Chapter 34

The blast had broken the boat in two, directly under the boiler. The front half had sunk at the centerline fracture, while the stern rested on the paddle wheel. But the river’s depth there was only nine feet. The bow and stern retained enough buoyancy to stay partially afloat. Above the water line, the wheelhouse, most of the cabin, sections of the rear deck, and all of the canvas canopy had been fully destroyed by the flames.

After a search for bodies, there was no attempt to salvage or examine the wreck. The type of accident was all too common. The unorthodox licensing of Senator Ranford as the boat’s master was accepted by the coroner’s inquest as explanation enough. The Malik’s sworn affidavits simply iced the cake.

They never found George Miller’s body nor Macready’s head. Banks’ body was located amid the wreckage of the stern wheel, which had broken free of the mountings. Ranford’s corpse had remained snagged in the rope, the coils around his leg sufficient to keep the body from floating away.

Senator DeBray stepped in to assure that Malik and Gabriela were treated with respect and deference. In the final consideration, other than several now-disenfranchised family members, there were few who mourned the demise of Paulus Ranford.

The honeymoon couple tarried in Washington City until Saturday, to be able to attend Senator Ranford’s funeral. Newspaper reporters pursued the Maliks, but the city police and hotel staff kept the newshounds at bay.

Malik let it be known around the Willard that they would be headed back west on Monday. However, on Sunday, they quietly packed up and left through a back entrance, riding in an enclosed green grocer’s wagon, as had been arranged by the bell captain, who was generously tipped. The green grocer dropped them at the trades’ entrance to the railway station, and they caught a southbound train rather than a westbound, as they had made known.

Gabriela and Malik were speechless when Cowboy boarded the train at Alexandria. Though they expected to see him board there, his appearance left them agape. Cowboy’s hair was cut short and he was in a black business suit, a pale gray shirt with a white collar, a burgundy four-in-hand tie, and crowned by a pearl gray bowler with a black band. He carried a small but colorful carpet bag in one hand and a furled black umbrella in the other.

Finally, Malik asked, quietly, “Is there any of the thirty thousand left?”

Cowboy, who had burgled Ranford’s house during the funeral, looked down at Malik, and patted the carpet bag, saying, “Nearly fifty dollars.”

As the train rolled toward Florida’s Gulf coast, Cowboy told his long story.

“I was hiding out in your office, mostly on the upper floor, but I’d gone down to find something from your bookshelf to read. I was being careful because I’d already been fooled by one book I thought might help me understand Hannah’s and Matilda’s business, until I realized that torts had absolutely nothing to do with pastries.

“While I was looking, someone walked by outside your window and I heard a man say that if they didn’t hurry they’d miss the train and he didn’t want to upset Senator Ranford’s plans. I thought I recognized the voice and when I looked out, sure enough, there were George Miller and the sheriff, carrying traveling bags.

“They barely made it, and so did I. With only six dollars in my pocket and the train pulling out of the station, I had no choice but to leave as I was. I hid out in a cattle car all the way down to Junction City. As it turned out, that was the best part of my trip.

I managed to follow them close enough to hear them buy tickets to Memphis, and I knew I’d better do everything I could to stick on their trail.

“It wasn’t easy. Mostly, I talked firemen into letting me throw coal for them. Paid one bastard fifty cents for the privilege. Fortunately, another one shared his lunch with me. Otherwise, it was whatever I could buy cheap from vendors at stations or find in trash cans. But I also had to make sure I wasn’t spotted by Miller or Banks. After a couple days, I was so dirty with coal dust, they’d never have recognized me if I sat down to dinner with them. Generally, I worked back in the tender, throwing the coal forward and the fireman would stoke the boiler, which is a bit of an art, I found out. When I could grab some sleep, it was usually amid the coal. By the time we reached Alexandria, I was black with coal dust and soot.

“We arrived Tuesday evening, the night before your river cruise, and I followed them to a cheap boarding house not far from that dock. I hid out in the hayloft of the stable behind the boarding house. With the many colored folks around, I decided to maintain my dark skin as a disguise, and I added a little grease to help the coal dust stick and to even it out. Later, I discovered that becoming a ‘redskin’ again would take plenty of soap and hot water.

“When they went out that night, I trailed them, again. I didn’t get into place in time to see Miller get thrown in, but I did see you go down, Shadow, and figured the big splash a few minutes later was you going into the water, so I swam over. If you hadn’t yelled out like you did, I never would have found you.”

They returned by way of Pensacola, New Orleans, and Saint Louis, spending two or three days at each. Gabriela and Cowboy both especially enjoyed the beaches at Pensacola, Cowboy especially as it was his first encounter with a saltwater sea. All three enjoyed the food at their stopovers. Cowboy bought a new broad-brimmed hat, a Boss of the Plains style, in Saint Louis, and found gifts for Matilda, Hannah and his family.

One problem Malik brought to their conversations was how to get Ranford’s and Banks’ loot back into some benefit for the county without giving it to the county, itself. He figured that giving it to the county would only make it disappear again. They discussed various schemes and projects, but couldn’t come up with a method that either didn’t seem odd or suspicious or that would allow the county money it replaced to then be purloined.

Finally, Gabriela suggested that Malik endow Waypoint’s poorly-funded quasi-public school with a trust fund that would allow all children to attend without having to pay fees. An educated populace would benefit the community as a whole, especially as Waypoint grew. Cowboy suggested some boarding facility be added for children from outlying farms and ranches.

Malik allowed as to how that idea was perfect, in his estimation.

The trio arrived at Waypoint on Thursday, November twelfth, the train only six minutes behind its 11:10 AM scheduled arrival. The family turned out at the Waypoint depot. Andy, Christina, and Jacob were all smiles. Matilda and Hannah, likewise grinning happily, were with them.

Making no bones about their relationship, Matilda ran up to Cowboy and threw her arms around him. Cowboy lifted her and whirled her around, then settled into a serious kiss. Everyone else applauded.

A clean-shaven young man in neat work-a-day clothes—and wearing a deputy sheriff’s badge—stepped out of the depot and approached Malik.

“Are you Emil Malik?” the young deputy asked.

A hush came over the group. At the sudden change in their demeanor, the young man glanced behind him at the stern expressions directed his way. His boyish face took on a look of uncertainty.

Turning toward the deputy, Malik said, “Yes, I’m Emil Malik.”

The deputy looked back at Malik. “Mister Malik, I, uh, have a warrant for your arrest in the, uh, disappearance and suspected murder of George Miller.”

“You do? May I ask who issued this warrant?”