Chapter 63: The Smell of Conspiracy
After settling Mary at the hotel, Arthur faced her suspicious gaze. He could only tell her that he had some work to take care of and promised to return at noon to take her and Jamie out for lunch.
Once he bid Mary farewell, Arthur wasted no time. He headed straight to the saloon, where he found Kieran.
"Has there been anyone suspicious around here lately? Think carefully before you answer."
Caught off guard by Arthur's sudden appearance and serious tone, Kieran handed his bottle of whiskey to a passing server and took a moment to think.
"Now that you mention it… there were two strange fellas. I remember because I was the one who dealt with them. They weren't here to gamble or drink. They said something about… wanting to ask me some questions."
Kieran paused, noticing the stern look on Arthur's face. He quickly continued.
"I'm not making excuses, but I was really busy at the time. They weren't customers, and they were asking about some kind of information. You know I don't like trouble, so I didn't bother with them."
"What? You didn't even hear them out? If they seemed suspicious, couldn't you have spared a minute to find out what they wanted?" Arthur complained, though he wasn't sure if he should really blame Kieran.
After all, it wasn't entirely Kieran's fault. Still, after a moment's hesitation, Arthur decided to give Kieran a stern talking-to, emphasizing that next time, he should at least find out what people are after.
To his credit, Arthur resisted the urge to smack Kieran on the head. Though he wanted to, he reminded himself that Kieran was now a capable man who could handle things on his own. In front of so many people, Arthur decided to save him some face. Whether Kieran would appreciate that or not was another matter.
Once Arthur finished his lecture, he returned to the main issue.
"So, if those two didn't get what they wanted from you, did they just leave?"
Kieran looked sheepish. "Now that I think about it… I'm not sure, but I think the younger one said something about going to the gunsmith's shop to ask around. That's all I remember. I was swamped, Arthur. You really need to get me some help here. One person isn't enough. Think about it?"
"Not a chance. I'll think about it later. I've got to go," Arthur said, turning on his heel and leaving the saloon without another word.
Following the lead Kieran had given him, Arthur crossed the street and entered Ralph's shop. As soon as Arthur pushed open the door, he was greeted by the cheerful voice of Old Ralph.
"Ah, a new customer! Welcome!" Old Ralph had a head of neatly combed white hair and wore a pair of glasses, giving him a sharp, shrewd appearance.
Arthur was sure he wouldn't be as forgetful as Kieran. He walked straight to the counter.
"Sir, I'm looking for two men. They might have come here—"
"Huh? Are you joking? In a town like Valentine, where people from all over pass through, who knows how many folks come in here to buy bullets or guns? Some of them might be outlaws or bounty hunters. Maybe the two you're talking about were among them. But damn it, how am I supposed to remember?" Ralph interrupted; his tone impatient.
Arthur suddenly realized that the man wasn't as polite as he looked.
"You don't seem like the forgetful type," Arthur said skeptically. He couldn't tell if Ralph's memory was bad, but it was clear the man didn't want to help. Why else would he go on such a rant instead of just saying, "I don't know"?
Seeing that Arthur wasn't going to be easily dismissed, Ralph put on an act.
"Ah, now that you mention it, last week I sold an old musket to a bounty hunter. He seemed to be looking for someone. Could it be… you?"
Arthur sighed. "The sheriff's office is right across the street. If I were wanted, do you think I'd be here? I'm not stupid."
Ralph was slightly impressed. The man in front of him didn't match his gruff appearance. He had a surprisingly good temper, especially for someone in Valentine, where everyone seemed to have a sharp tongue. Every day, someone in this town ended up dead over a few harsh words.
Fine, Ralph thought. This guy seemed decent enough. He decided to stop messing around.
"Alright, alright. I think I remember the two you're talking about—an older man and a younger one, right?"
Arthur nodded eagerly.
"Yeah, that's them. They came in asking about someone named Dutch van der Linde. Of course, I told them I'd heard the name before. They got all excited and asked where I'd heard it. So, I told them… from the newspapers."
Arthur couldn't help but laugh inwardly. This old man wasn't just messing with him—he was messing with everyone.
"And then?" Arthur asked, trying to keep a straight face.
"Then? Well, I didn't like the way they talked, and I didn't like the look of them either. So, I told them to go ask at the sheriff's office," Ralph said with a dismissive wave, as if the memory still annoyed him.
"Thanks, sir. Oh, and I'll take a Lancaster Repeater while I'm here."
For some reason, Arthur found himself liking the old man. Plus, he needed a gift for Jamie, and a rifle seemed like a good choice. Why did he choose a gun? Because Arthur knew Old Gillis wouldn't be happy about it—and that thought amused him. Simple as that.
"Well, well, so you're not just here for information. You're a real customer! Good choice, this rifle. It only holds 14 rounds, not 16 like the Litchfield, but you should see how smoothly it operates. A real beauty."
Arthur took the rifle, inspected it briefly, and tested the bolt before handing it back to Ralph. He asked the gunsmith to wrap it up and deliver it to the Saints Hotel, where Blake would handle the payment.
"Sure thing. I know Blake well. What's your name, by the way?"
"Just tell him it's for Arthur."
"Arthur, huh? Funny, those two men were asking about someone named Arthur too. Arthur Morgan, to be exact. What a coincidence."
Arthur's brow furrowed for a moment before he forced a smile. "Yeah, what a coincidence. Arthur Callahan."
"Call me Ralph. Alright, you've got things to do. Go on, I'll have this sent over soon."
After thanking Ralph, Arthur hurried to the sheriff's office. Inside, only Sheriff Malloy was present. Arthur hadn't seen the deputy around lately, which struck him as odd.
After entering, Arthur locked the door behind him.
"I was just about to look for you," Malloy said, seemingly unsurprised by Arthur's arrival.
Arthur didn't beat around the bush.
"Those two men?"
"Pinkerton detectives."
***
Howdy, folks!
Loved this chapter? Want to know what happens next right now? Skip the wait and dive into the next chapter. Join me on Patreon to read 20 chapters ahead and keep this Wild West tale rolling. Your support means the world—thanks for riding with me!
https://www.patreon.com/Wild_Bunch
P.S. If you're enjoying the story, don't forget to drop some power stones! They help this tale reach more readers and keep the adventure alive. Thanks, partner!