The Case of the Bogus Detective 3

‘Nobody move!’ cried Mark Twain. ‘I will smish the varmint!’ He grabbed an iron plate from the stove. Immediately he dropped it. It struck the plank floor with a resounding clang. ‘Dam!’ he cried. ‘That’s hot!’

Then he saw the expression on Bee’s face & said, ‘I mean a mill dam, of course.’

I said, ‘Do not smish him. Mouse is my pet.’

I let my tarantula crawl onto my hand. His little claws felt like tickly pinpricks.

‘You dunderhead!’ cried Mark Twain. ‘That ain’t no mouse. That is a tarantula. I encountered a passel of them in Carson City a year or so back.’

‘Mr. Twain is correct,’ said Affable. ‘That is an arachnid of the Theraphosidae Family.’

‘I didn’t say he was a mouse, I said his name was Mouse. It is his nom de plume,’ I added. ‘If you can call yourself “Mark Twain” then I can call my tarantula “Mouse”.’

Mark Twain scowled and blew on his burned fingers. ‘It is no laughing matter! Those critters are poisonous. Why, an old Paiute chief died of a tarantula bite not three years back.’

I said, ‘Winnemucca was old and infirm. If you treat tarantula spiders right, they will not hurt you.’

‘Also,’ Affie Fitzsimmons pointed out, ‘they are venomous. Not poisonous.’

Ping spoke up. ‘I tell P.K. he should keep it at boarding house.’

I said, ‘Mrs. Matterhorn despises spiders of any description.’

‘I hate spiders, too,’ said Bee, who was hiding behind Affie. ‘They give me the fantods. Especially that one. Why, he is as big as a saucer!’

Mark Twain picked his pipe off the floor. ‘Come on, Affie! Let us hunt down your pa so I can collect my hot toddy. I need fortification badly. As soon as the roads are clear I have to flee the territory.’

‘Why?’ I asked him.

He puffed his pipe. ‘On account of something I wrote.’

Bee said, ‘Are you in “hot water” again, on account of the scurrilous & slanderous articles you often print?’

‘It was neither scurrilous nor slanderous,’ drawled Mr. Mark Twain. ‘It was a delicate, a very delicate satire. Coming, Affie?’

‘I will be there directly,’ said Affie. He was watching Mouse crawling on my arm.

Bee said, ‘Where do you live, Affie?’

Without taking his eyes from Mouse Affie said, ‘My father and I are staying at the International Hotel.’

Bee flapped her hand at Mark Twain. ‘You run along, Mr. Twain,’ she said. ‘I can show Affie the way.’

Mark Twain tipped his hat and exited the premises.

Bee hooked her arm in Affie’s. ‘Come along, then. It is almost eleven.’

Affie looked at Mouse. Then he looked at me. ‘May I come by later and examine your specimens?’ he asked me.

‘Sure,’ I said with a shrug.

Bee tugged Affie’s arm and together they exited the premises.

Ping stood up. ‘I cannot believe you do not wash in four month,’ he said. ‘Come! I take you to my uncle’s bath house.’

I tipped my chair back and put my feet on my desk. ‘It is a free territory,’ I said. ‘I reckon I will decide when and where to bathe.’

Ping narrowed his eyes at me. Then he exited the premises, banging the door as he left.

I raised my left arm & twisted my head so I could sniff my armpit. Yup. I smelled pretty ripe. But it was not as bad as a skunk.

And at least nobody would take me for a gal.

At that moment, the door of my office opened and two strangers in hats and long coats stomped in. Their boots left muddy footprints.

Through the open door I saw their horses tied to one of the posts that held up the awning of the boardwalk.

‘May I help you gentlemen?’ I took my feet off the desk and sat up straight.

‘You bet you can help us,’ said the taller of the two men. He had a flat-topped gray hat on his head and a bushy black mustache on his face and a Colt’s Army Revolver in his hand.

He aimed his big six-shooter at my chest.

‘Hands up!’ he commanded. ‘You are under arrest.’

Read more here...

The Case of the Bogus Detective by Caroline Lawrence is the fourth P.K. Pinkerton Mystery. You can buy the first 3 real cheap HERE. And you can read the rest of this one HERE. Or just check into this blog, where I will be posting chapters weekly!

Ghost Fort Churchill

In 1860 a series of events at a place called Williams Station in Nevada sparked off a battle near Pyramid Lake between Paiute Indians and whites from the area in and around Virginia City. The first battle resulted in the deaths of 76 whites. (see the explanation right) Until Custer's defeat at Little Bighorn sixteen years later this was the largest casualty of whites at the hands of Native Americans. A second retaliatory battle resulted in the deaths of about 160 Paiutes. As a result of these troubles and also to protect the Pony Express, a fort was established on the Carson River along the Emigrant Trail. It was called Fort Churchill after Brigadier General Sylvester Churchill, the Inspector General of the US Army at that time.

During the years my books are set, the presence of soldiers at Fort Churchill was an important aspect of Virginia City life. The fort was abandoned in 1870, only ten years after it was established, and is now a ghost town. Or perhaps we should call it a "Ghost Fort". I wanted to see it because I like to stand in the places my books are set to get a feel for the terrain and atmosphere.

So on Thursday 5 May 2011, my sister "Hawkeye" and my husband "Goes the Wrong Way" and I set off from Virginia City just after 9.00am. Our silver Jeep takes us down Six Mile Canyon. Instead of turning north on highway 50 we carry straight on over, as our innkeepers have advised us, staying on Fort Churchill Road. At first it's paved but soon turns to gravelly dirt. As our innkeepers promised, the road is deserted and beautiful, following the course of the Carson River. Large cottonwoods line the banks and grouse run among the sage brush. We can see the snowy peaks of the Sierra Nevada mountains away to the west. 

At one point we stop and get out to look around. The sun is warm, the breeze is soft, the world is silent. We see grouse and squirrels, ducks and geese. There aren't many bugs up in Virginia City but there are plenty down here by the river. I have to shake them out of my hair before I get back in our Jeep. 

Fort Churchill National Park is marked by a flagpole and a gem of a visitors' center. The adobe ruins of barracks, storehouses and other fort buildings blend perfectly into the landscape. We are surrounded by mountains on every side and I understand why they offer star gazing evenings here on special occasions. There would be virtually no light pollution. A small but clear exhibit in the museum shows the layout of the camp and even tells us something about the plants of the region. After the fort was decommissioned, a local resident called Buckland bought it for only $750. He used timber, staircases, etc to build Buckland's Station. He and his wife had five children, all of whom died in infancy or childhood. Their gravestones can still be seen at the cemetery at Fort Churchill. 

After a good look around I convince "Hawkeye" to drive us to Pyramid Lake. My iPhone promises the journey will take less than an hour. (My iPhone turns out to be right) The road north through Silver Springs takes us through barren brown hills with virtually no trees. It is hauntingly beautiful. My great, great, great grandparents came from Battle Mountain. I've never been there but the landscape looks similar from pictures I've seen. About 45 minutes later we pass into the Indian reservation and shortly after that crest a rise to see a turquoise lake with a brown pyramid shaped island in the center. This is Pyramid Lake, bigger than Tahoe, almost more barren than Mono. A thousand pelicans flock at its southern end. It reminds me of scenes from sci-fi films of alien planets. 

A strange building that looks like steps rises up from the sagebrush horizon. This is a new visitors' center for the lake, designed to look like the pyramid at the center. Unfortunately it's closed, but a sign outside gives us lots of information. We drive up to a village called Sutcliffe but "Hawkeye" and "Goes" are not as enchanted with the lake as I am, so soon we are on the road back to Reno. 

Pictures below of Fort Churchill etc. 

plan of Fort Churchill

view of the ruins with sign identifying what's what

Visitor's center at Fort Churchill

portrait of Gen. Sylvester Churchill

Captain Stewart's quarters. See the spittoon?

Pyramid Lake visitor center sign

Mountains on the road from Pyramid Lake to Reno

Back to Virginia City

[The Case of the Deadly Desperados is an exciting adventure mystery set in and around Virginia City in the year 1862. This Western Mystery for kids aged 9 - 90 is available in hardback, Kindle and audio download. It will be published by G.P. Putnam's Sons in the USA in February.]