Grizzly

            Dogwood and Sam stood on the sidewalk of Seventeenth Street as Penny’s horse faded into the crowd. Sam stood with his hands on his hips and spat onto the cobblestone. He had finally led them to a true lead and now it was getting away. The morning sunshine beat on them overhead and as Dogwood’s green eyes skirted the houses stacked one by one all identical to Penny’s, a man stepped forward.

            “You lookin’ for Mrs. Yearling?” He offered his hand, which Dogwood shook.

            “I think we just missed her,” Dogwood said evenly but with a tinge of aggravation.

            “You ain’t gotta look far.”

            “No?” Sam walked closer to Dogwood and the man who was clearly a neighbor. The man leaned against her fence as he spoke to them.

            “She loves a man of business.”

            “Business?” Sam asked.

            “Ah the furs they wrap themselves in… these ladies,” the neighbor winked and then pushed himself upright again off Penny’s fence. He walked back off towards his home. Dogwood nodded towards the street and Sam followed him, weaving through the bustling morning crowd.

            “Why would they wrap themselves in fur in April?” Sam said loudly behind Dogwood as they made their way to the hotel where the ladies had been eating breakfast only minutes before their chase with Penny.

            “Sam,” Dogwood turned on him in the street, “did you see that man had the same handkerchief Penny was wearing around her neck? The soft black velvet?”

            Sam gulped at Dogwood’s ability to spot things so quickly and easily. Sam shook his head in embarrassment.

            “We need to find Fisher Welch,” Dogwood continued towards his horse which was out front of the hotel.

            “Why?” Sam asked before he could stop himself. Dogwood climbed up onto his horse after he unhitched it from the post. Sam quickly mirrored him.

            “Because where small fish swim, there is always a much bigger fish.”

            Dogwood galloped into the streets of Denver and back towards the outskirts where he passed the Buffalo Saloon. He sat atop his horse in front of the Frontier Inn for a while until he told Sam to wait for him. The bell clanged as his boots traipsed across the fading red rug and up to the front desk where his son, Henry, stood licking his lips and writing numbers on paper. Dogwood waited until his boots were loud against the floor in the quiet and dingy lobby. Henry then looked up. He narrowed his eyes at his father.

            “I told you not to come here.”

            “I need your help,” Dogwood said firmly.

            “You ain’t gettin’ my help.”

            “Then I guess I will have to take you and Holly in for questionin’.”

            Henry came out from behind the desk and got into Dogwood’s face.

            “You ain’t got no bargainin’ chip, old man.”

            “Vincent Albright’s son was found dead at your wife’s saloon,” Dogwood’s mouth was tight and Henry’s eyes grew wide. He didn’t read the paper much but Holly had kept the fact it happened at the saloon she worked.

            “It ain’t her saloon,” Henry stepped back, recovering and going behind the desk again.

            “You’re right. It ain’t.”

            “I ain’t wearin’ a badge,” Henry finally said as his repressed anger at his wife’s lie washed over him.

            “I ain’t askin’ you to wear a badge. I think it’s better that you don’t.”

            “How you reckon?” Henry was perplexed and stood up straighter, reorganizing his papers with his accounting on them of the inn.

            “Reckon you can lead me to Fisher Welch.”

            “I do know where baby fishes swim,” Henry finally smiled and Dogwood mirrored it.

            Sam glanced over at Dogwood and Henry atop their horses that night as they meandered slowly through the streets of Denver. He had glanced at them all day during lunch, during sitting in silence at the lobby Henry had told them to never pass through again, and then again as they got ready to go out that Tuesday night. Henry was a spitting image of Dogwood except with soft gray eyes. As they had gotten ready, they both had the same mannerisms, fixing their collars, their jacket, and their boots in the same motions and strokes.

            “Stop,” Dogwood met Sam’s eyes as he was tired of the staring.

            “You ain’t exactly been forthcomin’,” Sam muttered, glancing over at Henry once more and then back at the street ahead of them.

            “You know my son.”

            “I reckon I know very little,” Sam said in Henry’s direction, “And what I do know…”

            “Keep those judgin’ eyes in your head, deputy,” Henry said as their horses drew nearer. The street grew more crowded with people as it narrowed.

            “I ain’t judgin’… just tryin’ to… understand.”

            “Here it is,” Henry stopped at a saloon nearby to the hotel where the ladies had been earlier that day. He slung his reins over the hitching post and Henry dismounted. Dogwood and Sam dismounted across the street, close enough to hear but far enough to keep out of sight. They stood outside as Henry pulled out a cigarette to smoke. Before he could light it and take a puff, Fisher Welch strode up on horseback. He dismounted and hung his reins up on the hitching post out front.

            “Henry,” Fisher nodded, shaking his hand and standing outside. Dogwood and Sam turned their backs as to not be noticed across the street.

            “You seen Penny?” Henry asked nonchalantly, offering Fisher a cigarette as he lit his own. He puffed on it while Fisher shook his head no to the cigarette.

            “Word is she left town,” Fisher shrugged, staring out once more into the street.

            “Where did she go?”

            “Why you so interested?” Fisher turned fully towards him but Henry didn’t look at him, puffing his cigarette and then stamping it out.

            “Let’s go inside.”

            Fisher followed Henry without another question and the noisy saloon greeted him. The piano was lively and a painted lady was crooning a tune that was making the men dance. Henry didn’t smile, the saloon and his wife’s liaisons floating into the air as he spotted a man he had caught her with last year. The man was ambivalent, not even noticing Henry walking through. That is one thing Dogwood was right about, Henry would be able to blend in perfectly.

            “Henry,” Fisher nodded towards the upstairs and Henry reluctantly followed. Fisher walked up the narrow staircase and into a dark hallway where a man stood in front of a door. The wallpaper was a sage green and was much finer than other saloons Henry had seen the last few years.

            “Are you of the first water?” The beefy man guarding the door asked Fisher. Fisher nor Henry were first class so Henry anticipated being turned away.

            “I’m just a one-horse man,” Fisher responded casually, and then the doorman stepped aside for Fisher to enter the room. Henry disguised his surprise and followed Fisher into a smoke filled back room. There were a handful of painted ladies dancing and tending to a handful of men.

            “Fisher, my boy,” Mr. Albright said as he had a painted lady on his lap.

            “Vincent,” Fisher smiled jovially as a painted lady came up and handed both he and Henry a whiskey. Henry took it, taking a long sip.

            “And you look familiar but I can’t place ya?” Mr. Albright said towards Henry.

            “He’s Holly’s man.”

            Bile filled Henry’s throat as he realized with their lack of a marriage certificate, he was known as his wife’s man. Nothing more.

            “She runs a great saloon,” Mr. Albright smiled sarcastically and weighed Henry up and down as though he stood on a scale. Henry didn’t return his smile but instead sat down across from him to play cards with the men at the table.

            “You met Grizzly?” Mr. Albright nudged towards a blond haired man in a fine suit. He was greasy and his hair was slicked back as though he was a fop, a man less important than he believed.

            “Grizzly,” Henry nodded towards the man and the man grinned broadly.

            “You wrapped in fur?” Grizzly asked as Fisher laughed with the painted ladies in the corner. He was ignoring Henry completely.

            “I am wrapped in fur as well as the next man.”

            “Holly’s man is wrapped in fur?” Mr. Albright turned back towards him and raised his eyebrows.

            “A man never wears all his furs at once.”

            At that, Mr. Albright and Grizzly laughed heartily, taking another long swig of their whiskey.

            “Holly’s man with furs…” Mr. Albright muttered and spoke in a whisper to Grizzly. Before they could speak again to Henry, a man was thrown onto his face into the middle of the room from the beefy man outside.

            “Found him for ya, Grizzly,” the beefy man said as the man in the middle of the room stood on his feet. Everything was quiet as Grizzly stood up and two goonies held the man against his will.

            “You thought you’d underpay me.”

            The man who was being held against his will narrowed his eyes and his nostrils flared.

            “Kill me then, you ugly bear,” the man spat in his face. Grizzly suddenly punched him in the ribs and the man cried out in pain. Henry observed impassively but his heart was hammering against his ribs as Grizzly got into the man’s face. The man’s mouth was bloody and it dribbled slightly down his chin. Grizzly raised his face towards him.

            “Where are they?” Grizzly suddenly screamed into his face and the man cowered but still didn’t speak. Then Grizzly spoke in a deadly voice.

            “Take him out back.”