Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles (30 page)

“You're right,” said Condon. “Marshal Anderson should return sometime tonight, and you'll find him in the office tomorrow.”

“I'll see him then,” Silver said, irritated by the delay.

 

Cramped and sore, Wes and El Lobo lay in the darkness for what seemed like hours, before the overhead door was opened. Wilks came down the stairs with a lantern, while two men armed with Winchesters followed. Wilks put down the lantern and removed the ropes from the ankles of the captives. Only then did he speak.

“Up the steps. You got one more chance to talk.”

“Well,” said Belton when Wes and El Lobo entered the office, “I trust you are enjoying our hospitality. I imagine you're hungry and thirsty. You can have food and drink in return for telling me what I wish to know.”

“Go to hell, you dragon-faced bastard,” Wes replied.

Belton laughed. “I admire a man with spirit, a man who can look death in the eye. I'd suggest you take a good look, gentlemen, because you will be leaving us soon. Wilks, take them back to the hole.”

“You want their ankles bound again?” Wilks asked.

“No,” said Belton. “Leave their legs free, so they won't be cramped. They'll have some walking to do. Once they're aboard, Antonio can have them bound again.”

Wes and El Lobo were again shoved down the steps into the darkness from which they had escaped for a brief few minutes. Again the door was closed above them.

“They take us to ship,” El Lobo said.
“Malo.”

“In spades,” said Wes. “They're not taking us along just for the ride. We can't escape from here, but once aboard the ship, we might have a chance.”

“Per‘ap,” El Lobo said without much conviction.

 

It was almost dark when the rain began. Two hours into the storm, Abel Wilks backed a wagon in for loading. Six wooden crates were loaded first. Then, accompanied by a pair of armed men, Wilks swung open the door that led to the hole in which Wes and El Lobo were imprisoned.

“On your feet,” Wilks ordered. “You're about to take a ride. Your last one.”

Wes and El Lobo struggled to their feet, and with the armed men behind them made their way up the steps. They were then marched down the hall, toward the double doors. The doors were opened, letting in the blowing rain.

“Into the wagon,” said Wilks.

Wes and El Lobo stepped across the tailgate and into the wagon as rain pelted the canvas over their heads. Stumbling against the wooden crates, they managed to sit down. With Wilks on the wagon box, the wagon rumbled away. Behind the wagon rode four of the armed men. It wasn't far to the dock. Wes and El Lobo were helped out of the wagon and stood in the driving rain while the four riders unloaded the freight. In a dinghy tied up at the dock, there were three men, one of them with a lantern. Using ropes, the men on the dock lowered the heavy crates into the dinghy. After the freight had been loaded, Wes and El Lobo were lowered into the boat.

“Ellis,” said Wilks, “you and Fulton escort our guests to the ship and see that they're safely in the cargo hold. Be sure you bind their ankles before you leave them. When you have done that, leave them to Antonio. He's been told what to do with them.”

Reaching the ship, Wes and El Lobo were taken aboard first. Ellis and Fulton marched them down narrow steps to the cargo hold. There they sat with their backs against wooden crates, while their ankles were securely bound. When Ellis and Fulton departed, the ship's crew brought the six wooden crates into the hold. After that, there was only the sound of the storm outside.

“We don't got much time,” El Lobo said.

“I reckon we have until dawn to escape,” said Wes. “If this thing ever gets to the open sea, then we're dead. But there must be some way we can free ourselves. Maybe the point of a nail in one of these crates . . .”

But they soon learned their task wouldn't be easy. They heard footsteps, and a voice spoke to them from the gloom.

“Ah, señors, welcome aboard. I am Captain Antonio Diaz. I trust you will not attempt anything foolish. The hatch above you will be closed and locked, while the
hombre
outside will be armed, with orders to shoot if he must.”

Diaz departed, and the hatch above them was closed.

“Madre de Dios,”
said El Lobo, “we be trapped.”

“Not for long,” Wes said. “We'll worry about the coyote guardin' the hatch after we're free of these ropes.”

 

Restlessly Silver paced the floor of his hotel room as the rain pelted the windowpane. He had lost yet another day without learning the fate of Wes and El Lobo, and with no certainty that he would fare better tomorrow. He still must convince the U.S. marshal of the necessity of gaining entry into the warehouse he was virtually certain was the headquarters of the Dragon conspiracy. He shucked his hat, gunbelt, and boots, but after a few minutes on the bed, he got up. Angrily he clapped on his hat, buckled on his gunbelt, and drew on his boots. He then found an all-night diner, where he sat and drank coffee until the first rosy fingers of dawn painted the eastern sky. He ordered breakfast, ate hurriedly, and then went to the livery where he had stabled his horse. Saddling the animal, his Winchester in the boot, he sought and found a general store that was already open. It was vacant, except for the proprietor.

“I need some dynamite, caps, and fuses,” Silver said. “Half a dozen sticks ought to do.”

Silver then returned to his hotel room, where he capped and fused the dynamite. He wrapped it carefully in brown paper, placed it in his saddlebag, and then rode back to the U.S. marshal's office. To his disgust, Densmore, the night deputy was still there.

“I imagine Marshal Anderson got in late last night,” Densmore said. “He should be in before much longer.”

“I'd purely hate to have need of him in a matter of life and death,” said Silver.

Densmore looked at him with some amusement, and Silver settled down to wait. When Anderson arrived, he reminded Silver of Tom Rigger. Gravely he studied the credentials Silver had presented. He returned them to Silver, and then he spoke.

“Densmore, man the front desk a little longer. I'm going to be busy for a while.”

He then nodded to Silver, and Silver followed him into the office, closing the door behind him. Impatient, Silver stood before Anderson's desk while the lawman took a seat behind it. Quickly, without revealing the nature of the conspiracy, Silver outlined the thing as best he could, stressing the need for entering the warehouse.

“I have the authority to get you in there,” Anderson said, “but then what? If there's no real evidence to back up your suspicions, there could be serious legal problems.”

“There could be,” said Silver, “and I'll take full responsibility.”

“I don't suppose you could telegraph Washington for authorization,” Anderson said.

“Why, hell no,” said Silver angrily. “Two men's lives are at stake, if they're not dead already. Now, for God's sake, will you get me into that building?”

Anderson sighed. “All right, if you're willing to take responsibility for anything that may go wrong.”

“I am,” Silver said, “and I'm sure enough of what I've told you that I'd like to take along some deputies.”

“I have three,” said Anderson. “Condon and Blake should be here in a few minutes, and I can ask Densmore to stay over.”

When Condon and Blake arrived, Anderson told them as much as he could about the proposed mission. When he had finished, he spoke to Silver.

“Is there anything you'd like to add?”

“Only that this could be extremely dangerous,” said Silver. “These men are killers, and they're involved in a conspiracy against the United States. Be sure your Winchesters are fully loaded, and don't hesitate to shoot, if you have to.”

They nodded. When the four lawmen had saddled their horses, they mounted and then followed Silver toward the distant bay.

Wes and El Lobo had wriggled about, feeling with numbed hands for wooden crates with rough edges or protruding nails.

“I've found a nail that wasn't driven all the way in,” Wes said. “Maybe I can loosen the knot enough to free my hands.”

“Bueno,” said El Lobo. “Rope tight.”

Wes worked frantically, for the longer he remained bound, the less feeling there was in his hands and wrists. Already they were numb and clumsy, and his task was becoming all the more difficult. There was no doubt in his mind that the ship would sail at dawn, taking with it any and all hope for their survival. Somewhere within the vessel, a bell rang five times.

“What that mean?” El Lobo asked.

“Five o‘clock,” said Wes. “First light's not more than an hour away.”

 

The rain had ceased. Empty stood on the dock facing the bay, his eyes on the dark bulk of the sailing ship, for it was to there that Wes and El Lobo had been taken. Clouds had been swept away, and a few stars twinkled in the predawn darkness. Somewhere an awakening bird chirped. Finally, in loneliness and frustration, Empty lifted his head to the heavens, howling low and mournfully....

 

“My hands are free,” said Wes. “Let me get some feeling back into them, and I'll free you.”

“Bueno,”
El Lobo said. “We escape.”

“We must get that hatch open and get somebody down here without them knowing our hands and feet are free,” said Wes.

“Sí,”
El Lobo agreed. “Fire, per‘ap?”

“You're readin' my mind,” said Wes. “I still have matches in my boot. All we need is something that will burn, stirrin' up plenty of smoke.”

“If
hombres
no come, we be in trouble,” El Lobo said.

“From the smoke, as well as the fire,” said Wes, “but it's a gamble we must take. I'll burn this thing down to the waterline, with us in it before I'd risk going to sea with this Antonio Diaz.”

When Wes had freed El Lobo and their numbed hands and feet permitted, they began searching in the darkness for something that would burn. Most of the shipping crates had been constructed of pine, for the wood was soft and easy to work with. Splinters had split off, and Wes lighted one of them so that they might study their surroundings. Sometime in the past, crates had been broken, and the remains had simply been shoved aside.

“Bueno,”
El Lobo said, getting his hands on some of the splintered pine. “It bum.”

“Take a pile of it beneath the steps, under the hatch,” said Wes. “We have to be sure that smoke will rise where it'll be seen before we choke.”

El Lobo heaped the resinous wood beneath the narrow stairs, where any flames wouldn't be readily obvious. Wes had lighted several more splinters from the first one and quickly used them to ignite the pile of wood.

“Now,” Wes said, “all we have to do is stay out of sight until somebody sees the smoke and comes to investigate. If the man on watch comes alone, we're in luck. But if our luck turns sour, and he sounds the alarm first, we may be up against the whole damn crew, including Antonio himself.”

“We no fight,” said El Lobo. “We escape.”

“Bein' unarmed, our only hope is to escape,” Wes said. “We'll go over the side at the closest point and swim like hell for shore. Let's just hope none of these varmints are armed with Winchesters. They can pick us off in the water.”

 

 

Otis Belton and Abel Wilks, along with four armed men who had escorted Wes and El Lobo to the ship, had remained at their headquarters the rest of the night. It was a practice Belton demanded, until he knew the ship was safely out of harbor and bound for the open sea. The men were restless, wanting rest and food.

“Antonio should be hoisting anchor by now,” Wilks said. “Suppose I go look?”

“Suppose you sit down and shut the hell up,” said Belton. “The last thing we need is unwanted attention, and the quickest way to attract it is to be out there at dawn, gawking at a ship. We'll give it another two hours. Then all of you can go.”

 

Silver and the four lawmen rode south, following the avenue along the bay. None of the saloons had opened, for it was still early. Incoming ships were already being unloaded at some of the piers, but these were soon left behind. On the distant pier where Empty had last seen Wes and El Lobo, the hound waited, watching the five riders approach. Then with a bark of recognition, he ran to meet them. Silver reined up and leaped from his saddle.

“It's only a dog,” said Deputy Marshal Blake.

“Not just a dog,” Silver replied. “He belongs to one of the two men I'm looking for.”

Barking excitedly, Empty came no closer. Instead, he trotted back the way he had come. He paused, looking back, barked once, and trotted on.

“He wants us to follow,” said Silver, mounting his horse.

The five riders followed in silence, reining up near the pier where Empty had faithfully kept watch. Nothing was in sight except the vessel flying Mexican colors. Empty continued barking, his eyes on the distant ship.

“By God,” Silver all but shouted, “my men are being held captive on that ship!”

“That's out of our jurisdiction,” said Anderson. “Besides, they're hoisting anchor.”

“Damn your jurisdiction,” Silver said. “I'll go after them myself.”

“I don't think so,” said Anderson. “That's a commercial vessel, and there's no way you can board and search it without due process of law.”

Before Silver could respond, circumstances changed rapidly. In the early-morning stillness there were three gunshots aboard the distant vessel.