Chapter One
September 1903
Portland, Oregon
“Could you have picked a worse place to meet than this rancid dump?” Trace Travers asked as he slid onto a rickety chair at a dirty table in the dark corner of a saloon. The backstreet location near the docks made him question if the boss was trying to get one or both of them killed. At the very least, it seemed likely someone would do their best to pick their pockets.
His boss and longtime friend grinned at him, pretending to nurse a shot of rotgut. “It seemed like a good place to speak to you without drawing any notice or suspicion,” William Baldwin said, covertly glancing around. Assured no one paid them any mind, he started to place his forearms on the table, glanced at the sticky residue and questionable substances across the top of it, and settled his hands back on his lap.
“What’s going on?” Trace asked, wanting to get to the point and away from this dank hole that smelled of cheap liquor, rotten fish, and desperation.
“I’ve got a new job for you.”
Trace quirked an eyebrow and lifted the glass in front of him, swirling the contents around slowly with no intention of drinking it as he pinned Billy with a hard glare. “I’m not finished with the current one.”
“I know that, but you ought to be able to wrap things up in short order. You’ve had them eating out of your hand for weeks. Get what you’re there for and get out,” Billy said, returning Trace’s glare before they both broke into grins. “I promise the new job will be an adventure.”
“An adventure. That’s what you said when you had me join the Golden gang. They dang near shot me full of holes when I rode away with all the gold they stole off the train near Salem.”
Billy shrugged. “You gotta admit it was exciting.”
Trace swirled the liquid in his glass again. “I’m not admitting anything. Before we catch something contagious from this odious place, would you hurry up and tell me what you want me to know?”
“Patience has never been your strong point, Trace. You know that?”
Trace smirked. “I might have heard that once or twice before.”
“If I remember right, your sweet mother used to tell you that at least once a week,” Billy said with a chuckle before his countenance sobered and he leaned slightly forward. “I need you to go to Hardman, over on the eastern side of the state.”
“What in the world could there possibly be over there that I need to handle?” Trace gave his friend a questioning look. Maybe Billy had taken one too many bumps to the head and lost his mind. The last place Trace wanted to be was some backwater town in the middle of nowhere. In his line of work, with the kind of money he made, he liked being able to spend some of it on things most folks looked at as luxuries but he considered necessities. Like excellent food, comfortable accommodations, fine clothes, and gifts for the beautiful women who accompanied him to the theater or musical performances.
“A new gang popped up a few months ago. They’ve robbed the train at Heppner twice and the stage line that runs from there south through Hardman three times. Word is they’ve set up their headquarters somewhere in the area. I want you to work your way into their gang and do what you do best.”
Trace grinned and leaned back in his chair. “Relieve them of their ill-gotten goods.”
“Exactly.” Billy removed a thick envelope from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to Trace. “Everything you need to know about the gang members, from what I can gather, is in there. The one in charge is a man named Emmett Brunson. Don’t know what he looks like, but he and his boys have been good at not getting caught. My sources say they’ve stolen everything from gold bars to mine payroll. I want that gold and everything else they’ve stolen.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Trace stared at the dark liquid in the glass he held then made a show of pretending to take a drink when a scantily clad barmaid made her way to their table.
“Get you gents anything?” she asked with a broad smile that showed off the fact she was missing three teeth. Those remaining appeared to be in varying stages of decay. She might have been pretty in her youth, but the woman looked aged, hard, and weary.
“I think we’re fine, darlin’, but thanks for asking,” Billy said with an exaggerated drawl.
She nodded to them both, her eyes lingering on Trace before she moved on to the next table.
When she turned away, it was all Trace could do not to wrinkle his nose in disgust.
“Get that snarl off your face,” Billy warned, leaning forward again, although he was careful not to touch the table.
A blank expression settled over Trace’s features. “Better?” he asked in a sarcastic tone.
Billy sighed in frustration. “Remind me why I put up with you?”
“Because when we were nine, I was the one who took the blame for breaking Mrs. Deitman’s window with the baseball and when we were eleven, I took the whupping for that incident with Martha June’s braids in the inkwell, and then there was the time when we were…”
Billy held up his hand to stop him from continuing. “Fine. I owe you for the mishaps of our youth.”
“And all the times I’ve saved your worthless hide since then.” Trace rubbed a hand over his chest where he’d taken a bullet meant for Billy. Although it was four years ago, the spot still ached from time to time when the weather was damp and cold.
“Agreed.” Billy glanced around again, then dropped his voice so Trace had to strain to hear him. “When you get off the train at Heppner, go to the livery stable owned by a man named Metzger. There will be a wagon there with everything you need to make your cover work.”
“And just what will I be doing?”
Billy grinned. “Why, you’re going to be the new telephone man. Hardman is finally getting telephone service. The poles are set, but the wire needs to be strung and you’ll have to sell subscriptions then install the telephones. Gives you a good reason to be nosing around every single place in the area.”
“Are you crazy?” Trace shouted in a whisper. “You know how I am about heights.”
“You’ll be fine. Face your fears, and all that,” he said, grin broadening.
“I’ll face you with something,” Trace muttered, shooting angry glances at his so-called friend. “What if I finish the job with the telephone wire before I infiltrate the gang?”
“You’ll figure it out, Trace. I have complete faith in you. Be ready to leave a week from Monday.” Billy stood and settled his hat more snugly on his head. “If you have any problems, send a message through Andrews. I expect a report twice a month, sooner if you find anything on the gang.”
“I’ll send the messages to your little toady, but if you don’t hear from me, assume I fell off one of those blasted telephone poles and killed myself. My demise will be all your fault and your wife will likely never forgive you.” Trace walked beside Billy as they headed toward the door.
“Your sister would forgive me anything and you know it,” Billy said, offering him a studying glance as they stepped outside into the shadows of the alley. “When you finish the job in Hardman, come for a visit. The kids sure miss seeing you.”