Chapter 9 – The Setup

'Mariel – Left my black dress in Denver. Please send it as soon as possible. Sammi Jo.'

That was the telegram Ginny sent to Arthur Stansbury the next morning. She hadn't made any headway on any of the other problems she'd worried about the night before, but at least she could ask Arthur to check on Bret for her. She left the telegraph office and went straight to Nelda's for breakfast. She needed lots of black coffee and some time to think before she went back to the saloon.

Ginny was surprised to find Red sitting at a table all by himself. Much as she wanted some quiet time to think, she couldn't pass up the opportunity to try and pick his brain, especially after last night. "Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked politely.

"Please do. Up awful early, aren't you?" Red looked like he'd been up all night. He was nursing a cup of coffee, and it didn't appear to be his first.

"What about you? Have you even been to bed?"

Mitchell shook his head. "No. I kept waiting for Milton to show up, and by the time I realized he wasn't going to, it was past sunrise."

"What was all that about, anyway? Surely you can't believe that his sole purpose in coming was to see me? And if it was, what happened to him?"

Red stared into his coffee cup. "I don't know. I don't have answers for anything anymore. What happened to Thelma? Did Chloe really run off with that cowboy she was seeing? Why did Betty leave in the middle of the night? Did Anna Marie go back to Montana? What did Mitchell want last night, and why didn't he show up? And why am I sittin' here askin' you questions that you can't possibly answer?"

A waitress had come by and filled both of their cups, and Ginny took a big swallow before she tried to answer Red. "I don't know, Red. Maybe because you want some answers yourself and you don't have any?"

"I ain't the only one, you know. Fannie Mae's had a girl just up and leave one mornin', and Letty's lost two within a week of each other. Couple of saloons on the east side had girls go with no word of where, or how, or why. I know there's lotsa different reasons to go someplace new and start over, but this just seems too many. Course, I could be seein' things that ain't there. Maybe it's just my imagination gettin' the better of me."

Ginny was about to say something when the front door opened and Frank Carson came running in. He was out of breath and pale as a ghost, and headed straight for their table. "Red . . . you gotta . . . come back . . . to the saloon. Marshal Springer is there . . . waitin' for you."

Mitchell set his cup down. "What does Tom want with me?"

"It's . . . Grant. He's dead."

Red dropped his cup and coffee went everywhere. "I'm . . . sorry . . . "

"Go," Ginny told him. "I'll take care of it."

Five minutes later she was standing next to Carson outside Red's office door, which was closed. They could hear voices inside, Reds and one that Ginny assumed to be Tom Springer's, but not what was being said. Frank's breathing was almost back to normal, and Ginny had questions she wanted to ask. "When did you get here? I woke up early and went to get coffee at Nelda's. You weren't here when I left."

"Musta been right after. Springer came in lookin' for Red and I went to get him, but his office was empty. I checked all over the saloon and then ran to Nelda's. Surprised to find you with him." There was an edge to Frank's voice that Ginny hadn't heard before. Could he be jealous?

"I wasn't with him. Red was drinkin' coffee when I got there; I just joined him. He seemed worn out, like he'd been up all night. Said he kept waitin' for Milton to get there but he never showed. Did the marshal tell you what happened?"

A shake of the head accompanied the answer. "No. Just told me that Grant was dead and he needed to see Red right away."

The office got quiet and soon after the door opened. Tom Springer went past Ginny and Frank in a hurry; Red was sitting behind his desk looking grim. "Come in, you two. And close the door."

Nothing further was said until Frank and Ginny were seated. That's when Ginny noticed a liquor bottle and two glasses on the corner of Red's desk; both had been used. Mitchell directed Frank to get two mores glasses; when the bartender retrieved them Red poured them full, handing one to Carson. Then he turned his attention to Ginny. "You might want this."

She shook her head and waited. "What happened, Red?"

The saloon owner drank the shot of whiskey before answering. "The front desk clerk at the Stockman's Hotel heard gunshots in Grant's office sometime this morning. When he ran in to see what happened, he found Grant on the floor and Mae standing with a derringer in her hand, looking dazed. The clerk ran for the marshal. Mae swears she didn't shoot him, but Grant took two bullets to the chest and the derringer had been used."

Frank's voice, when he found it, sounded strained. "Mae? Kill Grant Milton? I can't believe it."

Ginny couldn't either; her first instinct was to find an excuse to see Tom Springer and, she assumed, Mae. She sat quietly while Red and Frank discussed what they were going to do next. Finally Red noticed how quiet she was and once again offered her the drink. "I think you better take this, Sammi. You look like you're in shock."

"I just . . . don't like it, Red. I'm alright, but I think somebody better go see to Mae, and it better be me. Since I'm the only woman awake at this point."

Frank spoke up immediately. "I agree, but I think we should send Beatrice."

"No," Ginny insisted. "She needs to feel like somebody's on her side. Somebody she wouldn't expect. Who better?"

"I think that's a good idea, Sammi Jo. See if there's anything she needs and tell Tom I'll be gettin' her a lawyer. Frank, wake Beatrice and explain to her what happened, then get her to tell the other ladies. Alfie can make an early breakfast. In the meantime, I'll be goin' down to Martin Dyson's office soon as it's respectable. He's the best lawyer in town, Sammi, and I'm sure he'll take the case." Red shook his head slowly and sadly. "I wonder what he wanted last night, and why he never got here? Maybe Mae knows somethin' about that."

Ginny bolted for the door before either of the two men could stop her. She heard Alfie call out to her as she slipped through the batwing doors and made her way up the street just as fast as she could. She had a lot of questions to ask somebody, if she could just figure out who to ask. The marshal seemed as good a target as anybody, depending on what his reaction to her was.

Inside the jail all hell had broken loose. There were five or six well-dressed men talking to each other; some of whom she recognized from Lil's. The room was full of smoke and it took her a minute to find Tom Springer; by the time she did everyone had gone quiet. A woman's sobs could easily be heard, and the marshal was trying his best to run everyone out of the office. When the last man had been sent out the door Springer turned to Ginny and in his most condescending voice asked, "What can I do for you, little lady? Say, didn't I see you at Lil's this morning?"

"You did, marshal, and I'm here to see Mae Templeton, but first I've got some questions I need to ask you."

"Now, honey, why don't you run on back to Lil's and let one of the men handle this? I'm sure Red will take care of everything." There was an underlying tone of disdain in the marshal's voice that Ginny had heard too many times before.

"Marshal Springer, can I talk to you for just a minute over by your desk?" the Pinkerton agent asked. The desk was on the other side of the room.

He didn't answer her, just sighed and made his way to his desk. Ginny turned her back to the cell Mae was in and lowered her voice. "Springer, you can answer my questions or you can explain to Arthur Stansbury in Denver why you wouldn't. Your choice."

There was no need to clarify any further, or to remind the marshal just who Arthur Stansbury was. In mere seconds his whole demeanor changed, as well as the tone of his words. "Yes, ma'am. What do you need to know?"

"I need to know everything you know, marshal, but not here. Can you meet me at Hoffman's Livery at ten o'clock? I can't take the chance of Mae or anyone else knowing . . . who I am."

"You ride?"

"I do."

"Good. I know a place where nobody'll see us or hear us. Ten o'clock at the livery."

Ginny turned back into Sammi Jo. "Oh thank you, marshal. I'd like to see Mae now."

"Why sure. You aren't carryin' a weapon of any kind, are you?"

Ginny giggled. "Of course not, marshal. Those things are dangerous."

"Well come on then, little lady, and I'll let you in with her. Maybe you can calm her down some."

"I'll do my best."

Springer ambled back over towards Mae's jail cell, with Ginny following him. "You got a visitor, Mae," he explained unnecessarily as he unlocked the cell and let Ginny inside. The blonde never even looked up.

"Go away," she said between sobs.

"You don't really want me to do that, do you?" Ginny asked softly.

"N-n-n-n-no," Mae stammered, and Ginny sat down next to her on the bunk and put her arms around the weeping woman. "I . . . I didn't . . . I didn't . . . not Grant!"

"I know you didn't, Mae."

"You . . . you do?" she choked out, and her crying slowed.

"You had no reason to. It was obvious that you loved him."

"I . . . did."

"Tell me what happened."

"I'm not . . . sure."

"What do you remember? Had you been with Grant all night?"

For the first time she looked up, right at Ginny. "Yes. It was my night off, and we had dinner at the Cattlemen's Club. Later we . . . went to back to his rooms at the Stockman. Sometime early this morning he went downstairs to his office, and I put on a dressing gown and followed him." Mae stopped for just a moment, to catch her breath. She let out a shuddering sigh before continuing. "I sat down on the settee and fell asleep, and didn't wake up until I heard the gunshots. I thought . . . I thought I heard somebody go out the back door of the office. When I saw Grant on the floor I picked up the gun. I don't know why; it was lying right next to him. I was confused, dazed, stunned. That's when Jerry ran in."

"Jerry?"

"His front desk man. He stared at me and I just stood there until Tom came back and took the gun out of my hands. He asked me what happened and I couldn't do anything but cry."

A clumsy setup, at best; nevertheless, still a setup. And as far as Ginny was concerned, the only question that remained was: who had set it up?