American Red by David Marlett

Author:David Marlett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fiction Studio Books
Published: 2019-07-01T19:17:14+00:00

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– 36 –

SATURDAY

March 9, 1907

General Dodge, president of Union Pacific Railroad, was standing in one of his private Pullman rail cars as it rumbled toward Cheyenne, Wyoming, the train having taken water and coal, and changed engines in Pocatello, Idaho. His bushy white mustache was suspended above a map of the West, a giant cloud floating high over the Rockies. “How do you know this, Detective?” he asked.

“Someone in Denver,” replied McParland, sitting on a nearby velvet couch, one hand grasping the knob of his cane, the other smoothing his own obdurate mustache.

Dodge frowned. “You must have high regard for their accuracy, them knowing precisely where Haywood will be.”

“I do.”

“Any other source giving you the same information?”

“Perhaps.”

“Detective, your entire operation—and my attachment of the resources of Union Pacific, its reputation and my men, thousands of dollars in costs, and lost revenue of greater sums—all pivots on one piece of information from one person?”

“We’re already en route, General,” snapped McParland, unfamiliar with the sting of having his decisions second-guessed.

“Hmmph.” Dodge’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll be suspending rail operations across the eastern front range and the heart of our west-bound traffic while you conduct this operation, which may get some innocent people shot, or some run over as you speed back through these towns. I have some experience with this.”

McParland used his cane to lever himself to his feet. “You and I, and Senator Borah and others, have discussed the risks, have we not?” He turned and addressed a group of men at the far end of the car: four Pinkertons playing cards with Charles Siringo. “Charlie, might I get one of those cigars you brought?”

Siringo stood and carried a scowl and a cigar to the detective.

McParland cut, licked, and lit the cigar. Then, adopting a convivial tone, he said, “I’m glad you’re enjoying General Dodge’s whiskey, Charlie, but I advise you not to forget—those other men are sober. You may lose your shirt.”

“Nah, the more I drink, the more I can read a man, see the cards he’s holding. Fat lady’s gonna sing for em.” Siringo turned to General Dodge. “You and I don’t know each other, Sir.”

“You’d best go back,” said McParland, puffing blue smoke.

“Name’s Siringo.”

“Yes, yes,” Dodge said. “I’ve heard some about you.”

“Some true, some not, I reckon.”

“As with me,” chuckled Dodge.

Siringo stepped closer. “It’s no secret I don’t give two shits of a regard for my old employer.” He motioned toward McParland.

McParland shook his head. “Charlie and I are old friends.”

“Time was, I near got myself killed in his employ,” Siringo continued. “Even so, if he says his Denver spy is gold, then he’s gold—or she is.” He winked, adding, “Old Necessity’s got a few ladies working for him.”

McParland winced for several reasons, starting with Siringo’s use of the less-than-flattering appellation. Also, he hadn’t realized Siringo had been listening to their earlier conversation. And most galling was Siringo’s remark that the detective’s source might be a woman. Not that it would surprise General Dodge, but it was much too revelatory of the truth for McParland’s comfort.

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