Chapter 6: A Penne for Your Thoughts

With the evening's matches and shows over, Dixie was escorted down the street in the middle of a large group to Laney's private dining room at the hotel. On entering, she felt a chill go up her spine when she saw the bald man already seated at the center of the head table. Laney came up and greeted him, but she noticed that the man missed Laney's offered hand as his eyes were locked solely on her.

"Ahem, Baron von Huffeld, this is Miss Dixie Cousins."

"Delighted, I'm sure, as am I to make your acquaintance, Miss Cousins. You will join me in my personal quarters for the rest of our stay."

Dixie started to object, but Laney's grip tightened on her arm, almost as if in warning. She was doing her best to keep from wincing in pain as the industrialist said, "Baron, I'll have her things moved to your room."

"No!" exclaimed Dixie despite Laney's grip, but the pressure suddenly released only to be followed by a backhanded blow from Laney's fist to her stomach. She grunted and bent forward in pain.

"Baron, she is rather independent-minded, so feel free to exercise, well, you know, whatever's necessary, to bend her to your will."

"Of course, Laney. Now, leave us for a time." A wave of his hand seemed to dismiss the host from his mind. "Miss Cousins, please, be seated. Would you like to join me for a late night snack?" Huffeld pointed to a silver bowl with a dome cover, which he removed to reveal a jumble of tubular pasta. A silver tureen with a brownish sauce set next to bowl on the large serving platter. "The sauce is bratwurst-based and is from a recipe of my native Prussia, served over the Italian pasta, one of their true contributions to modern society. Sit. Now."

Dixie dropped into the seat without being told a third time as the baron dipped a large serving of the penne and placed it on his plate before dipping a much smaller quantity and placing it on a second plate. He drizzled a small amount of sauce over her pasta before placing the plate before her. "Try it. If you like it, there's more."

The smell was stronger than she liked so she had to fight the urge to push it away, but her fear of the big Prussian kept the plate in front of her.

Huffeld smiled as he ladled more and more sauce over his own plate. "Try it, Miss Cousins. You might enjoy it."

"Truthfully? I doubt it."

"Don't worry about it then," replied the man with a cruel smile. "It will still be waiting for you when you get hungry. Or, that is, hungry enough."

"You wouldn't!"

"Just try me, Miss Cousins. You'll find that I mean what I say. For now, I'll say that we are going to be spending a lot of time together and get to know each other very, very well."

At the thought of the implications, Dixie's anger grew and her face turned red. "If you touch me, you'll regret it."

"No, Miss Cousins. My dear wife back in Prussia might regret it if I like you better, but I assure you, either way, I won't regret it in the least."

~ABCJ~

From a distance, Brisco had seen Lon Laney escorting Dixie to the hotel in the middle of a number of his guards. He followed along and slipped in the back of the hotel when no one was around.

After all of the trouble the night before, it had seemed practically too easy, which was confirmed a few minutes later when he heard the sound of a hammer being cocked.

"Don't move, Ba-risco. Mr. Laney said you might try something like this."

"Pete? Pete Hutter?"

"Yeah, it's me," replied Pete as he slid Brisco's pistol out of the holster.

"Pete, I heard you got killed again. That a stampede got you."

"Naw, there was a stampede, all right, and there are some hoofprint scars up there, but the hair's growing back in purty good and my vision doesn't wander too, too much. And I swear, one of them prints on my derriere looks just like a lucky tattoo, being a horseshoe and all. Course, there's that long-running debate about whether it's lucky turned up or lucky pointing down—"

"Excuse me, Pete, but you mentioned Lon Laney. Does this mean you're back on the dark side again?"

"Yeah, sorry. I have to go where the money is and right now, Mr. Laney's the one doling it out. And he has cookies. Course, with my gut, I can't eat many."

"Sorry to hear it, Pete."

"Thank ya' kindly, Ba-risco. Now, if you don't mind, we got to go see Mr. Laney. He's been expecting ya', after all."

Brisco started walking in the direction Pete indicated, but stopped when two of the pistoleros from the previous night stepped out of a door. "Good job, Hutter," said one of the men. "The baron's waiting on you, County. Right in there."

Entering the room, Brisco caught the look of defeat that crossed Dixie's face ever-so-briefly before she restored her forced smile. Then Brisco took a look at the man sitting at the table with her.

"Mr. County, I presume," said the bald man. When Brisco gave a brief nod, the man smiled. "Since it won't matter anyway, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Baron Manfred von Huffeld of Province Schlesien, Deutsches Kaiserreich."

"Imperial Germany," said Brisco. "And you're Prussian?"

"Very good, Mr. County."

"I didn't sleep through all of my classes. Guess you're here on business. Funny business."

"You could say. I've only recently arrived in America to win my fortune, or perhaps, to steal it." The man took a bite of pasta from his plate; Dixie's, Brisco noted, looked untouched.

"So you plan to do something so common as to rob a bank?"

"No, Mr. County, nothing so common at all. It will be, if you will, so uncommon that it will be long remembered in your country and in the annals of crime. Even then, however, the job now in the works is only the shadow, the specter, if you will, of the criminal empire that I am planning in the future. Unfortunately, all great adventures must start somewhere and with but a single step. And, proper capital, of course. Therefore, the gold I will obtain from this venture will help finance what is to come."

Brisco laughed at the idea. "Gold? There's not enough gold in all of the banks in San Francisco to make it worth your while for the effort it would take to rob them—wait! You're not talking about banks are you? You're planning to rob the U.S. Mint!"

"Very perceptive, Mr. County. It is, after all, the repository of more gold than any single facility anywhere west of Philadelphia. As an aside, where, may I ask, did you get such a plebeian name?"

"My father gave it to me, as his father gave it to him. Speaking of which, Huffeld? What about that? Yours sounds like something out of a children's tale. You know, like little pigs and a wolf."

Expecting to draw Huffeld's ire, Brisco was instead surprised when Huffeld laughed and actually agreed. "Yes, I've been thinking of changing it to something that sounds stronger or perhaps more intimidating. In your language, 'huff' just sounds so weak, like that wolf of which you spoke, with all that huffing and puffing. When he says that he's going to blow the house down—well, that word sounds strong! I don't know, but maybe I'll think of the right word someday."

It was at that moment when Lon Laney reentered the room, this time carrying the white Persian cat. Brisco saw Laney's eyes widen as if in surprise, but then Brisco was as surprised as Laney when the cat yowled, scratched Laney, and jumped out of his arms only to bound back up into Huffeld's arms a moment later. Huffeld gave Laney a frown as he started to stroke the cat before looking at Dixie. "Laney, if you can't take care of such a fine creature and make it happy, you don't deserve him. Or her."

Red with anger, Dixie sneezed, causing Huffeld to rise and move away. "Enough of this. We move forward tonight. Laney, you are to join us in San Francisco on Sunday after your festivities here are at an end. No reason to make anyone suspicious by disappearing in the middle of your own soiree."

Laney nodded, but Huffeld was already turning to the pistoleros and Pete Hutter. "You three are to take Mr. County on a ride on my power yacht on the lake. Mr. County, it might interest you to know, the lake is thought to be one of the deepest in your country. Gentlemen, see that he gets a good tour of the top under the beautiful moon and then put him in chains so he'll make it all the way to the bottom to find out if that part about the depth is true. When you get back to shore, open the seacocks and send her back out to join Mr. County."

"Mr. Baron," said Pete, "a boat that small won't have seacocks."

"Then shoot holes in the bottom. I've heard that you're good at that. No reason to leave any evidence in case the earlier owner comes looking to reclaim her."

With that, Huffeld turned, pulling Dixie along, and moved toward the exit. As he went out the door, Brisco saw fear in Dixie's eyes as she mouthed something to him. Huffeld turned back and added, "Goodbye, Mr. County. It's been nice knowing you." As the door was swinging shut, Brisco heard him continue, "Well, my dear, come along. We have a train to catch in Truckee."

~ABCJ~

Two hours later, the yacht, if one could properly call the dingy little boat that, was chugging along under the power of its steam engine. Brisco's mind was racing frantically, working through every possible scenario to allow him to escape, but with the two pistoleros, Pete, and the boat's captain, who looked to be as tough as the others, Brisco didn't see any good possibilities.

He was trying to work his hands out of the chains, but even with the coating of blood from the scratches he'd made in the process, they weren't slick enough to slip through the bonds.

It was then that Pete Hutter said, "Oh, gents, the baron said to take him out to the deepest part of the lake, but I wouldn't guess he'd know if this part was any deeper than any other. Anchor's away."

One of the pistoleros nodded and grabbed Brisco's arm as he said, "Okay, County, I don't know what you're thinkin' right now and I don't really care, but forget it. It ain't gonna' happen, whatever it is. What will happen is you're gonna' step off this boat on your own or Hank and me are gonna' toss you off, and we won't be none too gentle in preparin' to do it. My advice is to save yourself the pain."

Brisco felt Hank's hand grasp his arm and both men started to lift; as much as he wanted to, there was nothing he could do to stop them. Looking back over his shoulder, he looked at Hutter.

"Pete, if you see Dixie again, tell her I, uh, I love her, too."

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading. I will greatly appreciate any responses or feedback you might have to offer.

At 1,645 deep, Lake Tahoe is said to be the second deepest freshwater lake in the United States.

The San Francisco Mint was established in 1854 and moved into its second home in 1874. This building was one of the few in the city that would survive the great earthquake and fire of 1906.

Truckee (originally Colburn Station) was one of the nearest stops from Lake Tahoe on the main rail line. In addition to being famous as a railroad town, Truckee was also the location of the ill-fated Donner (Donner-Reed) Party of 1846-47.

I hope I've gotten Pete Hutter's speech and mannerism's correct. He was one of the more interesting characters in the recurring cast for the series. If you see anything too out of character, please let me know.

As for Huffeld, whether he had any famous criminal offspring or perhaps grandchildren, I will leave it up to the reader to speculate.

Finally, as for the end of the story, will Brisco make it out? Will he see Dixie again? Will he be able to foil Huffeld's plan? Come back and find out when the final chapter is released sometime soon.