“Neither.” Earp crossed his arms and kept his eye on the door. “It was a fair fight, just like you said, and I’ve got no reason to lock you up. But there’s been plenty of talk about you since you came to town, Trammel. You know that. You’ve kept your head down as much as you can, but that just makes people talk all the more. I’ve heard you were a policeman back in New York. I’ve heard you were a Pinkerton man, too. Some say you came here by choice. Others say you got thrown out of New York, though accounts on that score vary.”
Trammel looked up at Earp, feeling the old rage beginning to stoke in his belly again. He didn’t want another fight, but he could feel one might be coming. “Guess the only opinion that matters is yours, Deputy.”
“What I say doesn’t matter,” Earp said. “But what you do next matters a hell of a lot. I know you’re loyal to Miss Lilly. You should be. She’s a good woman who has been good to you. Now I think the time has come for you to repay the favor. The Bowman clan is going to come looking for blood, and a lot of good people are going to die when they do.”
“People like you?”
Earp smiled for the first time in the year since Trammel had known him. And it wasn’t a nice smile. “No, I won’t die. But others will. Some more Bowman kin. You, too.”
“Not likely,” Trammel said.
“They won’t come at you head-on, but sideways,” Earp went on. “Maybe they’ll go after someone close to you, someone more vulnerable, like Miss Lilly. I wouldn’t like that. And I have a feeling you’d like it even less.”
Trammel put the rag back on his wound. This time he didn’t wince. “No, I wouldn’t like that at all.”
“Which would lead to more killing,” Earp said. “You get paid to enforce the peace in here, but I get paid to enforce the law everywhere. I don’t have anything against the Bowman family. Their ranch is good for the town and, on the whole, they don’t cause as much trouble as some people in this town. But I don’t want to see them dead any more than I want to see you dead. I might not know much about you, but I think you know what you have to do next. If not for your sake, then for Miss Lilly’s well-being.”
Trammel knew. He had known it the second he’d realized both Bowman boys were dead. He just didn’t say it because saying something had a way of making it real. He didn’t want this to be real, but it was. It was as real as it got. He had to leave town. He had to leave the first real home he had ever known. “I’ll be ready to leave by sunup.”
Earp nodded once. “Best way all around. Just don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Not me and not Miss Lilly.”
Trammel wasn’t going to tell anyone anything. “I know what I’m doing.”
“I remember you came in here on the coach,” Earp went on. “You need a horse? Provisions?”
“I’ve got a horse in the livery and enough money to buy what I need if the store’s open in time.”
“Ben Hurly opens his shop early,” Earp said. “Best hit him up first. I’ll tell him to expect you.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a box of cartridges, and placed them on the bar. “This is for that fancy Winchester I hear you keep in your room. You’re going to need them.”
Trammel already had enough ammunition, but he appreciated the gesture all the same. “Thanks.”
Earp pushed himself off the bar and began walking out of the saloon, slow and easy. Over his shoulder, he said, “And you’re taking Hagen with you.”
Trammel stood before he realized it. “What? Why?”
“The Bowman family will want his scalp as much as they want yours. I’d arrest him for disturbing the peace and inciting violence, but the old man would only kill him as soon as I cut him loose. Best if you two ride off together. Save everyone a whole lot of trouble.”
“I’m not responsible for what happens to that drunken fool!” Trammel yelled.
Earp didn’t break his stride. “Well, you are now.”
“Damn it, Earp. That’s not . . . fair! Hell, I haven’t even been to bed yet.”
“This is Wichita, Trammel. Fair’s got nothing to do with it. Besides, you’re an old Pinkerton man, and Pinkerton men never sleep. Isn’t that your motto?”
Earp pushed his way through the batwing doors and stepped out into the dark Kansas night, leaving Stephen Trammel with only a bloody rag and no options.
Trammel cursed as he threw the rag behind the bar.
CHAPTER 3
Adam Hagen woke with a gasp as a bucket of ice-cold water soaked him to the bone.
Trammel thought the gambler would have fallen out of bed if he wasn’t already passed out on the floor of his room. “Time to get up, Hagen. We’ve got some riding to do.”
“Writing? What kind of writing?” Hagen pulled himself up on his hands and knees, only to fall over on his side. “What are you babbling on about?”
“Riding, as in a horse. Not writing with a pen. Get up.”
Hagen tried to sit upright but slipped on the soaked floor. “Now, see here my good man. I’m as fond of a joke as much as the next man, but it’s far too early in the morning for a joke. And my head aches far too much for levity.”
“And it’s too late for your nonsense.” Trammel grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up to a seated position onto the bed. He thought Hagen might fall over and was surprised when he didn’t. “We’ve got to get out of town, thanks to you, and we’ve got to get moving. Now.”
Trammel had crammed as many of Hagen’s things as he could into a single bag, but doubted he’d grabbed a quarter of it. Even though Hagan was a drunk and a gambler, he had come to town with three trunks jammed with clothes. Trammel had asked Lilly to keep the rest and ship it to Hagen at the first place he could drop him off without the Bowman family finding him.
“What about all of my things?” Hagen asked. “It will take me the better part of the morning to get everything together. Now, how about you sit down and let’s have a drink while we discuss this like civilized gentlemen.”
“No time for that.” He found a bowler and plopped it on Hagen’s head before taking the gambler by the arm and pulling him off the bed. He stuck the bag into his gut, which Hagen grabbed more out of reflex than intent, and pushed him out the door. “Let’s go. Now.”
Hagen surprised Trammel by making it down the stairs on his own steam, only missing the last step, but managed to maintain his balance anyway. Trammel figured the old saying was true: “God looks out for drunks and babies.” He hoped the same extended to the people who got stuck watching out for them.
He steered Hagen out back where he had their mounts saddled and ready. His own horse was a spirited brown roan the liveryman had told him was about four years old. She’d been a good horse to ride around the countryside on his rare days off, but he wondered how she might fare on the open trail.
In fact, Trammel wondered how he would fare on the open trail. He had ridden after men in the past when he had been a Pinkerton and knew something about living in the open, but his assignments had usually been confined to areas along train lines and towns and cities. And he had never been in the field alone. Not that he’d be alone with Hagen along, but given the drunkard’s state of mind, he’d practically be alone until Hagen sobered up.
He tied Hagen’s bag to the horse he had procured for Hagen, an old gray that the liveryman swore on his children could survive a trek down to Texas and back. Trammel had no intention of putting that claim to the test.
While the gambler slumped on the