Hudson let the door close behind him. “Smells like an old brass doorknob, Jackaby, and maybe a bit like sweaty man hands.”
My employer nodded and straightened up. “Chasing shadows, I suppose, but I have the most troubling suspicion that some unsavory element has frequented this establishment.”
“Hah!” Hudson laughed and slapped Jackaby on the shoulder. “You ain’t never met Bill, have you? Unsavory elements are sorta his clientele. He’s real good at getting hold of whatever a fella might need. Not exactly a hundred percent clean, but real good at the trade. Me an’ Bill go way back. I always save him a few of my best hides, and he’s gotten me some . . . some hard-to-find items when I needed ’em most. He always keeps shells in stock for my best rifle, too, so I make a point of stocking up when I come through.” He nodded to the boxes under his arm. “They’re the big ones.”
“This wouldn’t be the same Bill you told me about from the war, would it?” Jackaby asked, his eyes narrowing. “The one who sold Southern pistols to the North and Northern rifles to the South?”
Hudson chuckled and strode over to the cart. “In his defense, neither batch of ’em worked. Bill’s as crooked as a bag of snakes, but he ain’t one for blood, if he can avoid it. He’s just a fence.”
“A fence,” I said, “who deals in rare artifacts?”
Hudson nodded approvingly. “I do like this one, Jackaby—she’s a razor, ain’t she? You and I had the same idea, little lady, but no such luck. If somebody is looking to unload a stolen fossil, they didn’t go through Coyote Bill. He doesn’t know nothin’ about it.” Hudson pulled back the burlap flap and stashed the rifle shells in the back of his cart. He tucked the paper parcel in his belt. “Y’all headed down to the valley? Happy to give you a lift—I’m all done up here.”
“That would be wonderful,” I said.
“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d rather meet Coyote Bill for myself, first,” said Jackaby.
Hudson shrugged. “Go ahead and say hello, then. It’ll take me a sec to clear some space in the back, anyway.”
“Hold this, would you, Miss Rook.” Jackaby handed me his heavy satchel, which nearly threw me off balance as he slung it over my shoulder. “I’ll only be a moment.”
Hudson relieved me of the luggage as my employer vanished into the little shop. “Lemme give you a hand with that.” For all his rough and rugged appearance, the burly mountain man proved to be every bit the gentleman. Something squawked loudly as he nestled my suitcase into the back of his cart, and I jumped at the noise.
“Don’t pay Rosie no mind,” he called over his shoulder. “She’s an ornery thing, but she won’t be able to reach ya.”
I peered into the carriage at a bulky shape, draped in a heavy cloth. Only a small corner toward the bottom revealed the bars of what might have been a massive birdcage sitting atop a simple wooden crate. It was easily as tall as I was.
“Fair warning, though,” Hudson added, pulling the canvas closed. “If she does her business on the way, you’re gonna want the windows wide-open back there.” He made a funny face and fanned his nose in pantomime.
“I think I’ll be all right,” I said. “I’ve had to develop a certain tolerance for unexpected aromas working for Jackaby. Has he shown you his frog?”