No Less Than the Journey (30 page)

CHAPTER 19

Once again Aaron was faced with the fact that no Federal cells were available in Denver for prisoners arrested by United States marshals and their deputies. He was obliged to place the many aliased Walsh in the care of the suspect Denver police chief, in his downtown lock-up.

When the police officer on duty saw the marshal’s prisoner, he was horrified. ’I can’t lock up Mr Walsh. He’s one of Denver’s most important citizens … a personal friend of Chief Kelly!’

‘I suggest your chief chooses his friends with more care,’ Aaron retorted. ‘Walsh has been arrested for knowingly receiving stolen property – some of it the proceeds of murder. He’s made a statement admitting his guilt. I’m placing him in your custody only until I can arrange for him to be conveyed to a Federal court.’

‘You put him in the cell yourself,’ said the representative of Denver law, handing a ring of keys to Aaron, ‘I’m off to find Chief Kelly….’

Aaron lodged Walsh in an empty, cage-like cell, then, performing a task that should have been carried out by the
absent policeman, he entered Walsh’s details in the police office’s prisoners’ ledger.

He had just completed this task when Chief Kelly stormed into the office followed by the officer who should have been guarding prisoners.

Angrily confronting Aaron, Kelly said, ‘What’s this I hear about you arresting Mr Walsh and demanding he be put in my lock-up?’

‘It’s exactly as you heard it, Chief,’ Aaron replied amiably, ‘He’s admitted to having knowingly handled property that is the proceeds of robbery and murder. Until I’m able to have him taken before a Federal Judge I am placing him in your care. It’s all quite uncomplicated. You’ll receive the usual fee for accommodating a Federal prisoner, no more and no less.’

‘This is preposterous!’ the police chief blustered. ‘Vic Walsh is a highly respected member of this community and has done a great deal to rid Denver of some of the more undesirable riffraff who found their way into our town.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ Aaron said, ‘Mr Walsh, or Mr Walsingham, or Waller – you can take your pick of his names – is choosey about those he tolerates. One day it will be marshals and police chiefs, another time it will be men like the Denton gang and river pirates. Take care of him for the United States government, Chief, I’ll be back to collect him from you as soon as I can make arrangements to get him out of the Territory.’

Arresting Walsh was only the beginning of that day’s excitement. The result was that the party Aaron had planned when Wes announced his proposed marriage to Anabelita needed to be put on hold.

Within an hour of Wes telling the news to his friend, Old Charlie arrived unexpectedly and came to the US Marshal’s office with news that the Denton gang had come down from
the more remote snow-bound heights of the Rockies and taken over a large cabin in a remote canyon not far from the mining camp where Charlie had parted company with Wes the day before.

The mountain-man had gone to the mining camp with the stated intention of buying winter stores but after meeting up with some of his companions from earlier days he had spent a long evening carousing instead of returning home to Usdi.

During the course of the night’s revelry the saloon in the mining camp had been visited by a few of the Denton gang and Old Charlie learned of the gang’s new hideout.

In view of what had happened to Wes’s uncle and the threat made by Gideon Denton to avenge the death of his brothers, Old Charlie decided that Wes and Aaron should know that the gang was now no more than twenty miles away, so this morning he had ridden into Denver to warn them.

Wes and Aaron were grateful for the warning but the US Marshal was not concerned solely for the safety of his friend. When word reached the outlaws of Walsh’s arrest – and Aaron knew it would be carried to them very quickly – they would undoubtedly consider it in their interest to make a surprise sortie into Denver and break Walsh free from gaol.

‘How many outlaws are at this hideout, Charlie,’ he asked.

‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Old Charlie replied. ‘The Denton gang is bigger than most in the Territories, but I doubt anyone’s ever stopped to count ’em. What difference does it make?’

‘A lot, Charlie. There’s no way I can raise a posse to go against them, but if I could prove it really is a very large gang I might be able to call on the army for help.’

After a few moments thought, he asked, ‘Would it be possible to get close enough to their hideout to make a head count of them?’

‘I know the canyon where they have their cabin and you just might be able to get close enough – if you was to know where to go, but you wouldn’t last long if they caught you scouting around trying to find a hidey-hole.’

‘Well, seeing that you know the lay-out of the canyon can you tell me of such a place?’

‘What you’re really saying is, will I take you there and show you the right spot?’

‘I can’t think of anyone I’d trust to do it better, Charlie.’

The old mountain-man shook his head, ‘There must be something about me that makes army men – and one-time army men – think I’ll do any damn-fool thing to help ’em out when there’s trouble brewing, or when they intend stirring some up.’

‘Well, will you do it,’ Aaron persisted.

‘Only because it’s you who’s asking,’ Old Charlie replied. ‘When do you want to go?’

‘How soon can you take me.’

‘Well, seeing as how we don’t know too many of the gang and there could even be some of ’em right here in Denver, we’d need to set off quietly after dark and get hidden up by sunrise. We can’t risk meeting up with any of ’em along the trail …’

‘Good, that’s settled then,’ Aaron cut in on the old man’s observations, ‘We’ll leave tonight. How long will it take to get there?’

Old Charlie groaned, ‘I was hoping to get back to my cabin and sleep off last night’s hangover when I left here.’

‘Since when have you needed to do that …? What time shall we meet up, Charlie?’

‘We’d best be leaving about midnight. That will give us plenty of time to get there, hide the horses and find a good hiding place up among the rocks. Perhaps even manage an
hour’s sleep before dawn.’

Turning to Wes, Aaron said, ‘Will you be coming along with us, Wes?’

‘Just try leaving me behind,’ Wes replied, ‘I have a personal interest in this, Aaron … besides, I haven’t handed my badge back yet, I’m still a deputy and I suppose you might say this is part of my duty, but I doubt whether Anabelita is going to forgive me for neglecting her for another night.’

CHAPTER 20

It was a chilly night, although not as bitterly cold as when Wes had gone with Old Charlie to his mountain cabin and tonight a near full moon and a myriad of stars made travelling easy – too easy, according to the mountain-man. He pointed out that if they were able to see everything about them, they could be seen by anyone on the look-out for strangers.

Fortunately, they met with no one and the only sound they heard was the occasional mournful howling of an apparently lonesome wolf.

Long before the sky showed even the slightest hint of dawn the three men had settled themselves in a spot among the boulders of the Rocky Mountain ‘foothills’, blending in with their surroundings as best they could, their horses tethered in a hollow some distance away, hidden from the sounds made by any riders who might be making their way to the outlaws’ hideout.

As Old Charlie explained to Wes, sound travelled for an incredible distance in the rarefied air of the mountains – and
even the so-called foothills where they now stood were more than six thousand feet above sea level. The outlaws occupying the cabin that was still lost in the shadowed canyon would be able to hear the slightest sound made by the trio.

His caution was not misplaced. When a hint of dawn was showing in the east one of the outlaws left the cabin in order to relieve himself. The sound of the door closing behind him sounded like a rifle shot, startling Wes who had begun to doze.

The next sound was an oath from the same outlaw when he scraped his shin on the handle of an axe that had been left embedded in a pine log close to the cabin.

‘That sounded as though he was almost within touching distance,’ Wes whispered, in awe.

‘Remember it,’ Charlie replied in an equally soft voice, ‘They’ll be able to hear us just as clearly.’

There followed a lengthy period of waiting, during which Wes found himself wondering what Anabelita would be doing, back in Denver. She would no doubt be sleeping after her night’s work at the Thespian.

She had been unhappy about him coming on this trip, fearing he would be placing himself in danger, yet again. It had not helped when one of the gambling saloon’s patrons had asked her whether it was true Aaron and Wes had arrested Vic Walsh.

When she replied warily that she believed it was so, the punter shook his head doubtfully, ‘Berryman may be a US Marshal, but Walsh is a big man in Denver with some very dubious friends who won’t take this lying down. I hope the Marshal knows what he’s doing.’

Anabelita had reported the conversation to Wes before he left Denver with Aaron and Charlie.

Aaron had brought a pair of field glasses with him and as the sun rose behind the Rockies he began scanning the cabin in the canyon. It was reasonably large, with stables extending the whole length of the rear of the building and a corral beyond this.

He began counting the men as they emerged from the cabin and after a while, he said, ‘I’ve counted fifteen outlaws so far, but twenty-four horses have been released into the corral, so there are probably more.’

‘Even fifteen are more than the three of us can tackle,’ Wes said, ‘and, as you say, some are probably still asleep in the cabin. Do you see anyone you recognize?’

‘Not yet,’ Aaron replied, ‘I’d let you have the field glasses but first I want to try to make as accurate a count as I can … just a minute, there’s someone I
do
recognize.
It’s Ira Gottland
! He’s obviously riding with the gang now, probably as their leader. If we could only take them all we’d have ourselves quite a haul and make Colorado a hell of a lot safer for law-abiding folk.’

‘What’s Gottland doing?’ Wes asked.

‘He’s just gone round the back of the cabin, to the corral,’ Aaron reported, ‘He seems to be checking the hoofs of the horses….’

As he was speaking, Old Charlie nudged him, without saying anything and, when the marshal turned to him, pointed in the direction of the canyon entrance where two men were approaching, apparently from the Denver direction.

Their arrival brought more outlaws from inside the cabin and Aaron said, ‘There are twenty-one of them now, and the new arrivals will make twenty-three. They’ll all be used to handling guns, so that’s a whole lot of fire power to go up against.’

The two latest arrivals pulled their horses to a halt and had an animated conversation with the outlaws who crowded around as they dismounted.

Suddenly, one of the men broke away from the others and, running towards the corral, began shouting before he reached it, his excited words carrying clearly to the three watching men.

‘Ira…! Ira … Gideon and Curly are back … and they’ve done it. They’ve killed the Marshal and that English partner of his!’

The three watching men looked at each other in bewilderment. It was Wes who put their feelings into words, ‘What do they mean, they’ve killed the Marshal and an Englishman. Who are they talking about?’

‘I think they’re celebrating killing
us
,’ Aaron replied, adding grimly, ‘but we’re not dead, so who have they killed? We’ve seen what we came here for. I think we ought to head back to town and find out.

It had been an unexpectedly quiet night in the Thespian Club and Lola and Anabelita spent much of the time chatting to each other.

‘Have you and Wes decided when you’re going to be married,’ Lola asked.

‘We’ve hardly had enough time together for me to agree to marry him,’ Anabelita complained. ‘Since Aaron succeeded in pinning a deputy’s badge on Wes I’ve hardly seen him. I can see why Aaron’s never found time to marry.’

Observing Lola’s sad, albeit fleeting expression, Anabelita immediately apologised. ‘I’m sorry, Lola, that was unthinking of me.’

‘It’s all right,’ Lola replied, trying to appear unconcerned, ‘I’ve never expected Aaron to even think of marrying me. I
may have given up being a whore, but no matter where I go there’s always going to be some man who knows me for what I once was. It’s enough that Aaron wants to be with me. He’s looking after me better than anyone ever has. I’m happy enough just being what I am to him.’

‘I know,’ Anabelita said, deeply regretting her unthinking words and trying to undo what she had said, ‘He’s told me so … he’s told Wes too.’

Her face lighting up, Lola said, ‘Has he? He’s a good man, Anabelita. I know you wouldn’t agree, but I wish he had Wes with him all the time. I worry about him going off on his own against some of the outlaws out here. They’d rather shoot a lawman than talk to him.’

‘I believe you. Look, it’s going to be absolutely dead in here tonight, why don’t we close our tables and have an early night? We’ve both lost sleep with the comings and goings of our men … Aaron wouldn’t mind.’

Lola agreed and telling Pat what they were doing, the two women left the Thespian Club and made their way to the house, chatting happily.

In the house they had a drink and talked together for half-an-hour before turning in.

Across the road from the house a man who was standing outside the Nugget saloon watched the lamps in their rooms go out and went inside to tell Gideon Denton, who was downing whisky at the bar.

Anabelita did not know how long she had been sleeping before she was woken by her own coughing and she tasted smoke. At the same time the door to her room was flung open and a panic-stricken Lola fell inside, a rapidly growing cloud of smoke entering with her.

‘Anabelita … quick, put something on and get out … the house is on fire.’

Struggling out of bed, Anabelita snatched a coat from behind the bedroom door. It belonged to Wes, but she put it on as quickly as she could, at the same time asking, ‘Where
is
the fire?’

‘I don’t know, I could hear it crackling away downstairs, but there’s so much smoke it’s difficult to know what’s happening.’

While they were speaking they had reached the head of the stairs, but flames were leaping up towards them. It was apparent there would be no escape this way.

Coughing and choking, Lola said, ‘The fire must have started in the hall … we’ll go to Pat’s room. It’s farthest away from the hall and we can get out of his window and drop into the street.’

They felt their way along the passageway, eyes streaming and having increasing difficulty in breathing. Both women were barefooted and could feel the heat coming up now through the flimsy floorboards.

They reached a recess in the passageway and, trying to keep the terror she felt from her voice, Lola said, ‘This is Pat’s room … Stay with me, Anabelita.’

Opening the door, and gripping Anabelita’s hand so tightly that it hurt, Lola led the way into the smoke-filled room. Groping her way to the window, she fell over Pat’s bed along the way.

Although they were now some distance from the downstairs hallway it felt even hotter in here and pulling back the curtains the two women could see flames from the whole ground floor of their house reflected in the Nugget’s windows across the street.

Fumbling for the catch of the sash window, Lola eventually found it and, sliding it back, lifted up the window.

No sooner had she done so than the window in the room
below them exploded with a frightening crash and there was a deafening roar as flames erupted from the gaping hole left behind, reaching as high as the window sill where the two women cowered.

At the same time they heard a frightening crackle behind them and flames began to show themselves through the dry wooden floorboards.

‘We have to get out, Lola,’ Anabelita said, her eyes red and smarting from the smoke. ‘Climb out of the window, hang from the sill and drop. It will probably hurt your legs when you land, but you’ll be safe.’

Frightened of staying, yet even more scared of dropping through the flames onto the unseen boardwalk below, Lola said, ‘No, you go first … I’ll follow you.’

There was no time to argue, the flames showing through the floor of the room had taken hold of the dry timber now, fanned by air being sucked through the shattered window of the downstairs room.

Climbing awkwardly through the window, Anabelita edged herself over the sill, well aware of the strain she was putting on her stomach, and hoping that what she was doing would not harm her baby … Wes’s baby.

As she edged farther over, weight and gravity took command. Twisting awkwardly, she managed to grip the window sill and a moment later was hanging full length from it.

As she looked down, trying to see the boardwalk through the smoke, there was a sudden sharp crack which Lola took to be something from within the inferno. The next moment Anabelita was gone, disappearing into the smoke.

‘Anabelita, are you all right?’

As Lola leaned out of the window and peered down through the smoke there was another crack, just like the
first – but Lola did not hear this one.

She slipped back into the burning room, a bullet hole drilled expertly in the centre of her forehead.