Huey shook his head. “No one gave him the slightest notice. Three people gave different descriptions. None matched. All I know is, my posse found no tracks from wagon, horse, or automobile leading out of town.”
“What about the railroad?”
Huey shook his head. “No train left town for eight hours. I posted men at the depot who searched the passenger cars before it left, but they found no one that looked suspicious.”
“How about freight trains?”
“My deputies ran a search of the only freight train that left town that day. Neither they nor the train engineer, fireman, or brakemen saw anyone hiding on or around the boxcars.”
“What is your theory on the bandit?” asked Bell. “How do you think he made a clean getaway?”
Huey paused to shoot another wad of tobacco saliva into the brass cuspidor. “I gave up. It pains me to say so, but I have no idea how he managed to elude me and my deputies. Frankly, I’m put out by it. In thirty years as a lawman, I’ve never lost my man.”
“You can take consolation in knowing you’re not the only sheriff or marshal who lost him after he robbed their town banks.”
“It still isn’t anything I can be proud of,” muttered Huey.
“With your permission, I would like to question the three witnesses.”
“You’ll be wasting your time.”
“May I have their names?” Bell persisted. “I have to do my job.”
Huey shrugged and wrote out three names on the back of a wanted poster, and where they could be found, handing it to Bell. “I know all these people. They’re good, honest citizens who believe what they saw even if it don’t match up.”
“Thank you, Sheriff, but it is my job to investigate every lead, no matter how insignificant.”
“Let me know if I can be of further help,” said Huey, warming up.
“If need be,” said Bell, “I will.”
BELL SPENT most of the next morning locating and questioning the people on the list given him by Sheriff Huey. Bell was considered an expert at drawing on witnesses’ descriptions, but this time around he drew a blank. None of the people, two men and one woman, gave correlating accounts. Sheriff Huey was right. He accepted defeat and headed back to his hotel and prepared to leave for the next town on his schedule that had suffered a similar tragedy: Bozeman, Montana.
He was sitting in the hotel restaurant, eating an early dinner of lamb stew, when the sheriff walked in and sat down at his table.
“Can I order you anything?” Bell asked graciously.
“No thanks. I came looking for you because I thought of Jackie Ruggles.”
“And who might that be?”
“He’s a young boy of about ten. His father works in the mine and his mother takes in laundry. He said he saw a funny-looking man the day of the robbery, but I dismissed his description. He’s not the brightest kid in town. I figured he wanted to impress the other boys by claiming he’d seen the bandit.”
“I’d like to question him.”
“Go up Third Street to Menlo. Then turn right. He lives in the second house on the left, a ramshackle affair that looks like it may fall down any minute, like most of the houses in that area of town.”
“I’m obliged.”
“You won’t get any more out of Jackie than you did from the others, probably less.”
“I have to look on the bright side,” said Bell. “As I said, we have to check out every lead, no matter how trivial. The Van Dorn Detective Agency wants the killer as much as you.”
“You might stop by the general store and pick up some gumdrops,” Sheriff Huey said. “Jackie has a sweet tooth for gumdrops.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
BELL FOUND the Ruggles house just as Huey described. The entire wooden structure was leaning to one side. Another two inches, Bell thought, and it would crash into the street. He started up the rickety stairs just as a young boy dashed out of the front door and ran toward the street.
“Are you Jackie Ruggles?” Bell asked, grabbing the boy by the arm before he dashed off.
The boy wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “Who wants to know?” he demanded.
“My name is Bell. I’m with the Van Dorn Detective Agency. I’d like to ask you about what you saw the day of the bank robbery.”
“Van Dorn,” Jackie said in awe. “Gosh, you guys are famous. A detective from Van Dorn wants to talk to me?”
“That’s right,” said Bell, swooping in for the kill. “Would you like some gumdrops?” He held out a small sack that he had just purchased at the general store.
“Gee, thanks, mister.” Jackie Ruggles wasted no time in snatching the sack and savoring a green gumdrop. He was dressed in a cotton shirt, pants that were cut off above the knee, and worn-leather shoes that Bell guessed were handed down by an older brother. The clothes were quite clean, as befitting a mother who was a laundress. He was thin as a broomstick, with boyish facial features that were covered with freckles, and topped by a thicket of
