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.”
Chapter Four
Taking a woman to the opera didn’t sound too dangerous, but not finding the right horse can be. I suppose I’d better explain.
As a school teacher, I owned a nag named Shelley. When I went to work for The Service, I gave Shelley to Spider Lee Templeton, a fourteen-year-old who won our annual spelling bee. Spider looked at the old girl with the battered saddle and asked me if she was the prize for winning the spelling bee. I said yes. His eyes glistened.
“I’ve always wanted a horse like her,” said Spider. “Maybe arithmetic should be my next subject to conquer.” I was perplexed by his statement. He saw that I was confused and added, “I expect to get a rickety, old wagon to go with Shelley when I win the arithmetic contest.”
In The Service, I rode buckboards, stage coaches, trains, and boats. I even rented a horse now and then. On the job where I jumped off the cliff and broke my leg, I decided I needed a horse of my own.
A week before leaving for Clearview, I stopped off at the Dodge City Livery. I was already in my character as a school teacher. Mr. Cavez, who ran the stable, showed me some handsome mounts.
“I don’t have a lot to spend, being a teacher and all.” This was true. I played my role to the hilt.
Mr. Cavez scratched his chin. “I believe I have what you’re looking for young fella. Follow me.”
He took me in back where there was a horse tethered to a hitching post. It was not a large horse…sort of overweight. Short and stumpy. She was red with a black mane and black tail.
“There she is. Her name is Pandora.”
“Pandora,” I muttered.
The horse looked up as if she’d heard me. Then, the strangest thing happened. She grinned at me. At least it looked like she grinned.
“She was with the circus,” said Cavez. “Trick horse or something.”
“Why is she here?”
“The circus gave her to me when they came through town.”
“Gave her to you? What’s wrong with her?”
“They told me she wouldn’t jump off a diving board into a tank of water.”
Smart horse, I thought.
Mr. Cavez unhitched her as he spoke. “They gave another horse the job—told me Pandora was worthless when it came to diving off high places. I tried her as a plow horse, but that didn’t work. She wouldn’t pull a plow or haul rocks.”
He gave me a sly look as he patted her flank. “She’s a gentle ride though. You can have her for twenty dollars.”
The deal was too good. “Why should I pay you twenty dollars if you got her for free?”
“The saddle that comes with her is worth twenty dollars.”
Pandora spied a carton of empty milk bottles. She put her mouth on one and pulled it out of the box. Then she tossed her head back, sending the milk bottle flying through the air. It shattered on a discarded anvil about twenty feet away. There were more broken bottles lying at the base of the anvil, previous victims of Pandora. She sure had good aim.
“Is that one of her tricks?” I asked.
“No,” Cavez said darkly. “I’ll let you have her for ten dollars.”
Pandora looked back over her shoulder at me and gave that smile. Cavez was sweating. “Okay, I’ll let her go for five dollars. Five dollars! You can’t turn that down.”
I could turn it down, but something told me that Pandora was the horse for me. Besides, five dollars for a twenty dollar saddle wasn’t something to sniff at. I stuck my hand out. “Deal.”
Cavez pumped my hand enthusiastically. I think I saw a tear of gratitude form at the corner of his right eye. “Gracias. Mucho gracias sir.”
I took Pandora out for our first ride. There was a grassy area outside of Dodge City that was relatively flat. I gave her a light slap on the rump and she cantered along a wooden fence that outlined the meadow.
“Okay Pandora, let’s go.”
At my command, I was genuinely surprised when she went into a gentle, steady lope. We passed the fence and were in the open field. I reached back and popped her on the rump once more. “Come on girl, show me your stuff!”
She stayed at the gentle lope.
I