Riverboat Blaze (11 page)

“Doesn’t sound like Dillon’s going to have anyone to blame,” Jerry said.

“Unless it
was
sabotage,” Clint said. “There
was
an explosion, and it didn’t come from the steam engines.”

“Maybe we’ll know more by the end of today,” Jerry offered.

“I hope so.”

 

When they reached the
Dolly Madison
, Clint looked around carefully, studying both shores. He wasn’t looking for survivors or bodies. If Angela was right about the gold on the boat, and if anyone else knew about it, somebody might have already been there to try to salvage it. But they’d need a hell of a boat if there was as much gold as she’d indicated.

He didn’t see anyone about as they pulled up alongside the huge riverboat.

McKay and his men, along with Jerry, went to work belowdecks while Clint took another look around the upper decks to see if anyone was around. After a careful search he determined no one else was on board, and it didn’t look like anyone had been there trying to salvage anything. Not yet, anyway.

He went back down to the lower deck, where he waded to where the men were working.

McKay and Jerry was standing there, waiting for the two men who were underwater.

“We can’t find anything other than that hole that was blown in the side,” McKay said. “Definitely looks like it was done deliberately.”

“Have your men taken a look at the cargo hold?” Clint asked.

“No, why would we?”

“Just to be thorough.”

McKay didn’t seem to understand that. “Are you askin’ me to have my men lookin’ at the hold for some reason?”

“Nope,” Clint said, “I’m just asking questions. Maybe my questions are uninformed.”

“I think they might be,” McKay said.

“I wish I could get down there to take a look,” Jerry said. “I think I’m a little too old to be diving, though.”

“Maybe you can get a look from the outside,” McKay said. “We can take the boat around to that side.”

Clint doubted that. It seemed to him that if the hole was underwater, Jerry wouldn’t be able to examine it whether he was inside or outside.

But then again, he kept his mouth shut because he was uninformed.

Watching from shore, careful to stay under cover, were three men.

“What if they’re there for the gold?” one of them asked.

“They’re not,” the leader said. He was the man who had been in Angela’s room.

“How can you tell?” the third man asked.

“They’re not outfitted to salvage it.”

“We ain’t either,” the first man said. “We need a big boat.”

“We don’t need a boat,” the leader said. “The captain managed to get that boat right in the perfect spot for us. We’re gonna salvage that gold from shore. We ain’t lookin’ to float upriver with it.”

“How we gonna take it then?”

“We’ll need a strong buckboard and a good team,” the man said.

“How we gonna get it from the water to the shore?” the first man said.

“That,” the leader said, “is somethin’ I’m still workin’ on.”

 

Clint went up to the wheelhouse to see what Captain Hatton had seen when he was operating the
Dolly Madison
. From there he once again took a long look at both shores, and was about to leave the bridge when he thought he saw something on the Louisiana side. He stared and kept staring, until he saw it again. The glint of sun off of something. He remained where he was until he saw it yet again, and then he was sure.

They were being watched from shore.

He thought about bringing this to the attention of McKay and Jerry Sumner, but then thought again. What would be the point? They weren’t concerned with anything but the condition of the boat. What did they care if they were being watched?

In fact, Clint wouldn’t have cared, either, except that Angela had told him about the gold. The whole point of blowing a hole in the side of the boat and sinking it might have been to steal the gold. Maybe the thieves were watching, waiting for their chance to swoop in and grab it.

Only how would they do that? If Angela was right about how much there was, it would take a lot of men to get it out of the water and either into another boat or to the shore.

Clint left the wheelhouse and headed back down to the first deck.

He found McKay standing on the deck while his two men were taking Jerry on the flatboat to see what he could see of the
Dolly
’s damage from the outside.

“McKay,” he asked, “am I correct that it would be quicker to get here from Vicksburg on horseback than by the river?”

“Definitely,” McKay said. “With all the twists and turns in the river, a man on a horse or even on a buckboard would get here much faster.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Why?”

“Oh, just satisfying myself that I was right,” Clint said.

McKay shrugged the question off and walked to the port side of the boat to look down at his men and Jerry.

“What about a guard?” Clint asked McKay when it was time for them to leave.

“Whataya mean?”

“I mean leaving somebody here with a gun to guard the boat.”

“What for? Nobody can steal the boat.”

“Yeah, but what about the cargo?”

“Is there something in the cargo that’s worth stealin’?” McKay asked.

“I don’t know,” Clint lied. “But what about the boat being stripped? There are some expensive furnishings on board.”

“I can’t worry about that, Adams,” McKay said. “That’s for the law, or the owner, to worry about. My job is done and I have to go back and make my report.”

“That’s fine,” Clint said.

McKay and his men stepped from the
Dolly Madison
to the flatboat, followed by Jerry and Clint.

Once on the boat, Clint took another look over at the Louisiana shoreline to see if he could spot the watchers.

“What are you lookin’ for?” Jerry asked.

“I thought I saw something on shore.”

“Survivors?”

“I don’t know,” Clint said. “Just a glint.”

“Maybe when we get back, you can have somebody take a look.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

They didn’t talk about it the rest of the way.

 

When they got to Vicksburg, they split up. Jerry went back to the Anchor Line offices with McKay and his men to make a report. Clint went back to his hotel, but he didn’t go to his own room. He went to Angela’s. When she opened her door to his knock, she looked relieved.

“I’ve been lookin’ for you,” she said.

“Well, here I am.”

“Come on in before somebody sees you,” she said, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him inside. She slammed the door and turned to face him.

“I’ve decided to tell you the truth,” she said.

“All of it?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

“It’s not going to work unless you tell me the whole truth, Angela.”

“All right,” she said, “all of it.”

He sat on the bed. “Go ahead.”

“Can’t you buy me somethin’ to eat while we talk? I’ve been lookin’ for you all day.”

He realized he was hungry from his day on the river. “All right, let’s go across the street—that is, if you’re not afraid to be seen with me.”

“I’ll take the chance,” she said. “I’m that hungry.”

They went to the same café and ordered two steak dinners.

“All right,” he said while they were waiting. “Talk.”

She poured them each a cup of coffee from the pot on the table.

“His name is Tate Barnum,” she said. “He found out about the gold being shipped upriver on the
Dolly Madison
. It was his idea for me to meet Dillon, get him to like me and hire me as a dealer.”

“So you could keep an eye on the gold?”

“So I would know everything that was being planned for the boat.”

“Do you know who shipped the gold?”

“No,” she said, “but Tate said it’s stolen, so when we steal it, it can’t be reported.”

“How does your friend Tate intend to get it off the boat?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know which side of the river he’s going to do it from?”

“The Louisiana side, I think.”

“I thought I saw somebody watching us from that side today.”

“Probably him.”

“Does he have men with him?”

“Yes, but I don’t know how many.”

“You’re telling me a lot without telling me a lot, Angela,” he said.

“I’m tellin’ you all I know, Clint,” she said.

“Have you seen Tate since we arrived?”

“Yes,” she said. “He was in my room yesterday when I got back.”

“And what did he have to say?”

“He threatened me, told me not to say anything to you about the gold. Or to anyone else.”

“And why are you telling me?”

She leaned forward. “Because if it’s stolen, and he intends to steal it, then we can steal it from him. It ain’t illegal.”

“Stealing is illegal no matter who does it, Angela,” he said. “And no matter who you steal from.”

“But Tate said since we didn’t take it in the first place—”

“If it’s stolen and you know it, you have an obligation to see that it’s returned to the rightful owner.”

“A legal obligation?” she asked.

He hesitated. He couldn’t cite the law word for word.

“Well, a moral one,” he said.

“But if it’s moral, and it ain’t legal, then we could do it.”

The waiter came with their steaks.

“Eat your food and let me think about this a little,” he said.

He had no intention of stealing the gold—not for himself, anyway. But with her help he could make sure that Tate Barnum didn’t get away with it, and that the original thieves didn’t, either.

The question was, how?

After they finished their food and desert, Angela asked, “So what do you think?”

“I think I should go across the river and see what I can see,” he replied. “Do you know what town he’s in over there?”

“Nearest one, I guess.”

“I’ll have to find out where that is. What’s he look like?”

She described him. Young, tall, handsome.

“If he’s all that,” he said, “why do you want to join with me and steal the gold from him?”

“Because he’s mean,” she said. “And because you’re the Gunsmith. Workin’ with you, I think we can get away with it.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said. “Come on. You better get back to the hotel.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’ve got some research to do.”

After leaving her at the hotel, Clint went directly to the nearest telegraph office. He sent two telegrams, one to his friend Rick Hartman in Labyrinth, Texas, and one to his private detective friend, Talbot Roper, in San Francisco. Both men had extensive networks across the country that they could get information from. Clint asked them to find out anything they could about the theft of a large amount of gold.

After leaving the telegraph office, he walked to the police station. Chief Radcliffe saw Clint in his office and offered him some coffee.

“Thanks, Chief.”

Radcliffe poured two cups, carried them back to his desk, and handed Clint one.

“What’s on your mind, Mr. Adams?”

“Louisiana, Chief,” Clint said. “What town is across the river from here? And I mean a town of some size.”

“That’d be Bedford. Not a big town.”

“Are you familiar with the law in that town?”

“Sure. Sheriff Toby Farrell.”

“Good man?”

“Not so much.”

“Honest?”

“As the day is long. Why?”

“I think I might be needing his help,” Clint said.

“Does this have to do with the
Dolly Madison
?” the chief asked.