Hummingbird (39 page)

"I'm afraid you confuse me, sir. I didn't think it was DuFrayne's decision. I thought that you spoke for the railroad in this matter."

Hudson cleared the tabletop of his fingers, glanced at Jesse.

"Jess?" he asked quietly. All eyes in the room trained on DuFrayne.

"No."

"It's time, Jess. Do you want to pay out ten thousand for nothing?"

But DuFrayne clamped his lips tightly and brooded while the two arbiters went on discussing. Jesse's dark face was unreadable, although Melcher pierced him with hating eyes. Fraught by guilt over the night before, and by anger that Melcher should be squeezing for every penny he could get, Jesse was plagued by an idea that would not desist. Suppose they settled enough money on the vulture to set him up for life?

Suppose they made the damn fool so rich that he could settle down in one place and sell shoes till hell froze over? Suppose they fixed him up comfy and cozy right here where all he'd need next was a woman to settle with? As distasteful as it was, it would at least salve Jesse DuFrayne's conscience over last night.

If he could arrange it, Abbie would end up with everything she'd ever need or want—that sheep-faced shoe peddler, the means to set up a substantial business, and enough money to keep the two of them in red kidskin for the rest of their lackluster lives! DuFrayne again pictured Abbie's face as she'd come to him last night, saying, "David Melcher is gone and he shall never return. You're my last chance, Jesse."

Glimmers of what had followed painted Jesse's mind. She was a woman with too much fire to be wasted on the likes of Melcher, but she was probably right in assuming that Stuart's Junction offered no better alternatives. Better she should have Melcher to shower a few sparks on than burn for nobody at all. He came out of his ruminations and picked up the thread of argument still going on.

"… hardly think the sentence of life as a partial cripple would be considered nothing if this were taken to court, do you? You must consider the fact also that Mr. Melcher thought he was
defending
the railroad against what he considered an armed thief." Crowley's tone sounded slightly smug, and at last Hudson lost patience.

"Mr. Crowley," he rebutted testily, "I want to get something straight for the record. I'm tired of DuFrayne's name being bandied about as a train robber when it's the most preposterous accusation in the world! Now I ask you, why would any man want to rob his own train?"

"Jim!" barked DuFrayne, but his friend paid him little mind.

"Yes, you heard me correctly. You see, gentlemen, Jesse DuFrayne is a major shareholder of stock in the R.M.R. In other words, he owns the railroad!—which he is accused of robbing."

In his corner, Max sat like a katydid with stilled wings. Crowley looked like he was trying to spit up a goose egg caught in his throat. Melcher looked like he was trying to swallow one. DuFrayne sat like a stone, facing the window, staring at the blue sky beyond, where a tip of the water tank showed. Hudson waited for the spell to take full effect. Melcher was the first to speak.

"If you think that this changes what you owe Miss Abigail, it doesn't. Your being a big railroad owner in no way excuses your actions toward her. You may be innocent of robbing that train, but where she is concerned, you are guilty of the most grossly unforgivable breaches of con—"

"Pay him!" Jesse snapped with agate hardness, attempting to shut the man up, for by now Jesse had become aware of the station agent, gawking like a hawk from his corner. The man had ears, and it didn't take much straining to hear everything being said in the room.

"Now wait a minute, Jess—"

"I said pay him, Jim, and I mean it," barked DuFrayne.

Melcher couldn't believe his ears. Only a moment ago he'd have sworn all chance for monetary gain was nil, realizing how thoroughly he'd misjudged DuFrayne's intentions aboard that train. Still, he could not hold his tongue.

"Conscience money is just as sp—"

"And you shut up, little man, if you want so much as a penny out of me!" Jesse spit, jumping to his feet, pointing a finger. "Jim, just do as I say."

"Now wait a minute, Jess, the railroad is partly mine. I want some satisfaction out of this before we just hand him what he wants."

Suddenly DuFrayne lurched around. The scrape of chair legs made Melcher twitch back from the table.

"I want to talk to you outside, Jim." DuFrayne was oblivious to the curious stares from across the street.

He stood steely, furious, on the depot porch, his thumbs hooked into his waistcoat pockets, eyes narrowed vacantly at the gold pans hanging on display before a store across the way.

"Jess, I had to tell them about your ownership," Hudson reasoned.

"That's all right, Jim, it was bound to come out sooner or later. I just didn't want Abbie to find out about it before I left town, that's all."

"There's something going on here that I don't understand and maybe it's none of my business, but I just want you to think of what you're doing before you make any rash decisions about handing over what that leech wants."

"I've been considering it and my mind is made up."

"You're sure?"

"With several stipulations, and with the understanding that the money paid to Melcher is from my profits only, not yours."

They spoke quietly for several minutes, then reentered the station and took their places at the makeshift table.

"Mr. Crowley," Hudson addressed the man rather than his client, "if the railroad agrees to imburse Mr.

Melcher ten thousand for damages, we will in turn demand that certain stipulations be fulfilled by him.

First, Melcher will issue a statement to the local newspaper to the effect the railroad was in no way liable for this incident due to the fact that Me DuFrayne was carrying a gun, but only to the extent that your client was aboard one of our coaches when he was shot. The statement must in no way denigrate Mr DuFrayne's name or that of Miss Abigail McKenzie but shall instead make it explicitly clear that Me DuFrayne was indeed not robbing the train, but that Mr Melcher misjudged DuFrayne's intentions at the time. He may indicate that he acted for what he thought was the good of the passengers if he wishes, but that is the only defense he must give for his actions.

"Our second stipulation is that Mr. Melcher invest no less than two-thirds of this settlement money in a business or livelihood based in Stuart's Junction. He may choose whatever type of venture he wishes, but it must be in this town and it cannot be sold within the next five years.

"The third stipulation is that Mr. Melcher, personally, never again ride aboard an R.M.R. train. He may, of course, use the railroad to further his business venture by transporting goods, but he himself shall never again set foot on one of our coaches.

"We shall want these terms validated in writing and notarized, and of course there shall be an inclusion stating that if any of these terms are not fulfilled Me Melcher shall be liable to repay the R.M.R. the full amount of ten thousand dollars upon demand."

Crowley raised a silent, inquiring eyebrow at Melcher, who still floundered in the backwash of shock.

Not only was DuFrayne vindicated of attempted robbery, he was rich enough and powerful enough to put the final nod to a settlement of ten thousand dollars of what, in retrospect, was his own capital anyway! The fact made Melcher's face flame and his hands shake. He clearly did not understand the man's reasons for stipulating that the money be reinvested in Stuart's Junction, but he was certainly not about to inquire. It was appalling enough to be subjected to the man's self-satisfied supremacy without being subjected to his reasoning, which might be as galling as the fact that he was issuing ultimatums in the first place.

"I will agree," Melcher stated flatly, "but with one condition of my own."

"And that?" Hudson asked.

"That DuFrayne pr… privately apologize to Miss Me… McKenzie."

"You go too far, Melcher!" DuFrayne warned stormily, his face now livid. "Any animosity between Miss McKenzie and myself has no bearing on this bargaining session and, furthermore, is none of your business!"

"You made it my business, sir, one morning when you took gross liberties in her bedroom right before my eyes!"

"
Enough
!" roared DuFrayne, while Max nearly swallowed his tongue. The big man took to his feet, bumping the table and nearly upsetting it, sending the water pitcher careening precariously, glasses teetering. One circled and finally tipped, sending a splash of water over the table edge onto Melcher's lap while DuFrayne, with feet aspraddle, glared venomously, clenching his fists. "Our differences are settled, Abbie's and mine, so say no more of her, do you hear? You can take your ten thousand in blood money or toe money or whatever you choose to call it and live in splendor the rest of your days, or you can watch me walk out of here with the control of it still in my pocket and never see me again! Now which will it be?"

Melcher glared at the black moustache, envisioning again that bold, bare body that had taunted both him and Miss Abigail, wishing fervently that the bullet had struck DuFrayne's anatomy about four inches to the left of where it had! But were he to voice his thought, he stood to lose ten thousand dollars of this devil's own lucre. Neither did he doubt that DuFrayne meant it when he said one more word and David would see his back but not his money. And so David bit his tongue, daring not to insist again on the apology he so badly wanted for Miss Abigail. His Adam's apple bulged where his pride was stuck in his throat. But he only nodded woodenly.

"Very well. I'll give the newspapers only the answers you want, but don't you ever come back to Stuart's Junction again, DuFrayne. You have no reason to." They both knew he alluded to Abigail McKenzie, but DuFrayne carefully thrust one last riposte at Melcher.

"You're forgetting, Melcher, that I own property here, some of which you are standing upon at this very minute. Don't dictate to me where I can and cannot go… in business interests, of course," he finished sarcastically, with one eyebrow quirked.

Hudson interjected, "There seems little more to be said here," attempting to dull the animosity between the two and draw an end to the proceeding before they came to blows. "Mr Crowley, if you will remain, we can draw up the agreement, have it verified before I leave town, and we will see about getting a bank draft to Me Melcher within three days at whatever destination he signifies. You understand that Me DuFrayne will have to free that amount personally from his accounts in Denver."

"Yes, I understand. If that is agreeable to Mr Melcher, that is agreeable to me."

Melcher stood stiffly.

When things broke up, Hudson and DuFrayne stepped outside into the arid midday heat, which didn't help Jesse's temper any.

"What the hell's wrong with you anyway, Jess?" Hudson took his friend's elbow as if to cool his temper

"I've never seen you quite this defensive and belligerent over a woman before."

"Woman, hell! I just signed over ten thousand of my hard-earned bucks to that pipsqueak in there! How the hell would you feel?"

"Now hold on, Jess. You're the one who said give it to him, and I gathered at the time it was as much to shut him up as for any other reason. Just what did go on up there at Miss McKenzie's house anyway?"

Jesse's eyes moved to the gable of Abbie's house, visible beyond the false-fronted saddlery and harness shop. His stare was mechanical, his lips taut as he replied, "You have an inquisitive mind, Jim, and I have a temper. And that's why you do the business and I do the field work. Let's just keep it that way, only reserve your inquisitions for the likes of Melcher there, old buddy, huh?"

"All right… as you like it. But if you're after preserving Miss McKenzie's reputation, how about that station agent with his cocked ear and bulging eyes? I don't know what that remark meant, about your taking liberties in the bedroom of the lady in question, but it could come to have all kinds of unexpected ramifications once it rolls off the tongue of our station agent. Shall I go inside and bribe him or will you?"

"Goddamnit, Jim, didn't I take enough abuse from Melcher with you adding to it?"

But Hudson understood his friend's frustration, thus his scolding was taken with a grain of salt. But there was something eating Jess that he wasn't letting on about. Hudson couldn't help but wonder exactly what it was.

"Just trying to be practical," Hudson added.

"Well, you go on inside and be practical any way you see fit. I've already lost enough…
practicality
for one day."

They made arrangements to meet back at the hotel just before train time, then Hudson went back into the depot while DuFrayne made for the local saloon, to be stared at by everybody in the place except Ernie Turner, who was sound asleep with his head in a puddle of sweat from his beer glass.

r

e

v

i o

u

s

T

o

p

N

e

x

t

From the second-story window in his hotel room on Main Street, David Melcher watched Hudson and DuFrayne board the 3:20. He had done as promised, had given the newspaper only the information agreed upon, yet it vexed Melcher mercilessly to have had to gild DuFrayne in any way whatsoever It would vex him even more to accidentally run into DuFrayne at Miss Abigail's house again, thus he waited until DuFrayne was safely aboard the train and it had ground its way out of town.

Then and only then did David Melcher allow his victory to overwhelm him, to make him smile at its limitless possibilities. The thought of owning ten thousand dollars elated him, and he hummed as he changed clothes and brushed his hair, thinking of the sudden rosy future ahead of him. By the time he arrived at Miss Abigail's doorstep, he was beaming like the headlamp of an R.M.R. engine.

"Why, Me Melcher, you're early!" she said when she saw him there. But she was relieved to have his company, for the past five hours had been the longest of her life. Not only had her imagination run rife with scenes from the meeting at the depot, she had had to allow it to run its course with visions of Jesse boarding the 3:20, which she could not see from her place, and riding out of Stuart's Junction in that stunning suit, with his likable friend, James Hudson, the two of them never to return again. When the steam whistle raised its billow of white above the rooftops and sighed its departing scream, she had crossed her arms tightly across her chest and thought, Good. He is getting out of my life forever But when the last clack of wheels had died away into summer silence, she had felt suddenly bereft and lonely.