Coyote by Rhonda Roberts Page B

you’re wrong I am giving you that painting.’
    Des responded by snapping open the newspaper he’d brought with him and pretending to read it.
    â€˜Good idea,’ I said. ‘It’s about time we found an angle to get Seymour Kershaw back. If he dangles enough money in front of their noses, either Klaasen or Melnick will find a way to squeeze him in. We need to find a way to hook him first.’
    â€˜Like what?’
    â€˜I don’t know yet … But we have to find one. Come on!’ I prodded.
    â€˜Who is this Hector Q. Kershaw anyway?’ asked Des. ‘And what’s he got to do with the massacre at Dry Gulch?’
    Des had been in the States an even shorter time than I had. But everyone had at least heard of the Dry Gulch massacre, even if they didn’t know the details. It was a famous legend of the Wild West.
    I swiped Seymour’s newspaper from Des and scanned the article that had brought him to our door — the text on Hector’s diary. I read aloud, ‘In1867 the governor of New Mexico, his family and his entourage were murdered in a renegade Indian attack led by Coyote Jack. Hector Kershaw was the only survivor.’
    Des frowned. ‘There was a survivor? I thought they all died?’
    I ignored that. ‘Hector was found the next day, struggling back to Santa Fe covered in blood.’
    â€˜But why is his name plastered all over San Francisco?’ asked Des. He was right — there were statues of Hector Kershaw everywhere.
    I scanned the article again. ‘Hector was out west on business for his wealthy Boston banking family — checking their investments.’ I paraphrased the article and added in bits of Wauhope’s lecture. ‘Anyway, surviving the massacre changed Hector — he may’ve started out a sedate banker’s kid, but by the time he arrived here he’d turned into a man of action. When he reached San Francisco he became a deputised lawman and risked his life cleaning the place up. In the end he gave his own life saving the city from the Corsairs.’
    Des looked at me, one bushy eyebrow raised.
    I answered his unspoken question. ‘The Corsairs ran the underworld of old San Francisco.’
    â€˜Okay,’ said Des. ‘So Hector survived the infamous Dry Gulch in New Mexico to later become a big hero here.’
    â€˜So it seems. And that’s why we have to nab this one, Des. It’s just the sensational first case we need.’
    â€˜Didn’t you say that there was a professor interested in Hector’s diary?’
    â€˜Yeah.’ I nodded. ‘Jackson River said it will clear the name of his ancestor, Coyote Jack. That Coyote Jack wasn’t responsible for Dry Gulch.’
    Des whistled. ‘This may be a piece of luck after all, Kannon.’
    â€˜That’s right, Des. I intend to corner Jackson River ASAP and find out what he knows.’
    Jake arrived with our food and drink.
    I ordered another coffee, drained the one sitting in front of me, and then started my dinner. It smelt so good my mouth watered. I tucked in. It may only have been a burger and fries but they were the best I’d ever had. Fresh, crisp in the right places … and there was a tasty sauce I didn’t recognise. From the noises Des was making, his chicken salad must’ve been just as good.
    â€˜I’ll head out to Berkeley tomorrow,’ I muttered, wiping my mouth. We’d both finished everything off in record time. ‘River had said he was a criminologist at UC Berkeley. I’ll see what I can squeeze out of him about our hero Hector’s diary.’
    â€˜Speaking of heroes,’ said Des, casually scanning my face. ‘When does Marshal Honeycutt hit town again? It must be soon.’
    I covered my reaction. When Des made casual remarks it was time to watch out.
    Daniel Honeycutt was a Time Marshal — the National Time Administration’s version of an