Shooting For Justice, G. Tilman [best historical fiction books of all time .txt] 📗

The train pulled into Pueblo and Pope, the engineer and the conductor gave a full report to the county sheriff. Sarah sent a telegram to Hume.

An hour later, the trained rolled out of the station and headed to Kansas City.

“I guess I have to carry a little bag of cartridges attached to my shoulder holster,” Pope said, once the train was underway and he was ready for a quick nap.

“Yes. I guess a third gun would be a bit much with a business suit on,” his partner observed.

“Out of curiosity, what did you tell the boss about our little shoot here?” Pope asked Sarah.

“Not much. I told him seven robbers hit the train. They were getting ready to shoot the express messenger. We intervened. In the ensuing firefight, you killed four and I killed three. No injury to any civilian or WF employee. No loss of treasure. I told him we figured we had gotten enough exposure and made a report to the sheriff and headed to our original assignment.”

“Good job, honey. Short and sweet. He won’t recall us to investigate. Nobody left to catch. Our assignment takes precedence over any company business. Thanks for bailing me out back there. I’d be dead meat if it weren’t for you and your alley cleaner.”

“If I hadn’t, I’d have to find another husband and partner real fast. I have invested a lot in shaping you the way I want you, so it saved me years of looking and changing some fellow.”

“Sarah, I am so happy you are able to look at it so logically. It certainly signifies true love,” he said.

“Come here, cowboy. I’ll show you some true love.”

“Well, if you insist,” he said, losing no time departing one bed for the other.

During the fourth day of their trip, their third train of the journey pulled into the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad Station at Sixth and B Streets. Ironically, it was the very location where Charles Guiteau shot President James Garfield less than two years earlier causing the succession of Vice President Chester A. Arthur to president.

Without any plans, the two detectives asked a hansom cab driver to take them to a hotel near the President’s House. He recommended the Willard. He said President Grant used to enjoy a frequent whiskey in the lobby. He went on to them about people US Grant referred to as “lobbyists” bothering him with their special interests when he was there for a bourbon and cigar.

Mr. & Mrs. John Pope checked in with no problem, though the room tariff was choking. They decided, since they did not know their cover story yet, they should shoot high.

Once checked into the hotel, the two detectives had to track down the location of the attorney general. Though his office had been created in the 1700’s and had become a government department thirteen years ago in 1870, the department was scattered all over the general Pennsylvania Avenue area of Washington.

Sarah subtlety inquired of the concierge at the Willard Hotel about the address of her distant cousin Ben Brewster, who had “some sort of lawyer job in the government”.

The concierge knew right away and wrote down the address of the post office at 700 F Street. They walked over and checked the Directory Board in the lobby. The attorney general’s office was listed and they walked up the steps.

Entering, they introduced themselves to a male receptionist as being from San Francisco and having a mutual friend with General Brewster. The man said although the attorney general was in a meeting, he should be through shortly. They were directed to a hard wooden bench to wait.

They waited almost forty-five minutes before a clean-shaven man in his late sixties came out and introduced himself as Benjamin Brewster.

“Hello, General Brewster. We are from San Francisco and work for your friend Lloyd Tevis. He said to be sure to look you up when we visited the Capitol.”

“Oh, yes. He mentioned you to me. You work with his friend Hume?” Brewster asked.

“We do.”

“Are you just arriving?” the attorney general asked.

“We arrived about an hour and a half ago and checked in to the Willard Hotel. We thought it would be convenient until we found a more appropriate accommodation,” Sarah said.

“A very good choice, for sure. Listen, I would like to chat with you at great length and have a friend who I am sure would like to join us. Are you doing anything for dinner?”

“We are at your disposal, sir,” Pope said.

“Why not get a private dining room for four at the hotel for dinner at seven. I will send a messenger over to the friend and see if he is available. Either way, I will join you.”

“We look forward to it, General Brewster. See you at seven o’clock then,” Pope said, and they shook hands and departed.

Once they were sure they were clear of unwelcome ears, Pope said quietly to Sarah, “This must be really big, when the attorney general of the United States and another unknown cabinet member drops everything to talk with us.”

“Yes, it’s kind of scary, actually,” she said.

They returned to the hotel and went straight back to the concierge. He secured a small dining room for them for the appointed time.

“Should we dress up?” Pope asked his partner.

“Let’s stay like we are and play it by ear. We need their input on who we will pretend to be to best discover the scheme behind disrupting or killing Arthur.”

“After sitting on a train for four days, let’s loosen up by reconnoitering the area. We can stroll like Grandpa did in San Francisco when he was watching out for the kidnappers,” he said, referring to a major case they had solved.

“Except you have me instead of your hound dog, Scout,” Sarah said.

“I love you both. But I love you more. He saved me when the Irish gang tried to gun me down in Marin County. I was wounded and he came flying through the air and knocked a