Chapter 28

On the afternoon of the third Saturday in October, they had just come in from having a tour of Independence Hall in Philadelphia. They were a bit weary, but more from the shopping that had followed the tour. Malik had taken note of a particular suit on display at a men’s haberdashery and had ordered one in charcoal gray and another in navy blue. While he was being fitted, Gabriela had visited a neighboring bookseller, selecting two books for herself and one she thought might interest Malik. On the way back to the hotel, they stopped in a glove maker’s shop where they found soft, comfortable, but remarkably sturdy riding gloves in natural and dyed black leather. They purchased a half dozen pair for each of them.

Gabriela was in the hotel suite’s bedroom, changing into a dressing gown she would wear to the bathing room at the end of the hall. Malik was stretched out on the bed, shoes off, reading the first pages of the book Gabriela had purchased for him. It was an illustrated volume—somewhat controversial, the bookseller had confided—the recently published Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, by the humorist author and lecturer, Mark Twain. Malik’s attention was drawn away from the pages, however, by Gabriela’s disrobing process.

There came a knock on the door of the outer parlor. Malik groaned, then went to answer it.

A young man in bell hop livery stood with an envelope on a silver tray. He held it toward Malik and said, “Sir, this just arrived.” Malik recognized it as a telegraph company envelope. He picked it up, reached into his pocket and dropped a dime on the tray. “Thank you, Robbie.”

“My pleasure, Mister Malik.” Smiling, the boy turned and left.

He had not received Cowboy’s routine reply by noon, as was their practice, but was not particularly concerned. Even so, its arrival was a small relief.

Hearing the door close, Gabriela called, “What was it, sweetheart?”

“Cowboy’s wire.” He tore the envelope carefully along the edge, blew into the open slit, and reached in with finger and thumb to retrieve the message.

“Anything special?”

“Just about to read it.”

A moment later he was standing in the bedroom doorway, holding the form out to Gabriela. She was startled by the grim look in his eyes and the set of his jaw. She took the paper to the window for better light.

Olin Wisser killed last night in shop explosion. Sheriff rules accident. Burial Monday. All at ranch urge you continue trip. Grieve later. More men guarding Baylor. When do cigars arrive? Would take some on upcoming hunting trip.

CTsosie

“Oh, no!” she gasped, then looked at Malik. “Do you think...?”

“Of course. I’ve never seen anyone more careful than Olin Wisser. He still had all his fingers, for heaven’s sake, a rarity among those who work with explosives, especially for as many years as he’s been at it. No. The bastards were just removing one more ally. And maybe sending a message, too.”

They were both silent for a few moments.

“Cowboy mentioned cigars.”

Malik nodded grimly. “And a hunting trip. He knows who did it and is going after him.”

“Should we pack and—”

“No.” he shook his head. “We don’t want to break our routine, nor can we miss our opportunity.” With a heavy sigh, he said, “We’ll leave Wednesday, as planned. Besides, it would seem odd for me to abandon my suits. I need to go for a fitting on Monday afternoon.”

She walked over and embraced him. “I’m sorry about your friend.”

He said, in a quiet voice, his head resting against hers as they clung to one another. “Olin’s friendship was another fine thing I inherited from my father. Pa taught Andy an’ me how to shoot, but Olin Wisser taught us to appreciate firearms. Before he got hold of us, we took rifles and pistols for granted, not as regards safety or the intent of using one, but as tools. Olin showed us that firearms are precision machines, at least the better ones are. They’re resistant to powerful forces and capable of exacting performance under a range of conditions, even with innumerable firings over many years.

“More than that, he helped me to understand that it is quality parts that make the whole work. He was a bit crotchety, but he was a wise man.”

“I’m sorry, Emil. I know he was important to you.”

He pulled away. Grasping her arms, he looked intently at her. “We need to put an end to this.”