“Your local judges would toss out the charges?”
“They’d more likely hold me in contempt for wasting their time.” Granger snorted in contempt. “Truth is, most of ’em are in Schofield’s hip pocket.”
“Owning a railroad is lucrative,” Ike said.
“Not that lucrative, I’d say, but he’s always got a wad of greenbacks to flash around.” Granger settled his gun belt and thrust his Colt into it. “I’ll rouse a few of my men and go see what we can do.”
“Wait, Marshal. Isn’t Schofield’s railroad profitable?”
Granger shrugged. “Hard to say. He doesn’t have that much track, and it’s all in South Texas. A single line from Galveston is the busiest, and it’s all freight, only nobody can figure out what he’s bringing in.”
“Good luck, Marshal,” Ike said. “I hope you won’t need me.”
“Nope, Deputy, there’s no call for you to come along and reveal yourself. From the sound of it, Schofield can weasel out of any kidnapping charges by laying this mortal sin on Kinchloe’s doorstep. You keep after the snake with the most rattles. We’ll take care of all the itsty-bitsy rattlers.”
Granger went downstairs, bellowing for his deputies to get a move on. Ike peered out from the cell block door and saw four men stumbling along after the marshal. He wished them well. If they weren’t fully awake by the time they reached the rail yard, they stood to get themselves filled full of holes. Kinchloe’s small army of railroad bulls was all het up and raring to fight.
He started to call out to Granger about the crates filled with rifles and ammunition, but the lawman was already out of earshot. Ike chewed his lower lip and considered what he ought to do. The marshal and his deputies wouldn’t have much trouble dealing with Kinchloe and releasing Catherine. But he didn’t know what had become of Lily Sinclair. She had escaped from the warehouse, but he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her when he left.
Ike knew better than to tag along, but he still followed Granger back to the rail yard. While the marshal dealt with Kinchloe, Ike intended to be certain Lily was safe and sound. It was crazy and dangerous, he knew. But his fingers brushed lightly over his lips as he remembered his impudence.
He owed her nothing, but he still felt an obligation to get her and her ma out of the jam they found themselves in with Schofield.
The ruckus inside the warehouse told of a few bulls refusing to give in to the law, but there wasn’t the fusillade Ike expected. He looked around for Lily. The woman was nowhere to be seen. He settled down and thought hard on the matter.
“If I was her, what would I do?” He cursed when the answer came to him. “Like mother, like daughter.” Ike poked his head through the door into the warehouse and looked around. Both women had insisted on saving their property, as if the cyclorama and their costumes were the most precious things in the whole wide world.
The noise from the loading area near the spur line into the warehouse had died down. A few occasional voices rose to echo, but the law had prevailed. Ike ducked into a narrow corridor formed by the piles of crates when Granger came into view.
“Is this here pile all yours, Mrs. Sinclair?” Granger asked.
“Oh, Marshal, please call me Catherine. And yes, all this belongs to me. Especially this.” She put a dainty foot on the cyclorama. “It is very expensive, and I don’t want it damaged.”
“Let’s see if we can’t get some strong backs to carry it out for you.” Granger grabbed a man by the collar and pulled him forward.
Ike recognized Kinchloe’s sidekick Smitty. If Smitty was with the marshal, that meant his boss and their big boss weren’t anywhere to be found. Schofield and Kinchloe could alibi out of any crime by claiming it was all Smitty’s doing.
“You and a couple of your bully boys can carry it for the lady.” Granger gave Smitty a kick in the britches to move him along faster when he hesitated. The railroad bull snarled and moved as if going for a pistol, then stopped when Granger rested his hand on a six-gun tucked into his belt.
Smitty and the others had been defanged.
“Where are we supposed to put it?” Smitty asked with ill grace.
“Well, now, let’s ask the lady,” Granger said. He and Catherine went off to have a confab.
Ike wasn’t too interested in where Catherine wanted her belongings stored now, but he caught a snippet of their conversation. He started to protest, then fell silent. If he said anything now, he only dug himself deeper into a hole.
“You’re so good to me, Marshal Granger,” Catherine said, hanging on to the lawman’s arm. She sidled closer. “However can I thank you?”
“No need since I’m doin’ the job the fine citizens of San Antonio pay me to do. I just brought some of my boys along. It’s the other gent you should thank.” Granger stared at the lovely woman, who positively glowed at his attention.
“I never caught his name. He seemed quite taken with me,” Catherine said, “but he’s not really my type. Not like you. I would like to know who he was, though. You can share that with me, can’t you?”
Ike cringed as Granger said, “He’s a deputy Federal marshal on a real special assignment for Judge Parker, up in Arkansas.”
“That’s quite a ways from home for him, isn’t it?”
“I never thought about that, but it is. His name’s Augustus Yarrow, and he’s famous. I’ve read some penny dreadfuls about his exploits over the past couple years.”
“I have heard of him, too. Imagine little ole me coming so close to such a famous lawman,” Catherine said. “But I’m sure his exploits are all puffed up by writers with overactive imaginations. He’s not brave like you.”
Granger ate up the admiration with a spoon and beamed, his grin showing his tobacco-stained teeth. He puffed up his chest to better display the badge pinned on his coat lapel.
“There’s no telling what all he’s up to, but I know what I have to do.” Granger bellowed at Smitty and three men with him to lug the cyclorama away from the warehouse.
Ike slipped off. With the marshal telling Catherine Sinclair about Deputy Marshal Yarrow, everyone in town would know in a day. The woman wasn’t the sort to keep a secret if it enhanced her prestige in the eyes of others.
A quick circuit of the rail yard failed to give Ike even a tiny hint where Lily had gone. Her mother showed no anxiety, so he assumed that meant Lily had gotten away as he’d told her. That was something of a surprise. She was as headstrong as she was pretty. He vented a deep sigh. If things had been different, he wouldn’t have minded getting to know her better.
But the safest trail to follow now was to clear out of San Antonio. Both Schofield and Kinchloe would have blood in their eyes. If they overheard Catherine telling someone else about the Federal lawman working for Hanging Judge Parker, he might as well wear a bull’s-eye on his back—more than he already did. What the real Augustus Yarrow would do after he had been exposed proved a poser for Ike. He had no idea how the lawman handled such vulnerability. Ike hoped Yarrow would have done as he intended.
Get the hell out of town.
It was still a half hour before dawn. The same dilemma faced him about buying a horse. He had plenty of money, but time worked against him. Waiting a half hour for a livery stable to open might not be all that dangerous, but Schofield’s intelligence network would hum. Smitty and his partners had been chased off by the marshal, who seemed eager to steer Catherine Sinclair somewhere more private to hear her life story.
Ike climbed the depot steps as a train screeched to a halt along the platform. He bent close and shouted at the clerk over the locomotive’s hiss and clang, “How long before this one’s out of here?”