“I’m talking about a couple of Texans,”said Telliger, “whom you may or may not have heard about. I’mfamiliar with their reputation. As a matter of fact, I’ve beenreading about them for many years, and not only in the newspapers.Reports of their exploits are on file at the Pinkertonheadquarters, and even with our secret service.” He grinned,somewhat sheepishly. “Although we’ve never met, I’m what you mightcall an admirer of these certain parties. I was—uh—hoping to meetthem—socially—because they happen to be currently resident in thisfair city.”
“Max Telliger,” breathed Lansing, “I askedyou a straight question.”
“Their names? Well ...” Telliger fidgeteduncomfortably, “their names are Valentine and Emerson. Moreaffectionately referred to as Larry and Stretch and, sometimes, byother and more flamboyant aliases. The Texas Hell-Raisers. The LoneStar Hellions—and so forth.”
“Great fire and thunder!” gasped Lansing.“The men you speak of are naught but fiddle-footedroughnecks—drifters—a couple of brawling troublemakers...”
“Jethro,” said Telliger, “they’reeverything you accuse them of being—but they have other talents ofwhich you’re obviously unaware. One of them—Valentine—is anatural-born detective. It’s common knowledge that both theRemington and Pinkerton agencies have tried to hirehim.”
“You did fall on your head!” accusedLansing. “Or perhaps you’re in shock, Major Telliger! Damn-it-all,what you suggest is madness!”
Two
The Available Texans
Catherine Telliger paused outside the closedbedroom door, balancing a tray containing coffee-pots, cups and aplatter of sandwiches. For a few moments, she debated with herselfas to whether she should intrude. She could hear only onevoice—Colonel Lansing’s.
“Preposterous ...!” she heard Lansingbellow. “The most outlandish—insane—unpardonable—a blatantcontradiction of all official procedure ...!”
There was a brief pause during which shecould barely hear her husband’s voice, after which the colonel tookover again.
“And if they fail? What then, MajorTelliger? You make me the laughing stock of the entireservice—jeopardize my career ...?”
“This,” Catherine decided, “may take longerthan I imagined.”
She returned to her kitchen to replace thecoffee-pot on the stove. In the bedroom, Lansing was pacing backand forth beside the bed. Sparks flew from his cigar. His moustachebristled and his eyes gleamed—but he forced himself to heedTelliger’s words.
“A revolution in Mexico, you say?”
“On the grand scale,” Telliger noddedvehemently. ”I don’t exaggerate when I say the government mighthave been overthrown, had the anti-revolutionaries not sent forValentine and Emerson.”
“Fantastic!” snorted the colonel.
“But easily verified,” said Telliger. “Allyou need do is wire Mexico City, check with the President’ssecretary. And somebody else you might care to contact—Horace D.Brill.”
“Brill?” Lansing eyed him challengingly. “Iknow Brill. Ex-Governor of Colorado.”
“Then you may recall,” said Telliger, “thathe was kidnapped during a tour of the state.”
“Vaguely,” frowned Lansing. “Only vaguely.That was quite some time ago. Are you going to tell me...?”
“I’m telling you Brill was rescued by themen you call shiftless brawlers,” declared Telliger. “And try thison for size, Jethro. They received a citation from the WarOffice.”
“Valentine and Emerson?” blinked Lansing.“Impossible!”
“Check with the War Office,” grinnedTelliger. “By coincidence, the citation was read in gratefulacknowledgement of their pulling the U.S. Army out of a tightfix.”
“The entire U.S. Army?” Lansingsarcastically challenged.
“Not quite,” chuckled Telliger. “Just theentire Ninth Cavalry.”
“You wouldn’t make such claims,” sighedLansing, “if they couldn’t be verified.”
“On your way out,” advised Telliger, “tellCathy to give you a brandy—and then do the sensible thing, Jethro.Go talk to them. Unless I’m greatly mistaken, you won’t have tobeg, and you may rely on their discretion.”
Lansing nodded slowly.
“All right, Max. I’m a drowning man—ready toclutch at a couple of Texas straws.” He opened the door. “Where doI find them?”
“When last I heard of them,” saidTelliger, “they were holding court at Fort Gale’s most expensivehotel, the Beaumont Regal. It seems they hit this fair city withfour thousand dollars burning holes in their pockets, and almost aquarter of that sum has been expended in—uh—a prolongedcelebration. They’ve been entertaining—for three days.”
“I pray I’ll find them sober,” scowledLansing.
Back on Main Street, Colonel Lansingadjusted his hat at a rakish angle, squared his shoulders and beganstriding toward the heart of this busy metropolis. And, for FortGale, “metropolis” was not too grandiloquent a word. In thenortheastern corner of the Arizona Territory, no settlement hadthrived as rapidly as had bustling, progressive Fort Gale. It owedits existence and its growing prosperity to a combination ofsuccessful enterprises; the territory surrounding it was uncommonlyfertile. There were vast expanses of rich graze for the many localcattle ranches. There were other areas in which a whole communityof farmers harvested bumper crops. In the hill country to the east,armies of prospectors were winning the “happy yellow” fromcreek-banks, draws, tiny canyons and pitted slopes.
Small wonder that Fort Gale was booming.The broad main stem was lined with structures somewhat moreimpressive than Lansing had seen in other frontier towns, and itsboardwalks thronged with well-heeled miners and cattlemen. As forthe Beaumont Regal, that dignified three-story edifice in the heartof the business sector, its facade was so imposing as to hold itsown with the best hotels of uptown ’Frisco.
He strode to the reception desk and stoodfrowning at the two men behind it. They greeted him politely andsomewhat wearily. The manager introduced himself.
“John Wyvern—at your service, Colonel. Ifyou wish accommodation, may I present my clerk, Mr. WillSneddon.”
“Thank you,” Lansing acknowledged. “No, Idon’t need accommodation. I’ve called to visit two of yourguests.”
The Beaumont Regal’s managerwas pudgy, well-groomed and apprehensive. He wore, to Lansing’s discerningeye, what could only be described as a haunted look. The BeaumontRegal’s reception clerk—also pudgy and well-groomed—appeared to bein a similar condition. Wyvern gripped the edge of the desk andseemed to cringe from Lansing, as he asked,
“Which—two—guests?”
“Their names,” said Lansing, “are Valentineand Emerson.”
Their reaction intrigued him. Wyvern turnedred about the ears and bowed his head. Sneddon made a chokingsound. “Is something wrong?” Lansing impatiently demanded.
“I’m shocked, Colonel, deeplyshocked,” muttered Wyvern. “Those two roughnecks have turned thisestablishment—the most respectable and exclusive hotel in FortGale—upside down.”
“They threw a party,” groaned Sneddon.
“To which they invited,” breathed Wyvern,“all the scum of Fort Gale—the tinhorns, the dead-beats andlayabouts, the out-of-work cowboys, the painted harpies from thehell-houses …”
“Noise!” panted Sneddon. “Good grief—thenoise!”
“I hear no noise,” frownedLansing.
“The lull,” said Wyvern, “before theresumption of the storm. They’re only waiting
