Pinkerton men always wore gray to blend in with crowds. Maybe he missed the train, his deputy suggested. But the only male who looked the least bit citified was Ike Bruhn, home from his honeymoon with his new bride. A Pinkerton agent would no doubt be wearing a proper suit. Then came more passengers he didn’t recognize, but none of them looked remotely like a Pinkerton man. Hinksley and her sister, Iris DuPont, both dressed in pink-checked gingham with parasols to match. Louis weren’t gonna help.Īfter them came rancher Thad MacAllister, followed by old Mrs. Jericho had heard them once at a church social, warbling a duet in Italian. Louis opera house, he guessed both women fancied themselves singers. The first person off the train was Darla Weatherby with her bossy mother-in-law right behind her. Jericho adjusted his sling so the sheriff’s badge showed, jammed his left thumb in his belt and waited. At four-oh-five, Jericho would strong-arm him right back onto the train.Īt precisely four o’clock, the Oregon Central chuffed into the station. At four o’clock this afternoon the big black steam engine would roll into the station and Madison O’Whatsisname would get off. Trusted him.īut Lake County had never faced anything like this before. Red-haired and shiny-faced, sharp as a whip and foolishly brave. Hooking his boot heel over the bar rail, he shoved both elbows onto the bar top and watched his still-wet-behind-the-ears deputy sidle up beside him. A puff of hot air through the swinging double door told him he was no longer alone. He grinned at the paunchy man on the other side of the counter and slowly pivoted to study the room behind him. The windowless saloon was smoky and dim, but it was over a hundred degrees outside and the Golden Partridge was the coolest place in town. Three weeks of chasing the Tucker gang, and now his arm was in a sling.

Ya keep this up, you’re gonna be pie-eyed. Jawing with some city slicker from Chicago’s gonna be easier with this inside me. No fancy-ass Pinkerton man from the city is gonna sit on his duff at the jailhouse giving me advice while staying out of the line of fire. Jericho tossed off the whiskey and slapped the glass onto the polished wood counter. The bartender swept out a meaty hand and rescued the glass. That’s all he needed, some citified armchair detective telling him how to do his job. Sonofa- Jericho shoved his shot glass of Red Eye around and around in a widening circle. SENDING TOP AGENT MADISON O’DONNELL TO ASSIST CAPTURE OF ARMED GANG STEALING WELLS FARGO GOLD SHIPMENTSĬHICAGO, ILLINOIS Chapter One Smoke River, Oregon, 1873

TO: SHERIFF JERICHO SILVER, LAKE COUNTY, OREGON

The Lone Sheriff by Lynna Banning