The Night of the Holy Oak
Part One
Okay, so there wasn't something in the water. But there might as well have been, everyone in this town was acting so queerly around him and his partner James West. It was as if they were told 'act natural' and then proceeded to go about their everyday business in an awkward sort of performance.
"Do you get the same feeling I do walking down Main Street Jim?" Artie had asked his friend while they lounged in the common room of the inn they had rented rooms in.
Jim looked up from his newspaper and nodded his head slowly. "I do." He said quietly, perhaps afraid someone was listening. "These people are hiding something from us; putting up a front of some sort."
Artie completely agreed. He was always being surprised with how he and his partner always seemed to be on the same level. "That's what I thought." He replied. He dragged his wooden chair closer to Jim, taking a look around to see if anyone was in hearing distance. Finding that the only person in the room, an old frontiersman with a scruffy beard, was sleeping noisily in the corner he proceeded. "Who could have possibly told them that two government agents were coming? How did they recognize us?" He wondered.
Jim put down his paper and took off his hat, setting it down on the table in front of them. "Don't know." He said with a frown. It had been obvious from the start that the townspeople had known that Jim and himself were coming into the town to investigate all the mysterious disappearances that had been happening in the area for months, not to mention to inspect the gold vein that had been discovered within the town limits. Washington was very interested in any new source of the precious metal. People stuttered and darted their eyes around nervously when asked a question by one of them. Women pulled their children who had been playing in the streets away from them. Shop keepers watched them like hawks when they had entered their stores to restock their supplies. Something was definitely wrong with this town.
"An informant? An insider from the government?" Artie suggested. He leaned in close to Jim.
"Personally I believe this whole disappearance issue might have something to do with that gold vein." He whispered, not wanting to wake up the old man. It was a known fact that the word 'gold' had the ability to wake anyone out of their sleep.
"I might take a little trip to see this certain land tomorrow." Jim said with a grin. "Who knows, I might strike it rich and then retire to Mexico." He stood up and stretched obnoxiously, taking up his hat again and placing it on his head. "And I'll buy you a nice new suit. I know how you hate getting yours dirty."
Artemus Gordon leaned back in his chair and stared at Jim. "You think you're so witty, don't you?"
Jim tapped the side of his nose. "I don't think so; I know so Artie." He said with a wide smile. "Come on, let's go have ourselves a shot of whiskey and maybe extract some information out of a drunk."
Artie stood up. "Oooh, I can hardly wait." He followed Jim out of the common room, noticing the bottle of something brown slip from the fingers of the old man with the beard. "Jim my boy, we need a hobby that doesn't involve turning a person into a lush."
"And as soon as I think of something you'll be the first to know." His friend muttered, staring at the empty lot down Main Street. They stared to walk towards the tavern underneath the various balconies of general shops and homes; feet making hollow empty steps on the rough wooden boardwalks. "How old do you think this town is?" Jim asked.
"It's pretty old Jim. Well, as old as it can possibly be while still remaining a frontier town" Artemus told him. "People are pretty well settled in, there's a sheriff in town, a nice little white church, even a school's built."
"So with the news of a gold rush, more people will be flocking into this town, right?" Jim said, probably thinking of the old man in the common room.
"I would think so." Artie said. "Unfavorable people probably. Gold diggers; pan handlers; prospectors; whichever term you prefer. I honestly don't think these townspeople are treasuring that thought. With prospectors usually come immigrants; and knowing the majority of the people in this town are white they're probably scared to death at the thought of a Chinese shop opening up down the road."
"And not to mention very inauspicious businesses as well." Jim added, eyes landing on the empty lot. It wasn't exactly empty; there was the air of construction about it and a large white banner suspended from two poles in the front.
Artie stared at the sign. "Future home of the Shooting Star Saloon." He read out loud. There was small print underneath, something Artie couldn't exactly make out in the dark. He began to walk towards it in order to make out the lettering below, hearing Jim's footsteps behind him. "Gambling, brothel, purveyor of fine spirits." He finished. Artemus turned to him and pointed his thumb to the sign and the empty lot. "That's not the most wholesome establishment to put in a town like this. Think they're a little angry?"
Jim grinned. "Artie, I think we've just uncovered a nice little lead to go by."
Artemus placed his hand to his chin and continued to focus on the plot. "Perhaps tomorrow I'll have a talk with the sheriff." He said, figuring that an interview with the local law enforcement would be a favorable way to kick off their little investigation while Jim snooped around at the gold vein.
"Good plan." Jim agreed as they began to walk towards the bar once again. "Are you going to go as the US Marshall with an attitude or something less dramatic?"
Artie chuckled, finding it amusing that it was his partner who was suggesting that he wore one of his many disguises. "I thought you liked my Marshall persona."
"It gets tired after a while. Time to go with something new."
"Oh, I'll think of something Jim, don't you worry about that. Now about that land that you're going to take a look at tomorrow- I think I read somewhere that it's owned by a local farmer on the outskirts. I'd try to ask him a few questions before doing anything."
"And as always your opinion on the matter is appreciated and taken into consideration." Jim said, acting slightly distanced from their conversation as he opened up the doors to the busy saloon.
"Mmhmm." Artie muttered disapprovingly. As much as he would have liked for his partner not to go about something with an illegal sort of undertone, he knew Jim would be Jim and do things his own way. "Just don't go and get yourself shot when he catches you for trespassing on his land. I fear he might have something to do with the disappearances."
The atmosphere of the tavern was generally much different than that of the town. Inside were men from all type of backgrounds; a definite change from the clean and moral front the town seemed to be catering to. No one seemed to look up when they entered, and no one seemed to take interest in them nor care who they were. Indeed, it was doubtful that these people even knew who Jim and Artie were in the first place.
They took a seat in the corner by a particularly noisy game of poker, the wobbly table making it difficult for the duo to lean into the furniture in order to discuss things further without being completely distracted. Jim decided that he had enough of the shaky table and went on his way, seeing a pretty face with green eyes staring at him from across the room. She had been sitting on top of the piano singing a couple of bars and entertaining the men folk that happened to wander in, Jim immediately charming her with one of his dashing smiles. Now it was Artie's turn to strike up a conversation.
Hopelessly frustrated with the unbalanced piece of furniture, he decided to use that to his advantage. "Excuse me." He said with a noticeable change of tone in his voice, tapping a man sitting alone behind him on the shoulder.
"What?" The rasping man with stubble shadowing his face grumbled, annoyed at the dark haired man for bothering him.
"Got a matchbook?" Artie asked him, seeing a small smile tug at the corner of the man's lips.
"Got that rickety table, eh?" He wondered, patting his vest down for the object in question. He retrieved the matchbook and watched as Arte slipped it underneath the uneven leg that had been causing the problem. "Would've never thought o' that. You're a smart one." The man said, twisting his chair around and pulling up to Artie's table, beer in hand.
The man raised a hand and was brought two more beers from a man working behind the counter.
He gave Artie a mug and toasted him silently, drinking down the brew almost to the bottom in one long gulp. "You must be new 'round here." The man said after loudly setting down his glass mug.
"Yes sir. Name's Steven McKay." Arte said, thrusting out his hand for the man to shake. The man eyed Artie's hand and finally took it and shook it with fervor.
"I'm Walter Buckler, nice t' meet ya." He replied. He suddenly made himself more comfortable and settled into his chair, looking at Artie with interest. "What brings yourself to a town like Holy Oak? Not one of them prospectors are ya?"
"Gonna see if I can open up a business here. Figured with the gold strike and all, Holy Oak would be as good a place as any to settle down." Artie lied, but Buckler seemed to buy it.
"Anything to do with that there Shootin' Star Saloon?" Buckler asked.
Artie shook his head. "Naw. But I'm thinkin' of opening up my own place." He told him and then suddenly leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Hey, know anything about the owners of that saloon by chance?"
The man raised his eyebrows and mirrored Artie's motion of leaning forward. "Not much. Well, might not be true. You hear people talk." He said, eyes glancing around the tavern. Arte stared at him intently, waiting for Buckler to continue. "Rich people, from New York. There's a big hullabaloo over the whole thing. Seems the town council don't like the thought of a saloon, and the saloon don't much like the thought of being driven out. And what with the big gold strike and all; it's a real mess."
"How's that?" Artie insisted, glad to have found such a good source and on the first try too.
"Well, there's three big families that run everything in Holy Oak. If you're gonna open up a business here, you gotta know that. The Shaws, the Tenny's, and the Timony's. They paid for that nice church we got, construction of the roads, the school, and the town hall." Buckler suddenly jumped up in his chair excitedly. "And they're the ones who got that sheriff into office!" He leaned closer again and in a dead whisper said, "They pull the strings of this town."
"And let me guess, they don't like this gold strike too much." He said, taking a large swallow from his own mug.
"Exactly. You are a smart one." He said with a grin. "Anyway, seems the Shaws are threatening to move back east if that saloon opens up. If one of them families go, the whole town goes belly-up. That saloon will ruin this town, everyone's is sayin'."
Artie decided to take his chances and move the conversation in a different direction, hoping that Buckler was either too dumb or too drunk to realize. "Has anyone tried to get rid of the owners of that saloon personally?"
Buckler looked perplexed. "Personally?" He wondered. His face then lit up like someone was holding a candle behind his eyes. "Oh! You mean with all them disappearances!" He remarked,
Artie nodding his head. "Naw, ain't the saloon owners that went missing. At least I think so. See, we don't really know the people who gone missing. Mostly womenfolk and a few men that's gone disappearing."
"These womenfolk, think they're whores working for the saloon?"
Buckler shrugged. "Could be. Weren't our townsfolk who called them in missing to the government. Might have been those big-time New Yorkers." He suggested.
Artie tipped his hat to Walter Buckler and threw a few coins on to the table before standing up.
He had gotten enough information for the time being, time to call it a night. "Nice talking with ya Walter." He said, still completely in character.
"Well shoo," Walter said, tipping his hat in reply, "Ditto, Steve. Hope your business hazards go well and may I be seeing more of ya."
Artie began to head out when Buckler suddenly shot out of his seat and grabbed his arm. "You might want to be watchin' out for yourself. Two government types are in town; we've been warned by the council to keep mum around them ." He said warily. "Jus' glad I haven't seen 'em yet, I'll give 'em what for fer messin' around in business that don't pertain to them." He muttered.
"Oh, well thanks very much Walter." Artie said at he grinned at the moron who he had mislead.
"You're welcome. We simple folk got to be watching out for each other." Buckler said, nodded again, and then went to go sit down and finish his drink.
Artie made his way back to his room and sat on the edge of his bed, staring at himself in the full length mirror that stood by the badly wallpapered wall. Neatly dressed and shaven, proper clothing, silver trimmings; Walter Buckler must have been too drunk to notice that Artemus Gordon was most definitely not Steven McKay. He leaned back on his bed and smiled. He hadn't even been trying.
End of Part One