Dog Heavies (A Lucas Hallam Mystery Book 3) Read online

Hallam shrugged. "I reckon you could say it's keepin' folks out of trouble."

  Eliot cocked an eyebrow. "And are you expecting trouble on this trip?"

  "It has a way of poppin' up," Hallam said simply.

  THREE

  After the angry tourists were somewhat mollified by Darby's apology and his offer to give them passes to a premiere that night at Grauman's Egyptian Theater, the production chief herded his charges into the two limousines taking them to Union Station. Darby, the two Tremaines, and Hallam rode in the first of the big cars, while the six cowboys piled in the other one. Hallam would have enjoyed riding with his friends, but there would be plenty of time for shooting the breeze during the train trip. At the moment, he considered himself on the job, and that meant sticking close to Eliot Tremaine, even though it was unlikely any trouble would develop during the short journey from Hollywood to downtown Los Angeles.

  "So, Lucas, how are you doing?" Peter Tremaine asked as he and his son settled into the rear seat and Hallam and Darby took the one facing the back. The director went on, "It's been a while since we've worked together."

  "Reckon it has," Hallam agreed. "I've been keepin' busy, Pete. You know me, never did like to sit still for too long."

  Tremaine nodded. "I remember. But it was always a pleasure to work with you." He took out a long cigar, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it with a gold lighter engraved with his initials.

  Eliot lounged back against the soft cushion of the seat and said, "I'm still not sure I have this straight. Are you an actor, Mr. Hallam?"

  Before Hallam could answer, Tremaine said, "Lucas is what we call a riding extra, Eliot. He appears on horseback whenever we need a shot of a posse or a gang of badmen or a cavalry troop. Although he made a fine dog heavy for me in one of my pictures."

  Hallam grinned. "Didn't have to do much actin' in that part, Pete, just get plugged when the sheriff rode in."

  "Dog heavy?" Eliot echoed. "How colorful. What the hell is a dog heavy?"

  Tremaine laughed and nodded at Hallam. "I'll leave that to you to answer, Lucas, since you and your friends have played so many of them."

  Hallam looked across at Eliot Tremaine and saw genuine interest in the young man's eyes. "Reckon it's pretty simple," he said. "The heavies are the villains of the picture, and when one of them writer fellers wants to let the audience know right off that a character is a bad 'un, he just has him ride into town, get down off his horse, and kick the nearest dog. Gets the audiences to booin' and hissin' soon as they see that."

  Eliot chuckled. "I see. The villain kicks a dog, ergo he's a dog heavy."

  Hallam wasn't sure what the hell that meant, but the boy seemed to understand, so he nodded. "Those fellers back there in the other car have done just about everything there is to do in Western pictures. They can show you the ropes better'n anybody else."

  Eliot regarded him shrewdly. "You still haven't really explained your presence, though," he said.

  Hallam opened his mouth to tell the young actor about his one-man private-detective agency, but before he could say anything, Darby caught his eye and gave a minuscule shake of his head. Given what he had been told about Eliot Tremaine, Hallam realized that the young man might be upset if he knew that the studio had hired a watchdog for him. Hallam shrugged and said, "Reckon I'm just goin' along for the ride. Texas is where I was born, and I haven't been there for a long time."

  "I see." Eliot didn't sound convinced. "You said something earlier about trouble…?"

  "Oh, Lucas was just joking," Darby said quickly. "You know how cowboys like to joke."

  "Yes, I saw quite an example of that tendency back at the studio," Eliot commented dryly. "Do those two men pull pranks like that often?"

  Darby's voice was grim as he replied, "Too often. They don't seem to realize how dependent our business is on the goodwill of the public."

  Peter Tremaine spoke up. "Pecos and Teddy are just high-spirited young men, Fred."

  "That didn't stop you from firing them from one of your pictures when they accidentally started a prairie fire with those flaming arrows."

  Tremaine shrugged and nodded. "They cost us some precious shooting time. And time is money, Fred, you know that."

  "Indeed."

  "At any rate, that phony scalping was great fun," Eliot said. "Those tourists were completely taken in. I haven't seen anything so hilarious in a long time. I'm glad those two men are going with us."

  "You're welcome to them," Darby replied. "If they show up in time to catch the train, that is. They're notoriously undependable."

  Hallam looked out the window of the limousine. They were nearing Union Station. He pulled the turnip watch from his pocket and flipped it open. It was still twenty minutes until noon. He would have been willing to bet that Pecos and Teddy Spotted Horse would be there in time. It wouldn't be like those two to miss an opportunity for an adventure, and that was just the way they would regard this trip to Texas.

  The limousines pulled up to the entrance of the large, impressive depot, their drivers disregarding signs that said no parking was allowed in this area. Hallam and the others climbed out, and the chauffeurs began to unload bags from the trunks of the big black cars. Out of habit, Hallam's gaze darted around the street, looking for any signs of trouble. He saw none and told himself to relax. This wasn't a bodyguard job; no one had threatened Eliot Tremaine. Any disturbances of the peace were likely to come from the young man himself.

  They strolled into the station, their footsteps echoing hollowly in the huge, high-ceilinged room. The air was filled with the usual babel of voices from the many people coming and going and the ever-present rumble of locomotive engines. Hallam had been in scores of train stations over the years, and they always gave him a little surge of excitement. You never knew what was going to happen when you got on a train and started for someplace far away.

  Hallam talked quietly with his friends, swapping lies and spinning yarns while Darby went to the ticket windows and tended to the details of the upcoming journey. Neatly uniformed porters wheeling handcarts came and took their bags away to be loaded on the train. Hallam hung onto his warbag and noted that the other cowboys did the same. Eliot Tremaine had more than enough baggage to make up for that, however, including several obviously heavy trunks.

  Hallam suppressed the urge to ask the boy what the devil he was taking to Texas. Plainly, Eliot didn't believe in traveling light. Men who had spent much of their lives on horseback were in the habit of only carrying what they had to have, Hallam supposed.

  Eliot and his father ambled out onto the platform and stood talking. Max Hilyard inclined his head toward them and asked Hallam, "What do you think of that young pup, Lucas?"

  "Reckon he's plenty full of himself," Hallam told the stocky, middle-aged Hilyard. "And from what I hear he's been in a heap of scrapes for somebody no older'n he is." Hallam took a deep breath. "I reckon we'll just have to wait and see. His daddy can be pretty ornery, but Pete's a good man when you come right down to it. Maybe the boy got some of that from him."

  "Hope so," Tall Cotton Jones said. "Ain't been too friendly so far."

  Jeff Grant, looking a little lost without a rope in his hands, said, "What's your part in this, Lucas? Why'd Darby draft you to be one of the boy's teachers?"

  Hallam saw the suspicion in Jeff's eyes and knew that the others were asking themselves the same question. He had knocked around the West for a long time, but while he was at home in a saddle, he couldn't ride like Red Callahan, bust broncs like Max Hilyard and Tall Cotton Jones, handle a rope like Jeff Grant, or perform stunts like Harv Macklin. Stone Riordan was pure magic with a six-gun when it came to trick shots; Hallam was fast enough on the draw and accurate enough to have survived for a lot of hard years, but he was no hand with the fancy stuff. No, the others knew as well as he did that his real talent was staying alive.

  He shrugged. "Reckon I must be part of the entertainment."

  "I've heard you spin yarns, Lucas," Macklin pointed out. "We all have. You ain't that funny."

  Hallam frowned. "Hell, to listen to you boys, a man'd think he wasn't welcome. I don't have to go to Texas, you know. Could just leave you on your own… with Pecos and Teddy Spotted Horse."

  Stone Riordan slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't get your back up, Lucas. Why don't we just say that your job is to ride herd on Pecos and Teddy?" The others nodded their agreement to that proposal.

  "Well, thank you most to death," Hallam said dryly. "Happen they cause some sort of ruckus—which is mighty damn likely—what should I do with 'em? Shoot 'em?"

  "Now that's a thought," Tall Cotton Jones solemnly intoned.

  J. Frederick Darby came bustling over to them, carrying a thick sheaf of tickets. He thrust them toward Hallam and said, "Why don't you take care of these, Lucas?" He looked around. "Where are Peter and Eliot?"

  Hallam nodded toward the platform. "They already moseyed out there. We about ready to board, Mr. Darby?" As he spoke, he riffled through the tickets and saw that there were two extras, for Pecos and Teddy Spotted Horse, who had not yet arrived. Hallam didn't know whether to hope that they were too late to catch the train or not.

  Darby consulted his watch. "Five minutes to noon. It's time to board, all right."

  "What about Pecos and Teddy?"

  "I suppose the conductor would hold the train for a few minutes if I asked him… but I won't ask him. I warned those two. If they're not here on time, they'll just have to find work somewhere else."

  Darby sounded adamant on that point. Hallam shrugged and turned toward the platform, moving out through the big doors with the other cowboys at his side. Darby went straight to Eliot Tremaine and held out his hand. "I'm glad we were able to work out our differences, Eliot," he said. "I'm sure this wi
ll be the beginning of a long and productive relationship between you and the studio."

  "We'll see," Eliot replied as he shook Darby's hand. He turned to his father. "So long, Dad."

  "Goodbye, Eliot. Just remember, you're going to come back from Texas a cowboy," Tremaine said firmly.

  "We'll see about that, too." Eliot casually slapped his father on the arm and then turned to stroll toward the steps leading up into the passenger car next to the platform. A conductor stood beside the steps, glancing impatiently at his pocket watch.

  Hallam shook hands with Darby. "I'm counting on you, Lucas," the production chief said in a quiet voice. "We've got quite an investment in that boy."

  "Not as much as I have," Peter Tremaine grunted as he shook Hallam's hand. He glanced over at the others. "If you men can turn him into a cowboy, I'll be very grateful. It may be too much, though, to ask you to turn him into a man."

  "We'll see, Pete," Hallam said, echoing Eliot's earlier statements and sounding just about as convinced.

  Hallam and the other cowboys moved to the steps and climbed aboard. Hallam was the last one to climb to the platform of the passenger car, and as he did, Max Hilyard said, "Looks like Pecos and Teddy didn't make it."

  "Looks like it," Hallam agreed. Unaccountably, he felt a little disappointed. The two youngsters might have livened things up.

  The train's whistle shrilled, and Hallam felt the slight lurch of motion under his feet as the locomotive's drivers took hold. Slowly, the train began to roll. Hallam lifted a hand to wave to Darby and Peter Tremaine.

  Movement behind them caught his eye. He grinned as two figures suddenly burst out of the doors from the station's lobby and dashed toward the train. One of them howled over the hubbub, "Hold on there! Hold that train!"

  It was too late for that, Hallam knew. Pecos and Teddy were going to have to run for it.

  They had changed their movie costumes for Western suits like those the other cowboys were wearing. Teddy's long hair was loose underneath his Stetson. Both young men had to hold their hats on as they ran across the platform. Each of them carried a hastily packed warbag.

  Harv Macklin and Jeff Grant called out encouragement to the two youngsters as the train began to pick up speed. Hallam stayed where he was, next to the railing at the rear of the car. The conductor had picked up the portable steps and replaced them inside the car just before the train pulled out. Already the car was a good thirty feet further down the platform than it had been only moments before.

  Pecos and Teddy flew past Darby and Peter Tremaine. Darby glared at their retreating backs for a moment, then waved a hand in disgust and turned away. Tremaine kept watching, a slight smile on his lips.

  Eliot reappeared in the doorway of the car and asked the cowboys who were gathered at the railing, "What's going on?"

  "Pecos and Teddy are tryin' to catch the train," Stone Riordan answered. "You remember, they were the ones who put on that fake fight at the studio."

  "Of course." Eliot moved to the railing as well, taking advantage of the opening Hilyard and Tall Cotton Jones created by moving aside. He leaned forward eagerly, turning his head and looking back down the platform of the station.

  Pecos and Teddy could have grabbed the railings on one of the cars further back and swung up there, but it was clear that they were trying to reach the one on which their friends were riding. The high-heeled boots they wore were not made for running, however, and as the train began to pick up speed, it was obvious that they were losing ground.

  Hallam suddenly found himself leaning far out from the car's platform, extending a big hand as far as he could, and exhorting the two men to hurry. "I'll give you a hand!" he promised.

  Pecos lunged ahead, reaching for Hallam's fingers. He was as red in the face as his Indian companion, and he was puffing for air as he ran. But somewhere he found a little extra speed and reached out to grasp Hallam's hand. Hallam felt the jerk as the train's momentum caught up with Pecos and yanked him ahead at even greater speeds. The boy's feet threatened to go out from under him.

  The end of the station platform was coming up quickly. Clamping one hand onto the railing, Hallam leaned out even more and shifted the grip of his other hand onto Pecos's wrist. Pecos let out a yelp as he started to fall, but then Hallam lifted him bodily, swinging him through the air and pulling back. Both men half collapsed onto the platform of the railroad car.

  Teddy drew even with the platform for an instant and leaped forward, arms extended. Harv Macklin and Max Hilyard were ready for him, each of them catching an arm and pulling him aboard.

  Hallam caught his breath and his balance and straightened. He looked at Pecos and Teddy, who were slapping each other on the back and congratulating themselves for making the train. Hallam said, "I reckon you younkers know that you could've got us killed."

  "Hell, Lucas, I've done lots harder stunts than that," Pecos protested laughingly.

  "Not with me, you ain't."

  "We're here, though," Teddy pointed out, "and nobody got hurt. Now somebody tell me again why it is we're going to Texas?"

  "To have a good time, ya forgetful old redskin," Pecos said. He laughed again, and his high spirits were infectious. The other cowboys began to grin, even the normally sober-visaged Stone Riordan.

  Hallam just hoped that the trip was as much fun as Pecos and Teddy seemed to think it would be.

  Eliot Tremaine pumped Pecos's and Teddy's hands and said, "That was a magnificent entrance, fellows. What say we all go on into the car? I've got some excellent brandy I brought along..."

  "Lead on, old son, lead on," Pecos told him with a grin.

  Hallam started to smile as the others began to file into the car. Maybe he was taking the whole thing too seriously. Could be he was just getting old and crotchety. Spending the next few weeks with some young devils like Pecos and Teddy—and Eliot Tremaine—might be just the thing he needed to make him feel like his old self again.

  It was a little early in the day, but some of that brandy Eliot was talking about might just hit the spot.

  FOUR

  Hallam liked riding trains. There was something about the rhythm of the rails that both comforted him and awoke a sense of anticipation within him.

  The car that he and the others had boarded had sleeping compartments. Hallam checked the tickets that he was carrying and told his companions to take their pick of the four compartments reserved for them. Eliot Tremaine chose first, selecting the one closest to the front of the car—and therefore closest to the club car, which was the next in line—and Hallam quickly tossed his warbag into the compartment's upper berth, claiming it before any of the others could. He wanted to stay as close to Eliot as possible, just to make sure that the boy didn't get into any mischief. The other men paired up naturally: Stone Riordan and Tall Cotton Jones, both laconic, would bunk together so that no idle chatter would get on their nerves; Red Callahan and Harv Macklin, who performed more stunts than the others, chose another compartment; and that left Max Hilyard and Jeff Grant, who got along fine, to share the final one.

  A frown on his face, Pecos stood in the narrow corridor that ran down one side of the train and asked, "Hey, where the hell're Teddy and I supposed to sleep?"

  "There's seats in the club car," Hilyard told him. "Reckon they'd beat the floor."

  "You expect us to sit up all the way to Texas?"

  Hallam said, "Mr. Darby probably didn't have a chance to reserve a sleeper for you boys, since you got added to this little excursion at the last minute. Maybe we can talk to the conductor, see if he can scare up anything else."

  "You can damn well bet we will," Pecos promised.

  "Take it easy, pard," Teddy said. "Sitting up might not be so bad. We've slept in worse places."

  "I guess you're right. That don't mean I have to like it, though."

  Eliot Tremaine emerged from his compartment carrying a bottle he had dug out of the expensive canvas bag he had kept with him. "Here you are, gentlemen," he said, "that elixir I promised you."

  Pecos grinned. "Bring on that snake medicine, Eliot," he said familiarly.

  "Why don't we go up to the club car and see if we can get some glasses for it?" Eliot suggested.