Weights & Measures

            Nothing can prepare a man for when his life is torn apart. For Henry, that moment was the words that spilled from Sam’s mouth as they stood on the street outside Mr. Albright’s office. Henry snatched the ledger from Sam’s grip and ran his index finger down the list of saloon names. There Holly’s name stood in Mr. Albright’s perfect script. He snapped it shut and without waiting for Dogwood’s response, he tucked the ledger into his vest and wrung his boot into his horse’s stirrup.

            Dogwood approached his son and drug him from his horse before he could mount it, alarming Sam in the process. He pulled the ledger from his son’s pocket and shoved it into his own.

            “I need proof,” Henry said low and with slightly gritted teeth as his father held him against his own horse. He tried to shove himself free but could not do so. Sam glanced from Dogwood to Henry in panic. He didn’t want to intervene but was anticipating he may have to do just that.

            “This is bigger than your…” Dogwood swallowed hard and flared his nostrils as he released his son.

            “I know she ain’t my wife!” Henry yelled as men on the street gawked at him before they went into the business building for work. Dogwood’s nostrils again flared and he climbed onto his horse to leave Henry to contemplate his life choices.

            “You just gonna leave?” Henry spat at his father as Dogwood settled himself back atop his horse. Its black hairs gleamed in the streaming spring sunlight. Sam mirrored him, untying his horse from the hitching post.

            “Get on your horse, son. There ain’t no time to lose.”

            “I need to go confront my…” Henry trailed off just as Dogwood had done, knowing Holly didn’t consider herself his wife. He almost thanked God right there and then as the sickening feeling wound its way into his stomach that she never married him.

            “We need her and you will not ruin the trail.”

            “It’s always about the trail,” Henry climbed onto his horse in disgust of his father. He wanted to speed away from Denver and crawl into whichever tiny town would take him.

            “Trails lead us to things that only God has for us. And mark my words, boy,” Dogwood was stern as his horse came up to face Henry on horseback, “this is about to lead you to some kinda mighty blessin’.”

            “Blessin’?”

            “You’ll see,” Dogwood backed his horse up and then turned to the street. Sam followed him silently, grateful that Henry nor Dogwood got into a physical fight.

            As they made their way through the Denver streets, they found themselves standing once more in front of Dogwood’s hotel.

            “Why are we here?” Henry asked as he wanted to go back to his inn and confront Holly about her involvement.

            “You’ll see,” his father repeated. Sam was on Dogwood’s heels and nearly bumped into him as Dogwood halted in the restaurant. There was the spitting image of Mr. Albright, just years younger. Henry halted when he saw Mr. Albright’s younger son sitting at the table looking worse for wear.

            “Are you insane?” Henry came up behind Dogwood and said closely to him without Mr. Albright’s son able to hear. The man at the table was handsome, all of his features out of place in the plain hotel restaurant. He stood and nodded at Dogwood, who came up to sit in front of him without shaking his hand. Sam and Henry stood behind him.

            “Did your father send you?” Henry blurted out with aggravation, glancing back at his horse which he desperately wanted to escape on.

            “Did you want to go find your woman?” Dogwood asked him firmly without glancing back at his son. Henry’s face grew tight and he closed his mouth.

            “I didn’t want to come. My father would… not like that I’m here,” the man said, also glancing around to see if he’d been followed. Though he was handsome, his eyes were wary as though he had either been crying or had been up all night. It was most likely a combination of both after the death of his oldest brother.

            “Go on,” Dogwood encouraged, “What’s your name boy?”

            “Vick,” the man said and took a deep breath before continuing, “do you know who killed my brother?”

            “Where were you the night your brother was killed?” Dogwood ignored his question and moved to his own. Vick swallowed and lowered his voice, leaning forward at the small table.

            “I was upstairs…” Vick glanced over Henry and then lowered his voice further, barely above a whisper, “With Holly.”

            “I see… And what did you see?”

            “Nothin’,” Vick shook his head and his eyes hardened, “My father knew that James found his ledger though. I can get you it. So many… dealings.”

            Vick was eager to help but it was coupled with disgust at his father’s business practices. Dogwood quickly pulled the ledger and set it on the table. Vick’s eyes grew wide.

            “You are the famous Flint Dogwood…” Vick said in awe more to himself than to Dogwood.

            “What can you tell us about Penny Yearling?”

            “She’s off Seventeenth street.”

            “She’s not there anymore…” Sam muttered. Vick glanced behind Dogwood to Sam.

            “She and my brother were engaged you know?” Vick offered and all three men nodded. Vick wanted to give them something to help, to find vengeance for his youngest brother. His death weighed so heavily on him that Dogwood was the first person he had seen since his murder. He had been drinking, crying, and staying inside his house like a hermit crab for days. He smelled himself momentarily and then snapped his fingers.

            “They had a spot.”

            “Where?” Dogwood asked, thinking it would be the factory where he found all her items.

            “Off twentieth. Not too far actually,” Vick rose in the hopes of leading the famous Dogwood there. Dogwood pulled a slip of paper and Sam handed Vick a pen. Vick was slightly crestfallen but scribbled the address. Vick stood to leave but Dogwood stood with him.

            “Meet us at the Buffalo Saloon tonight. Nine sharp.”

            Vick stood there in awe and nodded his head slowly then took his dismissal and left the restaurant. Dogwood waited until he had gone and turned to Henry.

            “Go home like nothin’ happened.”

            Instead of the usual argument, Henry simply nodded. He didn’t want to swallow his pride but he did so despite the incriminating evidence he found. He rode off to the inn with dust in his wake.

            Denver bustled busily in the midday sunshine as Sam and Dogwood’s horse’s hoofs stomped against the dust and grime of the city street. The address was tucked into Dogwood’s pocket and eventually came into view. It was a gorgeous brick home with a wooden roof sandwiched in a long row of other identical brick homes. Each had black iron horses for the hitching posts out front. Dogwood and Sam hitched their horses and walked up to the door. Dogwood raised his hand to knock but heard a faint shuffling inside. He lowered his hand before knocking and walked around to the back. A red haired woman with pale green eyes stood on the back porch. Dogwood and her gaze locked and his eyes surveyed her face. She was not Penny Yearling. In fact, her face was more doe-like even than Penny’s. She was fairer than most women Dogwood had ever encountered.

            “You lost?” The woman surveyed Dogwood just as quickly, her eyes lingering on his badge which was pinned tightly to his vest.

            “Aren’t all of us lost?” Dogwood smiled tightly at the woman.

            “You look like you about saw a ghost.”

            “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

            “Reckon you could’a fooled me,” the woman smiled tightly and then her boots clacked against the wooden porch to go back indoors. Dogwood however was quick and moved onto the porch with ease as the woman tried to shut the door on him. He pushed inside and surveyed the house. Sam moved quickly behind him, shutting the door.

            “Let’s not be strangers,” Dogwood moved towards the woman whose eyes darted around the kitchen. She walked backward still facing Dogwood into the living room. Before Dogwood could speak again, she pulled a revolver off the hutch to her right and fired a round. It barely missed Dogwood. His green eyes lit in shock at the woman’s bravado. She bolted as he and Sam ducked underneath another shot she fired from the pistol. One shot knicked Sam in the arm and he groaned in pain, leaning against the cabinet. The front door flung open along with the woman as Dogwood chased her out front. She looked to the right and left of the street with Dogwood at her heels until she slipped into a buggy only a few yards away. The driver anticipated her quick departure as he had seen her sprinting up the sidewalk. He moved the horse quickly away. Dogwood glanced back at the house where Sam walked out the door.

            “Go!” Sam urged, holding pressure against his arm and wincing. Dogwood nodded and climbed atop his horse to chase her down. Dogwood followed closely behind the buggy who picked up speed more and more as its wheels rolled against the cobblestone street. Dogwood’s adrenaline pulsed in his neck. Finally, it stopped and the driver opened the buggy door. However, it wasn’t the red haired woman who stepped out. It was a man in a business suit who looked alarmed at being followed.

            “You… need somethin’, Marshall?” The man offered politely, unsure why he had been chased down all of Seventeenth street. Dogwood’s face hardened, his growing irritation at being outwitted once more.

            “No sir,” Dogwood said politely and moved his horse back up the street in the opposite direction.

            His anger flooded from his hat all the way down to the soles of his boots. It licked the cobblestones as he sat atop his horse. He cursed under his breath and shook at his head at the turn of events. He wondered how two women with red hair had escaped his grasp. He also knew when there were two of a kind, one was a decoy and one was the real thing. Dogwood knew that the only way to tell was weights and measures.

            His horse approached the Buffalo Saloon a few minutes later and he slung his reins over the dilapidated hitching post. Holly was just inside sweeping up wood chips. The smell of whiskey, smoke, and musty air greeted him as he stepped into the saloon.

            “We ain’t open,” Holly said with her back turned to him. She kept sweeping and when the feeling of a man standing behind her didn’t leave, she leaned her broom against the nearby table and turned to face the man. She was shocked to see Dogwood standing there. Dogwood shut the door behind him and Holly gulped as he did so. He pulled the leather bound ledger from his vest pocket and read off her name and the dealings.

            “It ain’t what you’re thinkin’…” Holly’s bottom lip was trembling in fear. She wondered if every rumor she had heard and all Henry had ever told her about his father were about to come true right before her eyes. She just never thought she would be at the end of the interrogation.

            “I reckon it’s exactly what I’m thinkin’.”