The Ledger

            Henry Dogwood stood behind the front desk of the Frontier Inn feverishly writing names and numbers in his ledger. He scribbled, licking his lips and crossing numbers out here and there to tally up the totals. After a few minutes, he saw his father’s green eyes staring across from him. He jumped, stabbing his finger with the pen as he did so.

            “Do you always have to do that?” Henry asked in annoyance, his finger throbbing with a few droplets of blood.

            “Grizzly,” Dogwood ignored his son’s question and cut straight to the chase. Henry glanced behind him to find Sam but he was noticeably absent.

            “Where is your law pup?”

            “Where are your manners?”

            “They must’ve left me,” Henry shuffled all his papers he had been tallying together on the desk to organize them. He walked over and pushed the stack neatly into a drawer while Dogwood patiently waited.

            “I told ya I ain’t helpin’,” Henry said pointedly, coming out from behind his desk. Dogwood and Henry stood eye to eye, their builds and jawlines nearly identical.

            “Do what I asked ya boy and don’t make me come in here twice,” Dogwood shook his head in disgust at his son. He was about to open the front door of the inn after walking away but Henry’s words stopped him.

            “And what if I don’t?”

            “You’ll do it,” Dogwood didn’t wait again. He stepped outside the rickety old inn. He mounted his horse and galloped away from the inn. Holly pushed the front door after him and came in with a worn smile on her face.

            “Your dad ain’t got sense comin’ back here,” Holly replied, walking past the desk to the back kitchen where she poured a cup of coffee.

            “I know he ain’t,” Henry followed her and stood against the kitchen counter.

            “What did he think ya would do for him anyway?” Holly poured cream into her mug and stirred it rapidly, setting the spoon onto the counter.

            “Help him I reckon.”

            “And why on earth would he reckon you’d help?”

            “I told him I would,” Henry swallowed hard as the words escaped his lips, bracing himself for Holly’s reaction. She nearly choked on her coffee.

            “You lied then?”

            “He’s my father.”

            “He’s a law dog. I picked you up off these streets after he left you almost nothin’ to your name. I hid you here in Denver because of that man.”

            “You ain’t hidin’ me none,” Henry refuted, wanting to end what was their most rehashed argument since his father’s return to Denver. He shut the door behind him as he glanced back at a couple eating breakfast in the small dining area.

            “I ain’t?” Holly scoffed, taking another long sip of coffee, “You were nothin’ before this inn. Now look atcha! Practically a fop.”

            “A fop?” Henry’s gray eyes narrowed. Her words had meant to comfort him but all they did was solidify where he was going next. He turned on his heel, pushing the door back open and grabbing his hat off the desk. Holly hustled after him as he pushed the front door of the inn open and found his horses reins. She stopped him, holding his reins in her hand.

            “I didn’t… mean it like that, Henry.”

            “I know how you meant it,” Henry climbed onto his horse and took the reins from her hands.

            “You ain’t gonna find nothin’. Men die in saloons all the time,” Holly called loudly to him as his horse disappeared into the crowd. She cursed under her breath as she stood on the front steps.

            Around midnight, Henry stood in the hotel waiting for his father. He looked around to ensure nobody had followed him as he sat at a table that overlooked the street. After waiting over an hour, Dogwood and Sam appeared on horseback, slinging their reins against the hitching post. Dogwood wasn’t surprised to see Henry but Sam was stunned. He disguised it quickly and stepped behind Dogwood.

            “Grizzly was a business partner,” Henry said quietly as Dogwood sat down at the table across from him. Sam stood back, glancing around the restaurant to see if anyone was listening. But the hotel and restaurant were quiet.

            “For Albright,” Dogwood murmured, absorbing the information, “You’re sure?”

            “I’m sure.”

            “And what of Penny?”

            “Engaged.”

            “We knew that,” Dogwood said dismissively, the news of her having the Albright family’s ring in his mind.

            “To Vincent’s son.”

            “We knew that too.”

            “His dead son,” Henry said pointedly, knowing it was not what his father was expecting.

            “You’re sure?” Dogwood repeated, his green eyes skeptical.

            “Of course I’m sure,” Henry was tired of his father’s questioning.

            “Then we need to find her,” Dogwood said pointedly, wondering if he had finally tied the case to her. Sam however was almost falling over in exhaustion.

            “Tomorrow,” Sam yawned and climbed the stairs to his room to sleep unable to keep his eyes open any longer. Dogwood rose to follow him.

            “You gonna thank me?” Henry asked as his father stood at the bottom of the stairs to go to his room to sleep. Dogwood turned his head towards his son.

            “Be here before first light.”

            “I ain’t gonna—” Henry began but Dogwood had already gone upstairs and left him standing there alone.

            In the hour before sunset, Henry stood nearby to the hotel. He had tossed and turned after he came home to another argument with Holly. She eventually gave him the cold shoulder and slept at the Buffalo Saloon. A childhood piece of Henry still wanted to please his father. But the adult piece of Henry understood that for his father, the law was his life. Nothing Henry would ever do would compare to it.

            “Son,” Dogwood nodded towards him as he stepped outside the hotel doors. Henry nodded back curtly as he, Sam, and Dogwood saddled up onto their horses. The sky was a hazy black with bluish streaks as the dawn was approaching. Dogwood meandered quickly through the empty streets until he arrived at the back of the pottery shop. However, Dogwood glanced around the street and moved his horse backward to hide him in the adjacent alley. He quickly came down from his horse and stepped forward towards the door. Henry and Sam followed him while Sam pulled at the door handle. The door was locked. Henry rolled his eyes at Sam as his father’s eyes skirted the boards and the alleyway. Dogwood bent over to the wooden flats of the porch and rubbed the gray dust between his fingers. Wagon wheels clacked against the dusty street and Dogwood suddenly motioned towards the alleyway to hide. Sam and Henry hustled behind him, concealing themselves in the alleyway as the wagon stopped at the back of the pottery shop. Martha’s voice welcomed the man who came down from the wagon box.

            “All there,” the man said jovially and began unloading the bags of clay.

            “I swear if that factory don’t open up, I’m gonna be outta business with this Denver clay,” Martha tutted, supervising the man who was moving the bags into the back storeroom. When the man was done, he climbed back onto the wagon and urged his horses forward. When he was fifty feet away and Martha was safely back inside, all three men climbed back onto their horses. Dogwood guided horse behind the wagon. As they neared the edge of Denver, Dogwood slowed his horse and shook his head.

            “He’s gettin’ away,” Sam said after they had traveled for nearly an hour across the city. Henry remained silent as he watched his father hurry his horse towards town.

            “Where are we goin’?” Sam called to Dogwood as he and Henry sped off into town. Sam’s nostrils flared and he glanced back at the wagon far up the road ahead. He was torn on whether he should follow the wagon or follow his Marshall. He cursed under his breath and dug his heels into his horse gently to move her forward. Sam was huffing and puffing as they rode until Dogwood stopped his horse in front of a fine building that held multiple businesses. He slung his reins on the iron hitching post out front.

            “We ain’t eatin’ first?” Sam asked, his stomach growling.

            “You eat,” Dogwood shrugged, moving forward into the building. Henry was already behind him with Sam again reluctantly coming down. He didn’t like missing meals and breakfast happened to be his favorite.

            Dogwood walked into the corridor and past doors until he found the one he was looking for, trying the knob. The office was deserted and everything was neat as a pin. Henry stepped inside as Sam came in quickly behind him, pulling the door shut.

            “Why are we in here?” Sam whispered. Dogwood squatted down and ran his hand along the floor, grey clay touching his fingers. He rubbed it gently and then fully laid on the rug that was underneath the desk. Sam was bewildered but Henry was patient, knowing his father better than anyone. Dogwood grinned as his hand touched a grooved handle under the rug. He stood up and threw the rug back to reveal a staircase.

            “Light,” he commanded back to Henry. Henry looked at Sam.

            “Light,” Henry commanded back to Sam. Sam fumbled and located the matches from his vest pocket, tossing them to Dogwood. Dogwood slung the wood across the box and a flame lit up. He pulled his revolver from its holster as his boots clacked against the rickety wooden steps down in the basement. Henry followed behind Dogwood, who gave them both a match to hold. They hurriedly moved through the room, looking for the connection between the pottery and Mr. Albright’s office.

            Suddenly, Henry gasped at the ledger he now held in his hands. Dogwood turned towards his voice and raised his eyebrows. Henry tossed the ledger to Dogwood, who thumbed through it quickly. Dogwood’s eyes skirted the list of saloon owner’s names paying them off for dirty dealings. Sam’s heart was hammering against his chest as he glanced up at the opening above in the hopes Mr. Albright did not come back. Dogwood shut the book and put it in his pocket. Then he glanced around and leaned forward to see strands of red hair in places on the floor. He sighed, wondering how he might locate Penny Yearling. She was a piece of the puzzle he had yet to thumb down.

            “Let’s go,” Dogwood said as he stood up.

            He moved quickly back up the steps until all three men were walking out of Mr. Albright’s office and into the sunshine of the Denver morning. Sam’s pulse still thumped in his neck and Henry’s against his ribs. Dogwood was puzzled as he thumbed through the dealings.

            “But why clay?” Dogwood muttered to himself.

            “Martha sells pottery to all the fur wives,” Sam once again said, surprising both Dogwood and Henry.

            “You just left that out, Buchanan,” Henry said aloud what Dogwood and he were thinking.

            “There are so many names on that list,” Dogwood said quietly, handing Sam the ledger to look over. Sam thumbed through multiple pages as the street noise rang between them all. Dogwood’s mind was whirring as he tried to string all the clues together, pondering Martha’s involvement.

            “The one that stands out most is Holly’s I reckon,” Sam shut the ledger and looked up to find Henry and Dogwood’s jaws practically hit the cobblestone pavement.