Free Leadville by James D. Best Page A

available corners.
    As we stacked the supplies, McAllen said, “Steve, the circuit judge came around early, so they already held an inquest. No charges were filed against you. Deemed self-defense.” He threw another sack onto a pile. “If you haven’t written Jenny, I suggest you do it tonight.”
    “You too?” I threw my own sack. “Isn’t it enough that Jeff keeps haranguing me about Jenny? Well, I already wrote her, but we got back too soon for a reply to arrive.”
    McAllen grabbed my forearm. “I don’t care about any damn love letter. Write her and tell her what happened. She needs to be warned her mother-in-law ain’t just socializing with the Nob Hill crowd.”
    Chagrined, I simply said, “I did. Jeff and I also sent a telegram before we left town.”
    “We need to check with Western Union,” Sharp said. “She may have responded to our telegram.”
    We finished our work, and the three of us stood looking at my cluttered room. “I didn’t pay for all this,” McAllen said, “but if you don’t mind, could we donate what we don’t need to the church in my daughter’s name?”
    “Of course,” Sharp said.
    I gave Sharp a sideways look and said, “Jeff, we better get over to the Western Union office.”
    Sharp made a move toward the door, but McAllen stopped us by finally broaching the subject. “Did you find Dooley?”
    “Yep, but ya won’t like what we found out,” Sharp said.
    “I already know Grant left town. What else?”
    We told him. McAllen eyes grew dark and mean, but he merely nodded. After a moment, he went to the window and looked out. “It’s dark,” was all he said. Then he turned to face us. “Let’s get a soak and a beer. There’s nothing more that can be done tonight. Besides, I need to see my ex-wife again this evening, and I think my request will be better received if I clean up.”
    “What do you want from her?” Sharp asked, confused.
    McAllen headed for the door. “The necklace.”

Chapter 16
     
    Jenny had indeed sent a return telegram, but, as we predicted, no letter had arrived yet. The telegram was terse. It simply said, No problem here. Being careful. Glad Steve unharmed .
    She had used my first name. Was that a good sign? I told myself not to get my hopes up. She had only responded to the warning of danger, not my more personal letter, which she may not have received yet. After I got through with my wishful thinking about her feelings toward me, I took comfort in her statement that there were no problems at the ranch. Hopefully, Mrs. Bolton would aim her wrath only at me. Then I realized that would be completely out of character for Mrs. Bolton. If she had resumed the warpath, Jenny would undoubtedly be a target.
    After we returned to our boardinghouse, Sharp and I found McAllen and commandeered the bathroom. I paid the owner’s son to run across the street for some chilled beers. Few things in life felt more comforting than slipping into a hot bath with a large tankard of beer in hand. The common bathroom provided little privacy, so I tipped the boy to keep the water fresh in the single tub and to shoo away any other tenants.
    The stove used to heat the bathwater kept the room warm, so after our soaks, we sat in straight-back chairs with towels wrapped around our waists. After the boy had fetched our second beers, McAllen got down to business.
    “Any of you got any answer other than that Grant planned this?”
    “Nope,” Sharp said. “He led the posse right to them. Might have been good tracking, but my bet is he knew exactly where they’d be. We know he lied about the number of Indians in order to keep the posse away from ’em.”
    “And the half-breed lied as well,” I added.
    “Yep,” Sharp said, “so the two gotta be in cahoots.”
    McAllen took a swallow of his beer. Then another. “We know a white man paid the Utes and told them how to pick her up. The boy said nothing about any half-breed, but the two of them musta been