Bronson turned to Curtis. “And your search for the boxcar?”
Curtis looked as if he had just lost the family dog. “It disappeared,” he replied helplessly. “A search of the railyard turned up no sign of it.”
“Maybe it was sent out on a freight train that left the city,” Bell offered.
“Southern Pacific freight trains that left on scheduled runs in the last week show no manifest that includes a freight car owned by the O’Brian Furniture Company.”
“You’re saying it never left the railyard?”
“Exactly.”
“Then why can’t it be found?” inquired Bronson. “It couldn’t have vanished into thin air.”
Curtis threw up his hands. “What can I say? Two of your agents and I searched the railyard from top to bottom. The car is not there.”
“Did the Southern Pacific’s dispatchers know where the car was switched after it arrived?” asked Bell.
“It was switched to a siding next to the loading dock of a deserted warehouse. We checked it out. It wasn’t there.”
Irvine lit a cigar and puffed out a cloud of smoke. “Could it have been coupled to a train without the dispatcher knowing about it?”
“Can’t happen,” Curtis came back. “They would know if a car was covertly added to their train. The brakemen use a form to list the serial numbers on a train in the sequence the cars are coupled together. When the boxcars arrive at their designated destination, they can easily be switched from the rear of the train before it continues on its run.”
“Perhaps the bandit figured the car had outlived its usefulness and he had it scrapped and destroyed,” said Bronson.
“I don’t think so,” Bell said thoughtfully. “My guess is that he simply had it repainted with a new serial number and changed the name to another fictitious company.”
“Won’t make any difference,” said Curtis. “He couldn’t use it anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Bell asked.
“Only the Rio Grande Southern Railroad runs into Telluride.”
“So what’s stopping him from repainting that railroad’s insignia over one advertising the Southern Pacific?”
“Nothing. Except it would be a waste of time. The Rio Grande Southern runs on a narrow-gauge track. The Southern Pacific trains run on standard gauge, nearly a foot wider. There’s no way the track can accommodate the bandit’s boxcar.”
“How stupid of me,” muttered Bell. “I forgot that only narrow-gauge railroads run through the Rocky Mountains.”
“Don’t feel bad,” said Bronson. “I never thought of it either.”
Irvine struck the table with his fist in frustration. “He’ll never bite the hook, knowing that he can’t escape in his private freight car.”
Bell smiled tightly. “He has his strengths, but he also has his weaknesses. I’m counting on his greed and his ego, his sense of invincibility. I’m certain he will take the bait and attempt to rob the bank in Telluride. The challenge is too mighty for him to ignore.”
“I wish you the best of luck,” said Bronson. “If anybody can catch the Butcher, you can.”
“What about you, Horace? Any luck on tracing the bandit’s gun?”
“Nothing encouraging,” Bronson said soberly. “New firearm purchases don’t have to be registered. All any buyer has to do is lay down the money and walk out with the gun. We’ve drawn a blank with dealers. Even if they remember who they sold a Colt thirty-eight automatic to, they won’t give out any names.”
Irvine stared at a wall without seeing it. “It would seem, gentlemen, that all our hard-earned leads have turned into blind alleys.”
“Setbacks, yes,” Bell muttered softly. “But the game isn’t over—not yet. We still have a chance to make the final score.”
22
CROMWELL SAT AT THE TABLE, EATING HIS BREAKFAST and reading the morning paper. He folded the first section on a front-page article and passed it across the table to Margaret without comment.
She read it, her eyes squinting as the story hit home, then she looked up quizzically. “Do you intend on going for it?”
“I find it very tempting,” he replied. “It’s as though a gauntlet was thrown at my feet.”
“What do you know about Telluride?”
“Only what I’ve read. It lies in a box canyon. Has an extensive red-light district, and Butch Cassidy robbed the San Miguel Valley Bank there in 1889.”
“Was he successful?”
