Chapter 2: The Unlucky Salesman

Later that night, after the hotel guest had gone to bed, Smyth and Sinclair made their way down to the Madera's lobby, the only light coming from few small oil lamps near the front door which illuminated the empty foyer in a soft faint glow.

Quietly they made their way around to the front desk which was just to the right of the stairs. To the left of the counter was a closed door marked "office - private". With Sinclair keeping lookout for anyone coming down the stairs, Smyth lit a match and searched around under the chest high counter until he spotted what he was looking for on the first shelf below the desk. He withdrew the hotel's registrar just as the flame reached the end of the matchstick. The two were briefly plunged into darkness until Smyth lit a second then took on of the small oil lamps off the counter and lit it, adjusting the flame very low and setting it on the floor behind the counter. He then began flipping back through the pages searching for the date he needed.

After several minutes, Sinclair was starting to get a little itchy. "Hurry up will you. Someone's likely to come down."

"Shut up, I'm going as fast as I can." Smyth scanned the pages going back about a month before his eyes settled on something of interest. "Looky hear," he said to his partner.

Sinclair leaned over and glanced at the page. Half-way down a name caught his attention. It wasn't Julia Novak, but Julia Roberts. "Think it's her?"

"Could be. She could have changed her last name to throw us off but the date co-insides with what Pinkerton said though." There were several other female names that had checked in within the same time frame.

Smyth took a pin knife from his pocket and opened the blade.

"What are you doing?" Sinclair asked.

"We can't be sure that's her. Might be one of these others." Carefully he removed the page from the registrar close to the binding so it would be difficult to notice the missing page at first glance.

Suddenly the two men heard someone coming down the stairs. Smyth stuffed the page into his pocket and quickly extinguished the lamp as Sinclair withdrew a small handgun from a holster beneath his vest. The two crouched low behind the counter.

Heavy steps came down the stairs. Carl Browden paused at the bottom to adjust his hat. He'd been unable to sleep and after tossing and turning for the past several hours he decided a quick trip to Sweeny's for a nightcap might do him some good. The salesman was a regular customer at the Madera house stopping in North Fork at least once a month.

Sinclair tried to back further up out of sight, but as he did so the heel of his boot hit the glass lamp sitting on the floor. It clattered loudly. Smyth quickly caught it before it tipped over.

The portly man turned suddenly at the sound. "Hello, someone here?" He asked his eyes trying to peer into the darkness. He thought he saw movement in the shadows. Withdrawing his gun, the saleman walked closer to the counter his suspicions aroused. "All right whosever behind there come out with your hands up," he said firmly. "I've got a gun trained on you so no funny stuff."

Smyth motioned for Sinclair to hang back and go around to the other side of the desk. Slowly he rose with his hands up in the air being careful to keep in the shadows. The portly man kept his gun trained directly at his chest.

"All right mister. What do ya think you're doing?" the man asked.

But Smyth kept silent.

"Not talking huh?"

The man moved until he was standing close to the desk. "Move out from those shadows so I can get a good look at you, and keep those hands high in the air, mister."

Smyth remained where he was giving Sinclair a few more seconds to move around the corner of the counter.

Browden stepped towards the stranger moving up alongside the counter. "I said come out of there now before I put a piece of lead in you."

"Please don't shoot," Smyth said calmly. "I am unarmed."

"We'll just see about that mister when I can get a better look at you!"

"All right" Smyth replied. Still in the shadows, he started to move around the far end of the counter making Browden turn his back to the opposite end as kept his gun trained on the intruder. Sinclair stealthily approached the man from behind.

"I'm taking you over to the Marshal's office so…." But before the salesman could finish his sentence, his head exploded in pain as Sinclair brought the butt of his gun heavily down his head. The large man fell to the floor unconscious.

Smyth emerged from the shadows as Sinclair holstered his gun back beneath his vest. "Sorry, but I think I'll have to pass on the offer friend."

"We better get out of here before the whole hotel is awake!" Sinclair said

"In a minute," Smyth said calmly. Quickly he replaced the registrar and lamp in their original positions then went to the side door and unlocked it before re-closing the door. He then motioned to Sinclair and they quietly retreated back up to their rooms.

Micah Torrance was aroused out of bed to the pounding of a fist on his door. He rose and grabbed his gun, pulling up his suspenders as he approached the door.

"Micah! Wake up!"

The marshal peered out the shade of his window to see Fred, the hotel clerk, standing on the landing.

He quickly opened the door. "What is it Fred?"

"We need you over at the hotel pronto."

"What's happened?"

"Not sure exactly. We think someone was trying to break into the safe. One of the hotel guest surprised them, but someone bushwhacked him from behind."

"I'll be right there," Micah said, quickly throwing on the rest of his clothes. Having finished his midnight rounds, Micah had barely been in bed an hour. A few minutes later he made his way down the stairs of his one room accomadations that resided above a shop just across from the jail and headed for the Madera House with Fred anxiously following.

As he entered the lobby he saw Carl Browden sitting in a chair with a cold cloth to the back of his head. Judge Hanoven, owner of the Madera, paced back and forth in his silk robe, a cigar clamped in his mouth, while Mabel, the hostess hovered anxiously nearby also in night attire and robe.

"'Bought time you showed up, Micah," the Judge Hanoven snapped walking quickly over to the Marshal.

"Came as fast as I could, Judge," the Marshal replied calmly. He examined the back of Browden's head. He had a lump the size of a robin's egg on it. "You need the doc?"

Browden shook his head in disgust by his own stupidity. "I'll survive."

Micah looked about the small group. "Someone want to tell me what happened?"

"An attempted robbery, that's what!" the Judge snapped.

"Did ya see what happened? Who did it?"

"Well, not exactly. I was asleep. We all were," the Judge replied sourly.

Micah sighed. "Mr. Browden why don't you tell me what happened."

Browden quickly relayed his story as Micah listened intently, a frown on his face.

"Did you see who it was?"

The portly man shook his head. "No, he stayed in the shadows. Should have suspected there were two of them. Other fella got me from behind."

"Was anything taken?" Micah asked Fred.

"I don't think so. Mr. Browden must have spooked them before they had a chance," he replied.

"Where do you keep your safe Judge?"

"In the back office over here," he indicated to a room just off to the side of the counter. "The door was still locked though."

Micah examined the door, then the safe. It was a modern model and not one that could be easily opened. Knowing the Judge, he would have not settled for anything but the best. But neither the door nor the safe seemed to have been tampered with. Nevertheless he asked Judge Hanoven and Fred to check the contents inside.

"Everything's there, just the way I left it before leaving," the Judge informed Micah a few minutes later.

"How about you Mr. Browden?"

The salesman checked all his pockets quickly then gave a relieved sigh. "No my wallet and pocket watch are still here."

Micah walked over to the side door of the hotel which led out towards the alley. "Was this door locked earlier as well?"

"Of course," Fred insisted, looking rather indignant. "I locked everything up myself before I retired, both front and back doors."

Micah opened the unlocked door. "Seems they got in and out this way." He examined the lock carefully. It had not been forced open and he couldn't see any scratch marks either indicating it had been picked open though that didn't necessarily mean anything. Micah stepped into the empty alley and had a thorough look about before returning, then walked behind the counter where he absently noticed two burnt matchsticks on the floor. Everything else appeared to be in order.

Addressing the small group again, he asked. "Anybody hear anything unusual?"

Everyone shook their heads. Micah sighed. "We'll Judge, whoever it was, looks like Mr. Browden spooked them away. I don't expect they'll be trying anything more tonight?"

"Is that all you're gonna do?" Judge Hanoven demanded.

Micah eyed the Judge calmly. "What else do you want me to do, Judge?"

"We'll go after them," he insisted. "After all, that's what we're paying you for!"

"Look Judge," Micah said patiently. "If I knew who I was going after I would. But Mr. Browden can't even give a description, let alone any idea of where they took off to."

Judge Hanoven paced back and forth and sighed irritably. "I know. I'm sorry to snap at you Micah." He rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "It's just that I don't like to see my valued customers being accosted."

"Ah, don't worry about me Judge Hanoven," Carl insisted. "I've got a thick head."

"The most I can do right now is wake up the rest of your guests and question each one individually. Maybe they heard or saw something."

The Judge waved his hand quickly. "No, no I don't want that. I'll be bad for business. We'll let the matter drop for now seeing as nothing was taken."

"I'll be happy make extra rounds around the hotel for the next several days just to be sure you don't have any further problems."

"Thank you Micah."

"What about you Mr. Browden?"

The big man shook his head. "I'll be all right. But if I ever catch the varmint who did this he'll be sure wishing he never crossed with me," Browden promised. Fred escorted the saleman back upstairs to his room.