Bolger shook his head a little.

“The client had learned from the whore that Ballard had been making delivery runs up to the bridge camp before he did what he did at the whorehouse,” Bolger said.

“What else?” Virgil said.

“All I know is this fella,” Bolger said. “This client met with Ballard a few times and Ballard told me this guy hired him to make a special delivery for him.”

“You know who this client is?” I said.

“I don’t,” Bolger said.

“Know the whore?” Virgil said.

“No,” Bolger said. “Never met her.”

“But Ballard told you this?” I said.

“He did,” Bolger said. “He come to me, said he needed to use the team and the buckboard.”

Virgil looked to me, then back to Bolger.

“How’d you know the special delivery was dynamite?” Virgil said.

“Ballard told me,” Bolger said. “At first he was gonna cut me in on the deal.”

“At first?” Virgil said.

“Then he changed his mind,” Bolger said.

“Why?”

“That’s Ballard,” Bolger said.

“Tell us about that,” Virgil said.

“I told him he’d have to pay me good, ’cause it was my buckboard and I haven’t been even paid,” Bolger said. “I was out of money.”

“Then what?” Virgil said.

Bolger shook his head. “Ballard told me he wasn’t paying me shit. Said he’s taking the team and trailer, no matter.”

“What happened?” Virgil said.

Bolger shook his head, thinking.

“We goddamn got into it, mixed it up right there in front of them boys’ office,” Bolger said with a crack in his voice. “But Ballard . . . Ballard and me, we been into it enough in the past I knew when to back down. Once he gets going he don’t got no throttle.”

“He took the team and buckboard?” I said.

“He did,” Bolger said.

“What’d you do?” I said.

Bolger looked at me. His lip quivered a little.

“I stole some whiskey and got drunk,” he said.

“What else he tell you about the deal?” Virgil said.

“Nothing,” Bolger said, looking at the floor. “Nothing.”

Bolger shook his head a little. He looked up to Virgil, then me, then looked back to the floor and started crying.

Virgil looked at me.

“You’re doing good, Bolger,” I said.

“Sure,” Bolger said.

— 47 —

Book walked in the door just as we got Bolger back behind bars and closed the door between the office and the cells.

“Think he’s telling the truth?” Chastain said.

“Do,” Virgil said quietly. “He don’t got the necessary resources to conjure up something like this.”

“Poor bastard,” Chastain said.

Virgil nodded a little.

“What now?” Chastain said.

“Me and Everett need to make a trip to the Back Door, pay this Belle a visit. Figure out what we can about Ballard, the whore, and who the fella was that hired him.”

“You still think this Swickey is the man behind all this?” Chastain said.

“Could damn well be,” I said.

“I haven’t had any luck locating him yet,” Chastain said.

“Keep looking,” Virgil said.

“Maybe this Belle knows where he is,” I said.

“Maybe,” Virgil said. “If he does run cattle and has a big spread, he can’t be that hard to find.”

“We’ve contacted every census and court and scoured records but have come up empty, but we ain’t done. We’ll keep after it,” Chastain said.

“Good,” Virgil said.

Virgil and I left the office and walked up the street, headed for the north side of town.

The Back Door brothel was a newly reconstructed Victorian two-story house atop a tall foundation at the end of Reed Street.

Virgil and I climbed the long steps and knocked on the door. After a moment a distinguished-looking black man with a feather duster in his hand opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Won’t be open for business until later this afternoon, gentlemen.”

I showed him my badge.

“Not here for no business,” I said. “Need to see Belle.”

He leaned forward, looking at my badge, and nodded.

“I’ll let her know you are here,” he said, as he stepped back and let us in. “And you are?”

“Marshal Virgil Cole and Deputy Marshal Everett Hitch,” I said.

“Sure,” he said. “Please have a seat.”

Virgil and I sat in the parlor as he walked off down the hall.

We sat there and waited, and after a moment longer than we needed to wait, Belle entered.

We stood.

She was short and round, with a wide smile. It looked like in her day she was a pretty lady, but like most women of her trade, the years had caught up with her.

“You need to see me?” she said in a husky voice seasoned from years of smoke and whiskey.

“We do,” I said.

We introduced ourselves.

“I know you two,” she said with a smile. “Well, at least I know who you are. Sit.”

We sat.

“I’m sorry I’m not more put together,” Belle said, “but you caught me before I went about the three-hour process of making myself up, so it goes without saying you must come back so you can experience the amazing transformation.”

“Sure,” I said, in an effort to be polite.

“Just need to ask you a few questions,” Virgil said.

“I’ll answer what I can,” Belle said.

Virgil nodded.

“Swickey?” Virgil said.

“What about him?” Belle said.

“So you know him?” I said.

“I do,” she said. “Not real well, however.”

“When was he here last?”

“Oh, well, it’s been a few months, I think,” she said.

“He got a certain gal?” Virgil said.

“He did,” Belle said. “Kim.”

“Where can we find Kim?” I said.

“You can’t,” she said. “Not here, anyway. She moved on.”

“Know where she moved on to?”

“Yep,” Belle said. “She married one of her regulars and they moved back to Wichita Falls.”

“Swickey been back since?” Virgil said.

“No,” she said.

“What can you tell us about him?” I said.

“Well,” she said. “He’s a single man, he enjoys himself when he is here, and he spends a lot of money, but he’s been here only a few times. Like I said, he liked Kim, but she’s long gone.”

“You know where Swickey lives?” Virgil said.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” she said.

“You hired a man here named Ballard?” Virgil said.

We could tell she didn’t like the sound of the question.

“He’s no longer working here,” she said.

Virgil nodded.

“We know that,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not surprised he’s someone you are looking for.”

“Why?” I said.

“He’s a . . . how should I put this,” Belle said. “Ballard’s rough company.”

“Why’d you hire him?” I said.

“He had the credentials I was looking for,” Belle said.

“Which are?” I said.

“He’s intimidating,” Belle said. “He was what I was looking for. He collected for me.”

“You have any idea where he might be?” I said.

She shook her head.

“Not at all,” she said.

“Fair enough,” Virgil said.

“More importantly,” I said, “we are looking for one of your girls who introduced Ballard to one of your clients, maybe Swickey.”

Belle shook her head.

“I don’t know anything about that,” she said.

“This Kim,” I said. “Was she friendly with Ballard?”

“No,” Belle said. “Kim was intelligent and cautious, and she was not close to him that I know. Reason being she was close to me.”

“Was Ballard friendly with one woman in particular here?” I said.

“Don’t think so,” she said. “The girls liked him. Well, they liked to look at him.”

“What do you mean,” I said.

“Good-looking, got that thing about him women want. Silent, strong, but he’s a buck in the rut,” Belle said. “Full on, with the horns and all.”

“Describe him,” Virgil said.

“Well,” Belle said. “Like I say, he’s strong. He’s handsome as hell, a little over six foot, dark hair, full twist longhorn mustache. He sports a bowler with a white feather. He’s kind of flashy, has a pretty flashy smile. But like I tell ya, don’t be fooled, he’s rough company.”