Читать книгу Rattler - Barry Andrew Chambers - Страница 9

When the Dodge City office opened, I was recovering from my broken leg and doing some filing for The Service. Mr. Hansel retired and was replaced by his nephew, Jacob Specks.

At thirty-three, Jacob was a little green for such a job, but he was a proven field agent and humbled by the appointment. Two days after the cast was removed from my leg, Jacob summoned me to his office.

I found him behind that same oak desk of Hansel’s—the one from St. Louis. Jacob was reading a report and didn’t look up as he pointed to a chair.

“Take a seat Rattler. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

I sat quietly as he finished reading the report. He nodded as he read, his lips moving with the words. Then he put the report down and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I need a drink,” he said to no one in particular.

“You’re not supposed to drink on duty, sir.”

He looked up at the ceiling and smiled ruefully. “That’s exactly right, Rattler.” He laughed and kept on laughing.

That’s when I realized he’d already had that drink. To remind him that I was still present, I spoke. “Why did you want to see me sir?”

He sobered up immediately.

“I have something for you.”

“Yes sir?”

“It’s a little dangerous.”

So far, this was nothing new. “How can I be of service, Mr. Specks?”

He stood up and looked out the window. What he was looking at, I don’t know, but it was something serious. Then he turned. “I was going to assign this job to Gator, but he turned me down.”

In The Service, you are not allowed to turn down a job. The fact that Specks allowed it to be turned down was startling enough, but the fact that it was Gator, made it plumb unbelievable. Gator was a legend. His deeds were legend. I’d list his exploits and all of the men he had killed, but you would stop reading and my credibility would be shot.

“Gator turned you down? What do I have to do? Go to the north pole and wrestle a polar bear naked?”

This struck Jacob Specks as terribly funny and he let out a stream of guffaws mixed with profanity. With each guffaw, I smelled scotch.

“No, no, nothing like that,” he said, attempting sobriety.

“But you said it was dangerous.”

“Hell yes, it’s dangerous. Gator just felt that the assignment was beneath him.”

“What if I feel it’s beneath me?”

“It won’t be. You don’t have Gator’s seniority.” He looked down at the report, and then at me. “I want you to go over to Clearview and take my cousin Benita to the opera.”

The ex-teacher in me felt a twinge of excitement. I had gone to the opera with my parents in Denver. I didn’t understand the language, but the music gloriously washed over me, clinging to the contours of my soul and finding a home in my tongue, which I hummed for years. In The Service I’d had the opportunity to go to the opera houses in St. Louis, Chicago, and Kansas City. I even got Harlon Shanks and his wife to go. Nedda Shanks became a member of The Opera League and was a loyal season subscriber. I do get a little verbose when it comes to expounding on the virtues of Puccini, Mozart, and Handel.

The agent in me was suspicious about this Clearview assignment. Why dangerous? “I don’t understand sir. Is Benita a rough girl or something?”

“No Rattler. She’s quite nice, but she needs an escort. She told Uncle Hansel that a man has been following her.”

“You think the man is a danger to her?”

Specks pushed a file at me. “The man’s name is Lewis Featherston. He’s head of security at Anglin Cattle Company. Benita works in their office in Clearview.”

“Security man, huh? That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Open the file.”

In the file was a wanted poster of a man named Allan Coletrane, alias Frenchy Duvois, alias Cole Allan.

“Read the file, Rattler.” He stood up. “I’ll leave you alone to look it over.” With that, he closed the door.

I opened the file. The title read ALLAN COLETRANE-PROFILE. It was broken up in a series of paragraphs with eye witness accounts. The first account was from a Joe Previn. He had been in a bank holdup by Coletrane and his gang. It was written in Joe Previn’s hand, in a conversational style. It read as follows:

Date: August 24, 1867

Location: Denton Falls, Kentucky

Subject: Joe Previn

I was in the bank to make a deposit. Dolly Cantwell was there with four other customers. I knew Dolly from her job at the notions shop. I knew the faces of two other customers. One was a man I’d seen at the cattle auctions every month. We had a nodding acquaintance. The other gentleman that I recognized, worked in the courthouse records department. A young couple was also there. Newlyweds I believe. They were there to open a new account.

As I was filling out my payment slip, five masked men entered. The leader was a big man with a red bandana over his face. He had a shotgun. Two had carbines and the others had their pistols. I noticed that one pistol was a .44 revolver. I remember that, because I had one just like it.

Before Monte, the old security guard, could pull his gun, the leader rammed the butt of his weapon into Monte’s face. He fell back, hitting his head against the wall. Although he was unconscious, his breathing was shallow. He would die an hour later, but at the time I ad no idea his injury was that serious.

“Everyone empty your hands!” the robber yelled.

Dolly Cantwell fainted right off. The young bride squeaked as she dropped her purse.

“Empty your pockets,” he commanded.

Wallets hit the floor. I threw my dollar roll down. Without warning, the one they called Coletrane shoved the man I knew from the cattle auction and he fell on his seat.

“Wha…?” Before he could say another word, Coletrane kicked him in the head. He was out immediately. Blood spilled from his nose onto the floor.

“All tellers, out now!” yelled the leader. The two tellers came out from behind the counter with their hands up. Two of the outlaws walked to the money drawers and started putting money into the carpetbags they had brought with them. Coletrane pointed to the two fallen men. “Does anyone else want this?” We were in shock. No one made a move. He waved his shotgun at all of us. “Okay, everyone take off your jewelry and strip off your clothes—that means you too, ladies.”

The newlyweds held each other. Dolly, who was coming out of her swoon, looked up from her position in disbelief. The only reason I could figure that he wanted us to strip was to keep us in line. Or maybe he got some sort of pleasure from it. It was hard to tell.

Apparently we didn’t react fast enough. Coletrane kicked the nearest teller between the legs. The man crumpled in agony as both of the women screamed. Coletrane pointed to the other teller who was already shucking his coat.

“You. Get undressed and go open the safe.” The teller nodded as he unbuttoned his trousers. I was pulling off my tie and tossed my hat over my money roll. One of the bad men kicked my hat.

“Don’t get smart,” he warned. He picked up my money roll and tossed it to one of the men behind the counter. Coletrane was looking at me with malice. He was about to walk over to me when the man from the cattle auction moaned. It got Coletrane’s attention. As he looked back, he spotted the newlyweds. He started to watch the young woman disrobe.

I was down to my underwear. So was the man who worked at the courthouse. Clothes littered the floor. One of the masked men collected the wallets and jewelry that were on the floor. The teller walked to the back where the safe was. A masked man behind the counter followed him.

Dolly was up. She was slowly undressing. I was embarrassed for her. I didn’t know if we would survive this ordeal. I did know that we would never be able to look at each other in the same way. I’m a Christian man. I turned as Dolly got down to her bloomers.

The men in the back came out with four carpetbags loaded with money. Coletrane looked over at his look-out and asked, “How we doing?”

“It’s all clear,” said the look-out.

Coletrane nodded and leveled his shotgun at the young couple. The husband was skinny with almost hairless legs under his shorts. She wore a corset and bloomers.

“You’re coming with us,” he told the girl.

“Like hell!” said her husband. He made a move towards Coletrane.

The young girl grabbed him by the shoulder. “Jimmy, please!”

Half of Jimmy’s face disappeared with the shotgun blast. For a long, three seconds, he just stood there. Brains and skull dripped to the floor. He let out a groan, then his knees buckled. When both of his kneecaps cracked on the floor, his young wife screamed.

Then, Coletrane laughed. He held his belly and gave a long, lusty laugh. My blood ran cold. I could not understand evil like this.

While Coletrane was laughing, there was another shock. The girl leaped halfway across the lobby. She was on Coletrane like a wildcat. In one move, she scraped her nails across his face and pulled down his bandana. She kicked him in the knee and pulled his hair. Coletrane dropped the shotgun and howled.

“Agguuuh!” She actually had him backpedaling. I looked out the window and saw people running toward the bank. They had been alerted by the shotgun fire. Leading the pack was Deputy Morris.

“We’ve got trouble!” yelled the lookout.

Coletrane was getting all the trouble he needed from the girl. Sympathy and admiration coursed through my veins. Then he coldcocked her on the chin. She flew back across the room like a rag doll.

“Take her!” yelled Coletrane. Two of his men grabbed the unconscious girl.

I knew what God wanted of me. I expected a bullet in the gut, but I had to do something. I ran for the nearest masked man. I thought that if I could grab his gun and start firing, it might save some lives. I didn’t see the masked fella behind me, but I felt his .44 slap me upside the head. I fell and slid across the floor.

Just as Deputy Morris reached the door, Coletrane blew a hole in him. Seven others in the street reached for their guns to return fire, but Coletrane and his men were throwing a volley of bullets into the crowd.

My eyes were suddenly bleary and my stomach wanted to give back breakfast. Through a haze, I saw the bad men running out of the bank with their carpetbags. One had the young wife slung over his shoulder. They were firing their guns and using her for cover. People were scattering. About that time, I fainted.

Later, the sheriff showed me wanted posters of Allan Coletrane. I recognized him easily and identified him to the law. That day, he killed Deputy Morris, Monte, the young husband, and three others in the street. The young woman they took was found behind a dump in the next town. She had been torn up by Coletrane and his gang. She died a few weeks later.

At the bottom of the affidavit was the neat, thoughtful signature of Joe Previn. I glanced through similar witness accounts of murder, robbery, and mayhem. The trail ended in Texas, sixteen years ago when he killed a Ranger.

I closed the file. Allan Coletrane. Was this also Lewis Featherston? Was this the man giving his unwanted attentions to Benita, Jacob’s cousin, niece of Mr. Hansel, the former Service Director?

The room was still. For the first time, I noticed an overhead fan clicking in the quiet. I pushed the file away from me. I felt slimy reading those accounts…getting inside Coletrane’s world. After a few moments, Jacob Specks entered the office. I slapped my hand on the top of the file.

“Lewis Featherson?” I asked.

“We think so.” This man had a long list of crimes from armed robbery to murder, to rape.

“He’s vermin…pure vermin,” I said.

“We have another file on him.”

“There’s another file?”

He nodded. “We started a new one when our man in Clearview spotted him.”

The Service had agents working in mining camps, banks, cattle companies, all sorts of places where crime could happen.

Specks continued, “He’s not sure if Featherston is Alan Coletrane. You have to add about twenty years to that picture and a little more weight in the face. Shave off the mustache in your mind.”

I did all of that as I looked at the picture.

“As luck would have it, Featherston spotted Benita in the office. He asked her to go to some dance with him, but she didn’t like him. He’s sent her flowers and goes by the office frequently, but she keeps rejecting his advances.”

I nodded, working out a scenario in my head. It was the logical choice. “So I put up a front. I’m Benita’s out of town boyfriend. He’ll either leave her alone, or if he really is Coletrane, he might come after me.”

“Something like that. When our man spotted Featherston about two months ago, we put in a second agent. Then, Featherston turned his attentions on Benita.”

“Who are your agents?”

“Bear and Arrow.”

I didn’t recognize the two names.

“Bear will contact you when you get to Clearview.”

I nodded.

“What’s my cover?”

Specks laughed. “You’re going to be a school teacher.”