After a night without sleep followed by a stressful day, Hannibal Heyes stomped into Silky's office slamming the door behind him. Leaning both hands on the desk he stared intently at his employer with eyes resembling two burning coals.
"What are you gonna do about this?" he flung at the startled man. "Jed's head is cut bad and he's got a lump on it the size of a goose egg. Dammit, he's only just healed from the beating that bastard Flanagan gave him and now his ribs are sore again! Billy ain't just hurtin', poor kid's in agony. He don't stay conscious for more than five minutes at a time neither, and when he is awake he's so darn dizzy he can't drink anything without spittin' it up again!"
Barely pausing to take a breath Han began to pace back and forth. "Y' know what I think?"
Silky opened his mouth, but realising a reply was not actually called for, closed it again.
"Those other runners of yours didn't run away with the money. They were murdered by Titus Flyte, only that time he made sure to hide the bodies real good!"
"Well now, that's quite an accusation," said Silky reproachfully.
Han slumped into a nearby chair and ran a hand across his gritty eyes. "I'm right. I know I'm right," he murmured to himself.
"You're tired, son," said Silky, calmly. "How about I go up and sit with them for a spell so you and Jenny can get some sleep? Jed needs you at your best and this is not it."
"You haven't answered my question."
"Question?"
"What are you gonna do about this? I know you have your reasons for not wanting to involve the law, but don't you understand? Jed and Billy almost died." Ignoring his fatigue Han jumped to his feet. "Hell, if you won't tell the marshal, then I will!"
With an abnormal turn of speed Silky intercepted the young man before he reached the door. "Don't!"
"Then what? Titus is more'n a match for anyone here and you know it. If we're gonna deal with this ourselves we can't do it with our fists; we need guns."
"No! No guns!"
Frustrated, Han demanded, "What have you got against guns?"
Deciding that the memory was still too raw to voice out loud Silky declined to answer. However, with both Han and his conscience giving him a hard time he knew when he was beat. His shoulders slumped as he sighed out, "I'll go see Marshal Hardy."
"Now?"
"If that's what it'll take to keep you off my back, then yes, I'll go right now," snapped the defeated man.
"I'm coming with you."
"I'm perfectly capable of walking to the marshal's office on my own, you know!"
Although he wanted to believe him, Han wasn't totally convinced Silky would actually do it. "Wait here while I go tell Jenny," he said before dashing out of the room.
Lowering himself into the chair Han had vacated Silky leaned forward and put his head in his hands. How had it come to this? Silky O'Sullivan putting other people's lives at risk for the sake of a profit. He wasn't that kind of man, was he?
It was years since he had first become involved with the Flyte brothers. It all started when, as the new owner of the Velvet Slipper and one who had never run a saloon before, he had felt a little vulnerable and in need of protection. From time to time the Flytes had also generously offered a loan or two when profits were low and the bills were mounting up, but little did he realise the hold they would have on him, or how much money and aggravation it would ultimately cost. Annoyed with himself for not making more of an effort to break free from their clutches, he grabbed his hat and cane and made a quick exit.
Outside, the sun had almost set and lamps were being lit along the street in readiness for the evening trade. The Denver Police Headquarters was not far away; its location in Market Street having been chosen due to the proximity of the saloons, brothels and gambling dens of The Row. Silky had no intention of going straight there, however. He needed to clear his head and work out exactly what he was going to say in order to ensure the continuation of his business and himself out of jail.
A few minutes later, earning himself curses and frowns from some of the saloon's clientele, Han hurriedly pushed his way through the busy bar and out onto the boardwalk. He looked left and right then cursed in frustration. The person he sought was nowhere to be seen. Why didn't Silky wait for me? He wondered. Should I follow him to the marshal's office? That was assuming the man had gone to talk to the law as promised. What if Silky gets thrown in jail? Han was also worried that the marshal may not believe what Silky had to say about the Flytes and arrest him instead; another reason why he felt someone should be there to back up his story.
Even with his tired brain in turmoil, Han still appreciated that Silky must have had his reasons for leaving without him. He just hoped those reasons weren't ones which would only benefit himself.
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
Midnight came and went, so did the dawn, and by mid-morning there was still no sign of Silky O'Sullivan.
"What's eatin' ya, Han?" asked Jed who now sat propped up with pillows, nibbling tentatively on a soda cracker. His head was pounding like a dozen spike hammers were at work inside it and the rest of him didn't feel much better. In fact, it felt as if he had been run over by the very railroad those spike hammers should be working on. Even so, he was in much better shape than the friend beside him.
Edgily chewing on his thumbnail Hannibal continued to stare out of the window where he had been standing for the last hour.
Jed persisted. "I said—"
"Nothing's eating me," griped Han, unintentionally. "I've just got a lot on my mind is all."
At the sound of voices Billy stirred. "Jenny?"
Han turned from the window. "Jenny ain't here right now, Billy. You need something?"
"Water."
The boy took a few sips from the cup offered to his lips and coughed, his arms immediately hugging his painful ribs.
"Hurts."
"I know, but you can't have any more of that willow bark yet."
"Okay."
Impressed by Billy's resilience Hannibal smiled softly. From what little he knew about him, Billy didn't appear to have known much love in his life. However, he had a hunch that was all about to change. For some time now he had been aware of Jenny's growing affection for the lad, and over the past twenty-four hours she had hardly left his bedside.
At the sound of approaching footsteps Han opened the door expecting to see Jenny returning with some coffee and a late breakfast. Instead, accompanying her was a tall, smartly dressed man with a tin badge pinned to the lapel of his jacket on which was stamped a star and the words 'City Marshal'. A bleary-eyed Silky trailed wearily behind him.
"...I'm aware of that, Miz Lovelace, but I do need to see the victims for myself," the marshal was saying.
Hearing an unknown male voice, Billy asked anxiously, "Who's that?"
"It's alright, honey, it's only Marshal Hardy come to see how y'all are doing," cooed Jenny.
The lawman stood at the end of the bed and appraised the two youngsters. "Can one of you tell me what happened?"
"I can." Jed knew that Billy was in no fit state to say more than a few words so he related the whole incident right up to the moment he had passed out. "You can see what he did to Billy after that."
"Hmmm. I hear some street gang found you." The marshal's tone was sceptical. "You sure you didn't just get in a fight with them, boy? It don't do to go round pointing a finger at a notable Denver citizen."
"It's the truth, sir," Jed confirmed. "Tucker and his friends, they saved our lives. Billy and me can box pretty good; we could lick any one of 'em real easy if we had a mind to. "
Han winced. He knew it would be all too easy for the marshal to conclude that they were only accusing Titus in order to cover up the fact that they had started a fight and just got themselves bested. "So, Marshal, what happens now? You gonna arrest Titus Flyte?" he asked quickly.
Marshal Hardy muttered, "Maybe."
"Maybe!" screeched Silky. "After what this boy just told you, you say maybe? And I've been sitting in your office detailing Merton Flyte's devious dealings for hours! Why, I —"
"Settle down, Mister O'Sullivan, or you'll be the one in handcuffs. I'll go interview them when I'm good an' ready. Now about them two sets of books..."
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
For the remainder of the day Silky holed up in his office yelling at anyone who got up the nerve to try and enter. Then, about an hour before sundown, he announced he was going home to change his clothes. After the departure of Marshal Hardy it had been agreed that any 'business' on the upper floor of the saloon should be suspended for a while so that it could become their temporary home, at least until the boys were well enough to be moved. The reasoning behind this was twofold: firstly, Silky didn't wish to burden Maisie with nursing two invalids and, more importantly, he didn't want to lose both of his blackjack dealers to permanent bedside vigils. If they were upstairs in the saloon, at least they could still be called upon to work a shift or two.
On the pretext of continuing Billy's education, Hannibal volunteered to accompany him to Tremont Place. In reality he intended to look for something other than just books.
Maisie Conlon fussed around like an old mother hen as soon as they set foot inside the front door. Pressing hot coffee and warm apple pie on them she insisted on hearing every detail of the boys' injuries and recovery so far.
When eventually Silky managed to get away to go upstairs and change his clothes, and Maisie was busy packing an assortment of baked goods into a basket to tempt Jed and Billy's appetites, Han sneaked out into the back yard to the old shed where, months earlier, he had stashed their money along with Jed's revolver. Upon opening the shed door he noticed a pungent smell; it was somewhat familiar, but he did not dwell on it, he just concentrated on the reason he was there.
Even in the growing twilight he had little trouble finding the hiding place. Pulling the Remington revolver from behind an old rusting shovel, he stuffed it in the waistband of his pants making sure that the butt of the gun was well hidden under his vest. He knew to keep it out of sight, just as Alonzo did with the sawed-off shotgun he had secreted under the bar.
Although he did not feel as confident as his cousin when it came to handling guns, ever since he had set eyes on Titus Flyte Han had been toying with the idea of arming himself. It seemed to him that almost as soon as Jed could walk his father had set about teaching him to shoot a rifle. Occasionally Han would watch the lessons but he'd never taken part; his own father had forbidden it, insisting that his son be a little older before partaking in any sort of gunplay. Nevertheless, Han had still absorbed every bit of Niall Curry's tutelage, and once he was deemed old enough he became almost as good as his cousin with a rifle. When it came to using side arms, however, Jed definitely had the edge.
Upon returning to the Velvet Slipper and seeing that the saloon was not busy, Silky plucked a full bottle of whiskey from the bar and headed upstairs to his bedroom at the end of the hallway. Han followed him, but stopped at Jed and Billy's room. As he entered, Jenny looked up from the book she was reading aloud.
"What have I missed?" asked Han, depositing a carpetbag crammed with books, slates and chalk on the floor by the door. Over the last couple of days he had also been enjoying listening to the story.
"They found a huge lake!" said Jed enthusiastically.
"An' a foreth of gian' muthrooms," added Billy through swollen lips.
"Sure is a strange tale." Jenny examined the fancy gold lettering on the front cover. "A Journey to the Centre of the Earth, by Jules Verne. Fella sounds like a Frenchy to me," she remarked.
Quickly removing his boots Han climbed onto Jed's side of the bed. Leaning back against the foot end of the iron frame, he crossed his feet at the ankles. "You can tell me about that part later. Read on, Jenny!"