood before the fire, hands behind his back, while Nathan and BB stood off to one side, the healer's arms still around her trembling body. Josiah, Chris, JD, the hotel manager, the night manager Mr. Sykes, and Wallace Milton all stood in various positions of repose around the room. Ezra continued at Chris's prompting.
"I ran up the stairs, followed closely by Mr. Sykes. When we got to the room, it was to find Mrs. Weller standing over the body, knife in her hand."
"I found him just lying there," BB whispered. "The knife sticking out of him." She closed her mouth, her trembling lips shut in a thin line.
"She had it in her hands when I got there," Ezra stated again, glancing at her, the implication of the remark clear.
"I…I pulled it out," she explained, meeting his cool gaze. "I don't know why. It just…I was…maybe I thought…I don't know what I was thinking."
"Shh," Nathan soothed, still holding her close and drawing her attention away from the gambler, all the while shooting daggers at Ezra. "No one is blaming you here."
"Keep going Ezra," Chris stated.
Ezra nodded, and refocused his eyes on the fire. "While Mr. Sykes tried to console Mrs. Weller, I took the knife from her and went to examine the body, hence the blood on my clothes. From the amount of blood on the floor, it looked as if he'd been dead awhile. When I looked up again, I saw that Nathan had taken over from Mr. Sykes, and that both the Streets and the Miltons were now in the room. Moments later, Vin was there, and then the rest of you." He finished his recital, and fell into silence.
"Mrs. Weller?" Chris turned to the young woman, hoping she was ready to answer questions now. He'd started with Ezra, hoping to give her enough time to get over the shock. "You feel up to telling me what happened, yet?"
BB looked up, stared blankly into Chris's eyes. "I was asleep in the bedroom with the doors closed. I never even heard Charlie come in. He was gone all night, having left me alone after dinner. I got up to get a drink of water, and when I walked into the room, I saw him there. I screamed. That's…that's all I know. I never heard anything." She shook her head, and buried it in Nathan's chest.
"Well, then, Nathan, perhaps you can tell me what you saw," Chris said.
"It was as Ezra described. He was kneeling over the body, knife in hand when I arrived. I took BB from Mr. Sykes, and then the rest of you came in." He watched Ezra carefully, but the gambler was completely quiet. Nathan shrugged, "On first glance, I thought that Ezra had done it, but then, looks are obviously deceiving." He said this in retaliation for Ezra's comment about seeing the knife in BB's hands. Again, Ezra ignored him, but in his chair, Vin flinched. Chris sighed.
"Well, then, fine. Nathan, I need you two to go and confer with Silace. Try to figure out when Weller died, and see what else you can learn." Nathan straightened up, preparing to argue that he didn't want to leave Boston, but Chris waved him off. "I'm sure that the Miltons and the Streets can take care of Mrs. Weller, Nathan." His tone brooked no argument, and Nathan grimaced, nevertheless he did as he was told and went to join Silace upstairs.
"Vin, JD, I want you to make sure there were no strangers hanging about anywhere – check the stables, the livery, and anywhere else you might think pertinent. Might also be a good idea to check the snow around the hotel, see if there might be anything around."
"Some bloody footprints would be nice," JD quipped, earning him a look from the man in black.
Vin snorted, but he nodded. "Sure thing, cowboy." With a glance at Ezra, he stood, placed his hat on his head, and silently left the room with JD in tow. Chris turned to his final two peacekeepers, noting that Josiah had moved to stand closer to the gambler, his stance protective.
"Ezra, you and Josiah go and fetch Carl and Sarah Weathers from the Potters."
"What?" The word came from several sources, including both Miltons and Ezra. The gambler looked at his leader in complete astonishment.
"You heard me. I want them here. We need to get to the bottom of this before anyone can leave town, and I want all the players where I can see them."
"What do you mean, all the players? What does this have to do with Carl and Sarah?" Lacey asked, looking worriedly at her husband. He kept his own dark eyes downcast. Chris didn't answer, just looked at Josiah. Ezra was looking with some confusion at the old couple, wondering how they also knew of the Weathers.
"They may be sleeping, Brother Larabee," the preacher said, knowing that Chris was not going to explain anything yet.
"I highly doubt that, Josiah. For one thing, they live next door, and, as we well know, BB's screams carried much farther than that. For another, very few people sleep well after imbibing an entire bottle of Red Eye." He sneered, indicating he was talking from experience. Josiah exhaled deeply, and tilted his head at Ezra. The gambler moved to follow him, and Chris took his arm as he walked past, stopping him.
"I expect you to come back with them."
Ezra didn't flinch, his face impassive. "I was hoping to change my clothes," he muttered.
"No. I'll have JD bring you some new ones, but I don't want you going anywhere except the mercantile and back here."
Ezra's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. He was a suspect. He shook off Chris's arm and went to join an uncomfortable looking Josiah by the door. The preacher raised a hand to place on the younger man's shoulder as Ezra went past, then, with a resigned look on his face, let his hand fall back to his side.
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Once he had everyone in one place, Chris allowed them all to go get some sleep, with a warning that he planned to start his inquisition in the morning. BB went with Lacey and Wallace Milton. Ezra had fallen asleep on the couch in the parlour, with Josiah asleep in one of the chairs. The hotel manager had put Carl and Sarah in a spare room, where they were probably still awake. Buck and JD had asked the rest of the guests to return to their rooms, promising information in the morning, then taken up the role of guarding the front and back door. The night manager stood behind his desk, shakily trying to read a book, but finding himself unable to get through even a single paragraph.
Vin shook the snow from his boots and went to join Nathan and Chris sitting at one of the tables in the restaurant half of the hotel. Chris looked up as he approached, the rings under his eyes making his normally gaunt face seem even darker.
"What did you find out?"
"There's nothing out there, pard. Whoever did this, my guess is he's still here."
"Figured as much."
"What did you find out Nathan?" Vin asked, looking to the healer.
"From what me and Silace can piece together, Charlie probably died a couple of hours before Boston found him, based on the amount of blood he'd lost. Chris said he saw Charlie going out for a walk some time around seven thirty or so, which is also about the same time that Boston said he left her alone in the room. That might be the last time anyone saw him alive. Well, except the murderer." Nathan pursed his lips.
"Anything else?"
"There weren't no signs of a struggle, which is odd. Either it was someone stronger than Weller, or someone really quick. But even if he were caught by surprise, he should have fought some, or at least called out. Only explanation is that it had to be someone strong enough to stop him from fighting, who knew where to strike."
"Rules out the women, then," Vin mused.
"Yeah…I guess."
"You guess? Is there something more?"
"Nope. Well…no, not really." Nathan clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, as if afraid to say something.
"What?"
"All that blood…" Nathan licked his teeth with his tongue, trying to make sense of his words.
"He was stabbed, Nathan, many times. Lots of blood everywhere kinda goes with that." Vin supplied, grimacing slightly at the gruesomeness of the subject.
Nathan gave him the fisheye, then looked back at Chris. "No, its not the quantity that bothered me. It was the blood itself. There was something strange about it."
Chris frowned, and leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
"I…" Nathan's brow furrowed, and he shrugged. "Aw hell, I'm so tired, I don't know what I mean. It just seemed a bit unreal. Course, this whole thing is unreal." He shook his head.
"Well, then, I suggest we all get some rest. Tomorrow we'll interview each one of the suspects individually, and hopefully figure this out." Chris looked up, and noticed that Nathan was rubbing his nose tiredly. "Nathan, I would like to talk to BB after I talk to the managers. You think you could warn her when she wakes up tomorrow?"
Nathan nodded, and sighed. When he looked up, it was to find Chris still staring at him sadly. He tensed his jaw.
"Then I guess you'll be needing to talk to me after her," the healer noted.
Chris simply nodded. "I'm sorry Nate. But you know how this works. I want you staying here tonight. I had the hotel manager set up a cot for you in the front parlour, where Ezra and Josiah are."
Nathan just nodded. "Well, then I guess I'll go and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning." He stood, stretched, and sidled off. Vin watched him disappear into the lobby, then looked at Chris.
"You don't really suspect him, do you?"
Chris just looked at Vin, and shrugged. Vin looked away, clearly annoyed at the gunslinger's lack of faith.
"Ezra is a suspect too, you know. I don't hear you sticking up for him," Chris said.
Vin swiveled gray eyes to meet Chris's dark ones, their depths unreadable. He looked as if he were warring with himself beneath that tense face. Finally, he appeared to come to a conclusion.
"The knife," he whispered, then paused and licked his lips. "I saw it earlier. Ezra had it."
Chris's eyebrows shot up, and he digested this slowly. "Certainly makes him look bad, huh," he suggested, watching Vin closely. The tracker frowned, and shook himself slightly. After a moment, he stood up and grabbed his hat from off the table.
"I think I'm going to get some sleep too," Vin said abruptly. "Reckon there's a few free beds at the boarding house this night. You coming?"
"Nah. Hotel manager put a cot in the parlour for me too."
Vin just nodded, and moved to the door. He stopped when he reached the entrance to the lobby, and turned around. For a moment, the turbulence in his eyes had faded to calm, as something in him chose a side.
"They're both innocent, Chris, both Nathan and Ezra," he announced. "Both of 'em," he repeated, more to himself than to his best friend, and left. Chris eyed the empty doorway, sighed, and put a hand to his throbbing forehead.
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Once again the sun rose in a blinding fashion, scalding the small town with its light. Icicles fell from eaves, showering any unlucky passers-by with water and ice. The townsfolk stayed beneath the porch covers, avoiding the wet slush that swirled with the mud on the road. Inez pushed open the doors of the saloon to let in the fresh air, amazed at the warmth of the air. The snow would be all but gone tomorrow.
The occupants of the hotel were awake before the sun rose, preparing the kitchens to fetch breakfast and to heat the water for the guest's baths. The night manager stood and stretched from behind his desk, and looked up as he saw the man in black emerge from the parlour.
"Mr. Sykes," Chris called, "are you off duty yet?"
"Any minute now, Mr. Larabee."
"Good. I need to ask you some questions. But first, can you go and fetch the hotel manager for me?"
Sykes inclined his head, and went to knock on his boss's door. The hotel manager opened the wooden door on the first knock, fully dressed and clearly lacking in sleep. The night manager opened his mouth to explain the knock, but the hotel manager waved him aside. Straightening his shoulders, he patted Sykes familiarly on the arm, and followed Chris into the wakening restaurant. He would be the first.
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Vin joined Chris and Buck in the restaurant just as Sykes walked out. The tracker slumped into a chair, a toothpick in his mouth. He himself had had breakfast at the saloon, but was not surprised to see empty plates in front of both gunslingers.
"So, what have you got so far?" he asked.
Buck looked up from the notepad he'd been writing on. "So far we've only talked to the two managers, and they've given us, as best they can, a list of everyone's movements. The hotel manager also spoke to all the bellhops and waiters for confirmation." He tapped the pad, and slid it across to the tracker. Vin glanced at it, then looked up.
"Why don't you just tell me, rather than making me try and make sense of these chicken scratchings?" he suggested, a smile on his lips. Buck sneered at the slight, a retort ready on his lips, but Chris laid a hand on his arm. He didn't feel like listening to them spar this morning.
"From what we've gathered, Charlie Weller only left the hotel twice yesterday. Once in the early afternoon, for some purpose we don't know, and then once after dinner. No one saw him return. As Sykes was by his desk most of the night, Weller must've used the back stairs coming back in," the black-clad gunslinger began. "BB Weller left once only, around noon, when she went to see Nathan. That I know because I saw her go."
Vin shifted in his seat, "I, uh, know where Weller went in the afternoon." He looked up, and then just as quickly looked away. "He met Ezra in the alley between the hotel and the merc. And, I'm not sure, but he may have met Ezra again sometime after dinner." He shrugged, indicating that he had been in the saloon with the rest of them at that time. Chris watched him for a moment, then tilted his head.
"You know why?"
"Yep. But I think you should ask Ezra that."
Buck frowned, not liking the off hand way in which Vin was talking about their friend. He glanced at Chris, and saw that his old friend didn't look too surprised at the news. He frowned even more deeply.
"Whatever the why of it, I'm sure Ez had a good reason." The ladies man asserted. The other two looked at him, but didn't respond.
"Anyway," Chris continued, "the other two couples who arrived with them, the Miltons and the Streets, went out a bit yesterday, but mostly stayed in their rooms. At the time Weller was supposedly killed, they were apparently asleep. One of the bellhops says he brought them each nightcaps around ten o'clock."
"That just leaves our boys," Vin said, pretending to be reading the pad to avoid looking Chris and Buck in the eye.
"Ezra arrived in the hotel some time after dinner, and went to sit in the parlour. He left at some point, but Sykes missed him leaving, meaning it must have been at a time when Sykes was away from the desk. Sykes also doesn't know when he returned – said he was surprised when Ezra appeared from out the parlour when BB screamed."
"And Nathan?"
"Nathan arrived in the hotel around eight. He went upstairs to see BB…. Sykes said he seemed very drunk. He came down about an hour later and left. Then he returned a few minutes later with his black medical bag, went upstairs, stayed approximately five minutes, then left again."
"Couldn't have gotten very far. He got here before the rest of us when BB screamed, including Vin who was on patrol," Buck noted.
"Is that everyone?" Vin asked. "What about the Weathers? You must have brought them here for a reason?"
"I did. Mrs. Potter told me that they and the Miltons had an argument yesterday, and it concerned Weller. When JD talked to her last night, saying he was looking for strangers, she told him that she thought someone had been to see Carl and Sarah last night, maybe around ten. She didn't see who, just heard them going up and down the back stairs. Said she also heard arguing, but was so tired from the long day, she didn't hear what was said. Besides, Carl and Sarah live two floors up, and Mrs. Potter was on the ground floor with the children. Man, Vin, you should have seen the way she stood when I asked her if she eavesdropped. She looked at me like I'd just asked if she'd committed one of the seven deadly sins." The gunslinger cracked his first smile since yesterday; it was brief, but a smile nonetheless. He shrugged, "In any case, I brought the Weathers here because it all seemed a bit too coincidental."
"Hmm," Buck had picked up his fork, and was tapping it against the table. "Then I guess we'd best ask everyone what they have to say for themselves. Nathan should have had enough time to wake up and go and alert BB by now. Why don't you go see."
The tracker nodded, and left the table. A waitress wandered up and took away the dishes, flashing a smile at the ladies man. Buck grinned back, but it fell as soon as she left. He looked at Chris.
"A lot of suspects, huh," he noted, watching his old friend out of the corner of his eye as he continued to play with the fork, "Mrs. Weller, the two couples, Carl and Sarah….Nathan and Ezra."
"Yup," came the non-committal reply.
Buck threw the fork down, "Oh come on, Chris! You know our boys didn't do it! Damn it, tell me you know that!"
Chris looked at Buck, the coldness in his manner clear, "Are you sure they're not capable?"
Buck's blue eyes widened, and he gritted his teeth. "Just tell me one thing, Chris, If it were me in that parlour, or Vin, would you be so quick to assume the worst?"
Chris looked Buck straight in the eye, "And if it were me?"
Buck shook his head, and looked out the window, at the brightness streaming between the heavy curtains. "If you have to ask that, Chris, then I guess I have my answer." Slowly, Buck got to his feet and stepped away from the table to the window.
Chris looked down at the table, and shut his eyes. It would be a long day. The sound of someone clearing their throat made him look up to the doorway. Nathan stood there, holding tight to BB Weller's hand.
"Ready?" Nathan asked.
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Boston Bound Weller held tightly to the locket at her throat, and swallowed harshly. Her eyes remained unfocused where they stared at the tablecloth, the sounds around her becoming muffled as if she were underwater. A tap from Buck woke her enough to look around, but nothing about this moment seemed real. Chris repeated his question, and she blinked.
"Nathan," she said, wiping a tear from her face with the back of a shaking hand, "I love Nathan. From the moment I met him, I wanted to just be with him. But I couldn't then. There was the war, and the railroad, and so much else. Love may be…important, but it is nothing compared to what is important to our people. Nothing when compared to what matters. I made my choice when I left Nathan the first time."
"And now?"
"Now? Now, I don't know. I married Charlie because he was so alive, and I felt nearly dead. He was so powerful and free – everything I craved. I know that I did not love him, but, for all those years after the war before we came here, he was the world to me…the world and everything it can promise. I don't know what I'm going to do without him." The tears fell more freely now, and Buck gave her his handkerchief. She accepted it gratefully, holding it to her face, willing herself to find the strength that she used to own in so much abundance. She shook as she realized that she couldn't remember the last time she felt that strength.
"Why did Charlie hit you?" Chris asked, gently drawing the handkerchief away from her face to better see the bruises.
"He…He…I'm not sure. It is not the first time. I don't know if it was because of Nathan, or because of the southerner, but he was so angry when he came to bed the first night we were here. I don't even try and duck anymore."
Buck stared out into the lobby, unable to keep the thought that he was glad Weller was dead out of his mind. Chris just nodded, and wrote a few more things down on the little notepad. When he looked up, his face was amazingly calm.
"Can you tell me what happened yesterday?"
BB nodded, "I went to see Nathan in the morning, to tell him…that I wouldn't be able to see him again. Then I went back to my room. Charlie was there, pacing nervously. He barely acknowledged my presence. When the clock struck noon, he left." She shrugged, she had no idea where he had gone or why.
"He came back some time later, and locked himself in the bedroom for the rest of the day. At six or so, he went down to dinner. I told him I wasn't feeling well, partly because of…" she brushed a hand across her still ugly bruises, and the two men questioning her nodded. "He came back around seven thirty or so, grabbed his coat, and walked out the door. I didn't see him again until…" She shivered.
"What else happened last night?"
BB looked up, her eyes focusing on Chris for an instant, then she looked down again. "Nathan came to see me."
"Keep going."
"It was…maybe an hour after Charlie left. Nathan had been drinking. He wanted me to run away with him," she sniffed, and smiled. "But I couldn't. I was…afraid. And Charlie had my word." She shrugged. "Nathan stayed for an hour, at the end of which, I suppose the alcohol had loosed its grip. I was so distraught, and he suggested I get some sleep. I told him I didn't think I would sleep well, not with everything that was happening. So he left, and then returned with some sleeping powder. He told me to mix it with some water, and then I would sleep better. When he left this time, I did as he told me. I think that may be why I never heard Charlie return. Or, whoever killed him." She sniffed again, and used the handkerchief to wipe her face.
"After that, I guess I must have woken. I was so thirsty – a side effect of the powder, I guess – so I went to get some water from the pitcher on the table in the outer room." She paused, and glanced at the faces around her. Buck and Chris sat at the table, neither man looking at her. Vin sat by the window, his elbow resting on the sill, staring at the outside. "The rest, you know," she finished.
"Yes," Chris said, looking up from his notepad. "Thank you, Mrs. Weller. Could you send in Nathan next?"
BB nodded, and stood. All three lawmen stood with her, and she smiled slightly at the chivalry. With low shoulders and a bowed head, she left the room.
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Unlike BB, Nathan stared his inquisitors straight in the eye, almost daring them to disagree with anything he said. He'd already told them how he and BB met, and about the meeting this afternoon. Now they asked if he could confirm what Boston had told them about the evening.
"The bruises on her face were hurting her, giving her a headache, not surprisingly. And, I have to admit, my presence obviously wasn't helping," he said, a little contritely. "When I realized that she would never leave him, I understood that I had lost her. She may have loved me once, and maybe still does to a degree, but the Boston Bound I knew died in the war. In the past." He took a deep breath, and watched their reactions. Buck and Vin both looked sympathetic, probably both knowing well what it was like to know someone once and have them be a different person years later, but Chris's face was cool. All he did was take notes on that colorless pad.
"So you brought her some sleeping powder?" Chris asked.
"Yes. I showed her how much to use, and then gave it to her."
"And then she drank it?"
"I mixed it myself, Chris."
"That is not what I asked."
"I…yes, I saw her drink it," Nathan frowned, unhappy with the questioning. Chris simply sighed.
"And what did you do afterwards?"
For the first time, Nathan appeared uncomfortable. "I went for a walk."
Chris looked up, and glanced at Vin before looking back at the healer. "A walk? For how long? And did anyone see you?"
Nathan shook his head. "No. I knew Vin was around somewhere, but I wanted to be alone for a while, you know? So I went out into the meadows, and made it all the way to that big rock that lies above the fishing hole on the river. I stayed there until the clock stuck midnight, then I walked back. I guess I must be a glutton for punishment, because I walked up to the hotel before going home. I couldn't have been standing there for more than a few minutes when I heard BB scream." He shrugged. "I had a fire going out by the fishing hole. Fire pit should still be there, and probably still warm. I know that won't mean much as proof goes, but…"
"Don't worry about it Nathan. We believe you." Buck said, his voice firm. Over by the window, Vin nodded. Nathan relaxed a bit under their assurances, though he was keenly aware when Chris didn't echo the sentiment. The man in black just kept scratching away at that notepad with his pencil.
"I think that's everything, Nathan," Vin said, standing. "Could you send in Carl and Sarah next?"
The healer nodded, and turned to leave. He stopped when he reached the door. "I don't know who did this, Chris, but, for all that BB may be a different person now, I know she didn't kill her husband. Besides not having it in her to murder anyone, she worshipped Weller, for all the good it did her. And then there was the sleeping powder. It would have knocked her out for hours, Chris. She would have been well under its spell when Charlie was killed." He waited a moment, for Chris to acknowledge him. Finally, the gunslinger looked up, and nodded. Nathan sighed, and took hold of the door handle.
"Oh wait, Nathan. Did you ever figure out what it was about that blood that seemed odd to you?" Chris queried, his voice cool.
Nathan stopped, and looked again into those steel eyes, as if searching for something. "No," he said at last. Chris nodded, and Nathan left. Chris scribbled some more on his notepad.
"Buck, could you go and get Silace for me?"
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Ezra entered the room slowly, turning and shutting the door behind him with a deliberateness he usually only showed when he was holding a gun. He hadn't any weapons on him now, not because he was told not to carry them, but because he was showing them that he didn't need them. He stood by the door, his hands behind his back, waiting to be summoned to the table.
From the window, Vin glanced at him, then looked away. He watched the busy street, aware that people were more mobile now that the snow was mostly gone. The sun beat down unmercifully, taking it all away.
At the table, Chris tapped his pencil on the pad and eyed the gambler. When it was clear Ezra wasn't going to come forward without some prompting, he sighed.
"I'm not in the mood to yell across the room, Ezra," he said quietly. Ezra pursed his lips, then moved stiffly over to the table, every step looking as if it was causing him pain. By the time he sat down, Vin was wincing.
"Well," Ezra said, "this is certainly interesting. I thought I was to have three judges, has Buck left me to the wolves?"
Vin winced again, but Chris didn't flinch. Instead, the gunslinger simply shook his head.
"Hardly judges, Ezra. We're just trying to figure out what happened."
"Buck went to fetch Silace," Vin added quietly.
At that same moment, Buck burst through the door with an unhappy looking Silace in tow. Of course, Silace rarely looked happy, but he seemed even more perturbed this morning.
"Excuse me a minute, Ezra," Chris said, standing up. He joined the two by the door, and Chris asked some hushed questions. After a minute, Silace answered him, paused, then nodded and left. Buck and Chris returned to the table. Ezra furrowed his brow, but waited until they sat down.
"So what do you want to know?" Ezra asked, refusing to wait any longer.
"Everything. How you know Charlie Weller, everything that happened last night, how the knife Vin saw you with ended up in Weller's body…." Chris's voice was a monotone, and the gambler tensed his jaw. He glanced at Vin when Chris mentioned the knife, understanding now the black look from last night.
Leaning back in his chair, the gambler steepled his fingers and prepared himself. He hated talking about his past, they all did, but, as Ezra reminded himself, the past is not the present. He just hoped that his friends, if that was indeed what they were, would know that who he was then was not who he was now. He sighed at the uselessness of the thought.
"Alright….You may have had occasion to learn that my mother and I once possessed a riverboat casino on the Mississippi," he began.
"The Bella Donna?" Vin remembered.
"No…well, yes, we owned her too, but the boat to which I refer was the Mississippi Glory." He smiled, his mind drifting over her stately bow and white terraced sides. He'd never seen her equal.
"She was probably one of the most beautiful steamers on the river, and, without question, one of the wealthiest. My mother and I worked one of the most expensive cons we've ever run to claim her, but she gave all that back, and more. For the three years that we ran her up and down the river, she was home. The first I'd ever known in my twelve years of my life. It was also the longest period of time I've ever spent with my mother…" He stopped, and looked up, realizing he had drifted. The three men watching him sat quietly, not wanting to break his mood. With a sharp intake of breath, he straightened up in his seat and resumed his story.
"Because she was a casino ship, you might say that the Mississippi Glory ran somewhat under the radar of the local law enforcement. Consequently, we had several side businesses going on besides gambling, including some cargo shipping, a tourist trade, and some others. The only one that never made us any money was the fact that we, uh, we took some passengers…some railroad passengers." He paused, pursing his lips, his expression caught between pride, ambivalence and embarrassment.
"Railroad?" Chris raised an eyebrow, already knowing the answer. Where he grew up in Illinois he'd been more than aware of the "railroad passengers" heading North to Canada via the lakes. His mother had let some stay in the house occasionally. Buck and Vin, however, looked unsure.
"The, uh, underground railroad," Ezra specified, looking down, knowing that this would surprise the others and not wanting to see their reactions. Buck actually lost control of the fork he'd been playing with, and it flipped upward to arc in a silvery circle before falling to the floor. He apologized quietly as he bent to retrieve it. Vin was simply watching Ezra like a hawk now, while Chris frowned. Ezra sighed, some arrogance slipping into his tone now that the fact was out. He sounded bored as he continued.
"Now, I was never particularly fond of the business myself, but mother…well, you may have figured out by now that she has never been one for the status quo." He shrugged, his eyes focused on his fingers. "Mother despised slavery. She used to say it was bad for the economy, all that free labor messing with the laws of healthy competition. Besides, no one should ever own another person. That's also why she hates marriage so much…least the ones that she's been in." He was smiling now, warming to his topic.
"But the reality of it is, my mother simply does not understand racism. She thinks anyone who judges people by how they look is a fool. She'd gotten enough of that herself growing up, though, of course, she learned how to make a profit from it." He snorted a little, and looked up.
"So we ran slaves up the river, stowed in the hold. Usually only about ten at a time, trapped in a little room near the boilers, behind a hidden door that only I and my mother knew about. I had the onerous task of bringing them food and drink, and, in the middle of the night, I allowed them out to walk a bit about the ship. 'Course I never spoke to them," he looked up at the chandelier. "I regret much of my treatment of them now. I was never mean, you understand, but I…I did ignore them. For some reason, I couldn't ever look any of them in the eye." He shook his head, and shut his eyes. When he opened them again, they were back in the present. He looked directly at Chris.
"The contact for our part in the railroad, the conductor in charge, was Charlie Weller."
This time, when Buck dropped the fork, he didn't bother to pick it up. Ezra smiled crookedly at him. Vin got up from his chair by the window and joined them at the table, resting his elbow on the table cloth and cupping his chin in his hand. For his part, Chris just kept writing on his pad. He looked up after a moment and nodded to Ezra to continue.
"As far as I know, Charlie worked out of Saint Louis. He paid us out of the money from the various Vigilance Committees that existed there and across the river in Illinois. He gave us times and places and names, and we followed his directions. We generally picked people up near Memphis and, for about a month, carried them until we reached Saint Louis. During the night after we'd docked in Missouri, a boat would silently make its way across from Illinois, hook up with us, and we passed the fugitives on to them to be taken to freedom. I never learned what happened to any of them once they left the ship."
"When was this?" Vin asked.
"The late fifties, a few years before the war broke out. The Mississippi Glory was but a memory when South Carolina seceded."
"So what happened?"
"Let's just say that Charlie Weller was not the saint his wife believed him to be," Ezra snarled, unable to help himself. "At some point in our second year, my mother became aware that the amount of money Charlie paid us was less than what the Vigilance Committees were giving him to pay us. He was skimming money for himself. Had been all along. She considered doing something, and, indeed, I told her she should, but, for some reason, she never did. At least, if she did, she never told me about it," he shrugged. "Then, in the third year, while walking around Saint Louis, I happened to come across a market." His lips curled into a sneer, recalling all those faces.
"I was just going to pass by, when I recognized the face of one of the girls being auctioned. It was the same face that I'd handed over to Charlie Weller the day before." He shook a little, the anger he'd felt then boiling up again. "I tried to buy her, but I had nowhere near enough money. Afterwards, I sought out the man who ran the market and asked him where he'd gotten the girl. Since I was barely fourteen at the time, he simply laughed at me, and told me not to be worried about such things as the darkies. Said that even their own kind were selling themselves out." He frowned again, his eyes narrowing.
"When I told my mother this, she told me I must have misunderstood. And, for the longest time, I let it go. After all, I figured, what did I care, so long as Weller continued to pay us? Besides, other than that off hand comment, I had no proof…until Sarah and Carl came on board."
"Our Sarah and Carl?" Buck queried.
Ezra nodded. "Although, at the time, they were Sarah and Carl Weller."
Chris raised his hand to stop Ezra, and looked at Buck. "Go get them."
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Sarah gripped Carl's hand in both of hers as they entered the room. They glanced across at the gambler, and Ezra nodded at them. Carl nodded back while Sarah looked at the floor. She appeared to be shivering a little, and Buck got up to offer her his coat. Carl held his hand up to stop him, his face stony. The ladies man shrugged and sat back down.
"Carl, Sarah, please join us," Chris said, indicating the empty chairs that had been brought up to the table. For some reason, Carl looked at Ezra before coming over. The gambler slumped his shoulders slightly and looked away. Carl sighed, then, half dragging a clearly lost looking Sarah behind him, moved to join them at the table.
"Your last name was Weller," Chris stated, earning a flinch from the black man. Sarah moaned slightly, and looked accusingly at the gambler. From out of somewhere, Ezra had pulled a pack of cards and was casually shuffling them to avoid her gaze.
"Yes," Carl noted, "but we weren't related to Charlie. We just happened to be sold by the same person – Captain Terrance Weller. So, our title papers had Weller as our last name. When the war was over, we changed it to Weathers."
"And, you and Charlie Weller came from the same farm?"
"Ranch, not farm. On the border of Louisiana and Texas somewhere. Big for what it was, had more n' fifty slaves did our master. His name was Carson. Ugly bastard."
"Most were," Ezra agreed, slapping a card into the deck. Chris ignored him.
"Keep going." The gunslinger prompted.
"Well, Charlie was always the one in charge of us, like he was our leader or something. He tried to get us to revolt after that big rebellion in South Carolina, but most of us had heard about what the state did afterwards – expelling abolitionists and making harsher laws for us slaves. We didn't want to risk it. But he was always kinda heroic to us, Charlie was, with all his talking and preaching. When he run off, it was a real blow for everyone. Well, everyone 'cept Sarah." He looked at his wife, and she leaned into his arm, burying her head slightly.
"Go on, Sarah, tell them," he urged.
"I can't," she whispered, "I'm sorry."
Carl grimaced, but his face wasn't surprised. "Well, I ain't afraid. Charlie used to chase Sarah all around like she was his. She put up with it for a while, cause everyone told her that he was the best man for her, but by then…well, she was already in love with me." He grinned briefly, proudly, then it faded. "Course, its not like we were allowed to get married, or anything, and none of the others really supported us when Sarah tried to tell Charlie." He shrugged. "Well, in the end it didn't matter, cause he run soon after that, and we never thought we'd see him again." He sighed.
"A few years later, he came back. He was a conductor, and he came to help steal some of us away, those who were brave enough to go. He got Lacey and Wallace out first, them being old. Then he got out some others, about a year later. By this time, the war was on the horizon, and we all knew it. But me and Sarah wanted to take our chances anyway. Sarah was pregnant then, and we didn't want the baby taken from us. Charlie promised us safe passage, said he was still in love with Sarah. Said he would never do anything to hurt her, even if it meant putting up with me." Carl snorted, but didn't stop. "In the end, it wasn't he who came to get us, but it didn't matter. And when we got on the Glory, we thought we were free." He looked at Ezra, who hadn't bothered to add anything. "It was a beautiful ship, Mr. Standish."
"Yes, it was," Sarah agreed. Ezra simply nodded, not looking up from his cards.
"For that whole month in that hold, we were hidden. Only Mr. Standish, coming with food, broke the monotony. Then the night we were supposed to dock in Saint Louis, he brought us new clothes and we all bathed in the bath he brought us."
"Damn, Ez, you were a clothes freak even as a kid," Buck giggled.
"Your ignorance amazes me sometimes, Mr. Wilmington." Ezra chastised, earning him a frown from the ladies man.
Carl shrugged, "New clothes were part of the journey. The tattered clothes we lived in would have given us away immediately, and with the strengthening of the Fugitive Slave Act…Well anyway, he needn't have bothered."
"They raided the ship the day we docked. All those Marshals," Sarah shivered, and Ezra paused his shuffling. The gambler sighed heavily, and looked at Chris.
"The Marshals were there when we arrived," Ezra said. "No warning. They boarded the Mississippi Glory, and destroyed her. They hacked through walls looking for the hidden room, and, one of them, I don't know which, 'accidentally' dropped his cigar in the laundry room. She went up like a tinderbox. Of course we had to get you and the others out of that little room…" He looked at Sarah, his face sad. She had her eyes closed.
"Right into the arms of the Sheriff, one of Carson's foremen, and a handful of his ranch hands," Carl noted darkly.
"The Mississippi Glory went down in flames, and my mother and I were arrested for harboring fugitives. Insurance didn't kick in because we were felons, so we lost everything 'cept the clothes we were wearing. We escaped during the night, with the help of some of the Vigilance Committee, and went west. Mother took me to San Francisco, and dropped me off. She said it would be safer for us to be apart for a while…." He trailed off, and started playing with his cards again.
"When I found her again, many years later after the war, she told me that it had been Charlie Weller who sold us out. I swore I'd have nothing to do with black people ever again." He snapped the cards in his fingers and snorted. "So much for that idea." He muttered, thinking of Nathan.
"Well, we found out about Charlie the night we were caught," Carl spat. Sarah shivered a little more, and he put his arm around her to draw her closer. "Me and Sarah were separated, which didn't make sense since we came from the same place, until I saw Charlie. Carson's foreman was paying him money…for me and the others who'd been in the hold, even though half of 'em hadn't even been Carson's slaves before hand. I knew then he had taken Sarah for himself."
"Bastard tried to keep me, but I got away from him," Sarah agreed angrily into Carl's sleeve. "Thing is, I was lost in Missouri. Didn't take long 'fore I was captured and taken to a small farm run by a family called Weathers, so I became Sarah Weathers." She blinked slightly, and wiped a hand across her face, her movements tired. "They were poor folks, not mean or anything. Didn't hit me. 'Course, they sold my baby away." She closed her eyes, her voice dull. "After the war was over, I went back to Saint Louis. Looking for Carl and trying to find my son. I remembered the names of some of the abolitionists there. They helped. But it still took years…."
"But we're here now, love," Carl whispered into her hair, kissing the top of her head. No one spoke for a while, even Chris had stopped his writing. The only sound was that of Ezra's cards as he shuffled them back and forth. Buck shifted in his seat.
"Thank you, folks," the ladies man said, reaching forward to pat Sarah on her arm. Carl glared at him. Buck pulled back and focused at some point on the table. Ezra sprayed the cards into one hand and looked up.
"Next, I would surmise that you will need to know our movements yesterday?" the gambler said.
"If you would be so kind," Chris replied snidely. He started writing again on his pad. Ezra glared at him and exhaled loudly.
"Well, as I am sure Mr. Tanner here has told you, I attempted to use my knowledge of these events to extort money from Mr. Weller."
Buck's gasp, and Chris's surprised look quickly informed Ezra of his error. The gambler recovered quickly, however, and his poker face slid into place, although his words spilled out a little faster than they had been before.
"I recognized Mr. Weller the day he arrived. Despite all he'd done, I was planning on ignoring him. But then Mr. Jackson…well, let's just say he brings out the worst in me," he grimaced, but didn't stop talking. "That night, after our resident healer haplessly 'introduced' me to Mr. Weller, I took advantage of the moment. I stole into the back of the hotel and made a proposition to the man -- my silence in return for thirty percent of his share of the ranch. Since the money he used to pay for it came partly from my own labor, I estimated that he owed me at least that much. I gave him the night to think about it." He paused, and looked over at Vin.
"The next day I met Mr. Weller in the alleyway between the Potter's mercantile and the hotel, in order to ascertain his answer -- a private conversation that Mr. Tanner obviously overheard. The man threatened me, and I took his knife. I told him I would find him later, contracts in hand to settle the deal. However," he paused, and licked his lips, his green eyes still on Vin, "when I reached the hotel that night, I was no longer as keen to complete the transaction."
"I sat in the parlour for almost an hour, though I knew that Mr. Weller was waiting for me, and, in the end, I threw the contracts into the fire. I then proceeded to go upstairs to tell Mr. Weller that I was no longer interested, but stopped when I saw Nathan going up the stairs." Pausing, he started to spin the seven of clubs around the deck.
"I waited until he left, then went up and knocked on the door. Mrs. Weller answered it quickly, probably expecting Mr. Jackson, whom, from what I've been told, returned later on. She told me that her husband had gone for a walk via the back door two hours before, and did not know when he would return. As she was obviously distraught over something, I simply gave her the knife and left, leaving by the back stairs in order that I might find a way to follow Weller. I assume Mr. Jackson returned with his sleeping powder soon after I left."
Chris frowned as he looked at his pad, and underlined something. Buck leaned over to see what it was, but Vin only had eyes for Ezra. In the background, curiosity filling them, Sarah and Carl also hung on the gambler's every word. Ezra was so intent on spinning the card, and then the one underneath it (the jack of clubs) that he barely noticed.
"What I saw frightened me. As I came out the door, I saw Mr. Weller going up the fire escape on the back of the mercantile, obviously aiming for the Weathers' abode. I swear," he looked up at the black couple, "I did not tell him you were here."
"We reckoned as much," Carl said. "Hell, until you came bursting in on us, I didn't even think you remembered who we were. No, Charlie told us it was Wallace Milton what gave us away."
Ezra looked relieved, and sunk back in his seat. Carl looked at Chris.
"Charlie was drunk, Mr. Larabee, real drunk," Carl said, taking over from Ezra. "Course, I wasn't much better. When Mr. Standish came, he found me and Charlie arguing like there weren't no tomorrow. It didn't take long for it to turn into a brawl, especially when Charlie tried to claim Sarah was his. God, I wanted him dead so bad, I was ready to throw him out the window. I even opened it up so that I wouldn't break the glass." He smiled wickedly, his white teeth biting at a piece of his bottom lip.
"If it weren't for Sarah and Mr. Standish, I might've done it too. But I didn't. Mr. Standish asked me if it was worth it to kill Weller, asked if I was willing to give Sarah up again just to beat the bastard," he shook his head slowly, and Sarah kept her eyes shut. "In the end, Mr. Standish led him out by gunpoint. He was alive, Mr. Larabee. I didn't kill him." He said the last few words vehemently, emphasizing them with a fist to the table that jarred the glasses of water sitting there.
"So, Ez, what did you do with him?" Buck asked, looking back at the Southerner. Ezra tilted his head.
"I merely took the man back to his suite, Mr. Wilmington, using the same back stairs by which we left. I believe the time to have been around ten thirty or so, and I left him in his ante room alive and well, if a bit chagrined. At the door, I told him that I would not force him to give me a piece of his fortune, so long as he promised to never defile our fair town again with his presence. He appeared to accept this. Nevertheless, I was still apprehensive that he might try again to harm the Weathers, so I went down to the parlour, planning on spending the night there with my ears open." He frowned then, his brow furrowing in confusion. He flipped over the top card on the deck to reveal the suicide king.
"I assumed, obviously erroneously, that I would be able to hear if Mr. Weller or anyone else entered or exited that room. While I did not fall asleep or otherwise lose my concentration, I must admit I was completely shocked when Mrs. Weller started to scream. I have no idea how he died, or who murdered him." He placed the cards into the pocket of his waistcoat and stood.
"Now, if there is nothing else, Mr. Larabee, Mr. Tanner and Mr. Wilmington, I plan on going and taking a bath. I fear that this episode has truly ruined both my appearance as well as my clothes. And, before you say it Mr. Larabee, I will return to this place after I have finished." He pulled his waistcoat down, adjusted his cravat, and walked to the door. The entire time he kept expecting to hear them call him back, or for Chris to place him in shackles, but neither happened. Instead, he got through the door unscathed, visibly sighing with relief as he shut it behind him.
When he looked up, he found Josiah and Nathan watching him from the entrance to the parlour.
"You okay?" The preacher asked. Ezra watched him for a moment, his face awash with all the emotions he'd held on to throughout the interview. Then, as if the question had never been asked, he walked to the front doors and out into the cold winter day. Josiah tensed his jaw and looked over at where JD was sitting at the hotel desk. JD dropped his head in his hands.
Still in the room, Carl and Sarah watched impatiently as Chris wrote. Vin was pacing, and Buck was watching him. When Chris looked up, everything stopped. He looked at the black couple.
"Thank you. You can go home now. However, if you could return this evening, say around six o'clock, I think we will be able to finish this."
Carl looked at Sarah, who had opened her eyes. She was staring at him, and nodded slowly. Carl raised an eyebrow at her, than looked back at Chris.
"Mr. Standish didn't kill Charlie, Mr. Larabee." Carl vowed. "He may not like our kind much, but he's no killer. He don't got it in him."
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The Miltons and the Streets were definitely unhelpful, both couples insisting that they were asleep at the time that Charlie was killed. Having nothing with which to gainsay them, Chris let them to leave. They also questioned all the other guests in the hotel, but, as expected, no one had seen or heard anything. They were either out at the saloon, or asleep. With a sigh, the black-clad gunslinger placed his pad on the table, and looked at his fellow peacekeepers.
Buck had flipped open his pocket watch, while Vin measured the darkening sky. It was almost six o'clock, when Chris promised everyone he would disclose their findings.
"So, what do you think?" Buck asked, leaning forward.
"Funny how the best two suspects are two of our own men. Neither have solid alibis, and both have strong motives." Vin sighed.
"Love and revenge," Chris nodded. "But not everything we've heard today adds up, boys."
"Oh?" Vin arched an eyebrow, and Buck half smiled.
"You got something Chris?" the ladies man asked.
"Maybe. But it ain't gonna be pretty."
Vin looked at the mud colored slush outside, and watched as a couple of wagons from outlying ranches rolled in for supplies. The crowds seemed subdued, and more than one person glanced over at the dark hotel with trepidation. He caught Mary and Inez speaking together over by the saloon entrance, and saw Inez's fierce head shake as Mary reached out to touch her. The manageress threw down the broom she's been holding and stalked inside. Mary looked to the hotel, then turned away, lifting her skirts slightly to avoid the muddy street as she stepped off the boardwalk to go home.
"There ain't nothing but mud out there, Chris. May as well put it to some use."
Concluded in Part Four