Ralph Compton Train to Durango (6 page)

“Maybe,” Silver said. “They tried to dry-gulch us on the train, and that tells me they don't intend to forgive and forget. I'd bet the farm that if we don't make any immediate moves, they'll come after us here. With that in mind, there's something I must ask of you.”

Hagerman nodded, and Silver told him of the need to know the content of telegrams sent to or from Dodge.

“You know the law,” said Hagerman, “so I won't lecture you on the legality of what you are suggesting.”

“I'm obliged,” Silver said. “Legal or not, it's a necessary move, and the responsibility is mine. Naturally we'll keep it as quiet as we can.”

There was a thump of hooves, and a rider reined up outside. The sheriff had arrived.

“Sheriff Jack Dumery,” said Hagerman, when the lawman entered the office.

As Hagerman introduced Silver, Wes, and El Lobo, Dumery extended his hand to each of them. When introduced to Renita and Tamara, he tipped his hat, his eyes lingering on their belted Colts. Silver handed Dumery his credentials, and after looking at them briefly, the sheriff returned them.

“Talk,” Dumery said, his eyes on Silver.

“Scrape the surface of them with your knife,” said Silver, handing Dumery several of the Golden Dragon double eagles.

Dumery scraped away the thin coating of gold from one of the coins. He dropped the second coin on the floor, retrieved it, and scraped its surface with his knife.

“My God,” Dumery said, “they look and sound real. I reckon there's lots more.”

“Untold millions of dollars worth,” said Silver. “Now listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you.”

Silver spoke for half an hour, and had barely finished when there was a knock on the door. It was the locomotive's engineer.

“I hope you wired the Kansas City dispatcher,” said the engineer. “Otherwise, we'll be meetin' the westbound train head-on.”

“I wired them, first thing,” Hagerman said. “They'll be waiting for you on the siding at Wichita. Sheriff, if you need a statement from anyone on the train, you'd better get it. They must be on their way.”

“I can't see that I'll need any statements,” said the sheriff. “It all took place outside my jurisdiction, and Mr. Silver, a federal lawman, was there. Send them on their way.”

“You heard him,” Hagerman said. “You're free to go.”

The engineer nodded, closing the door.

“Mr. Silver,” said Sheriff Dumery, “I can appreciate your position, and I don't envy you. If I were to deputize every available man in town, I'm not sure I could protect any of you against such odds. What would you have me do?”

“Nothing,” Silver said. “We have no idea from what direction the next attack is likely to come. You've been brought into this because you represent the law on a local level. I'm telling you here and now that we intend to protect ourselves, and if they shoot at us, we intend to return the fire. You could end up with some dead men on your hands, and if you do, then we don't want any misunderstanding. It's a favorite tactic of this bunch to force a man to fight for his life, and then leave him in a bad position with local lawmen.”

“You'll find yourselves at no such disadvantage with me,” Dumery said, “and I'm much obliged for your having explained the situation. The jail's at your disposal, and I'll help you in any way that I can. It's not often a small-town sheriff has the privilege of working with a federal man.”

“We're obliged, Sheriff,” said Silver. “We'll be staying at the Dodge House for a while, should you need to reach us.”

Sheriff Dumery departed, closing the door behind him.

“You handled that well,” Hagerman said. “What's next?”

“I want you to review any telegrams sent today,” said Silver. “If these outlaws have a contact here, he'll be telegraphing Denver. The message would have been sent after we got off the train, probably while we've been here in your office.”

“I'll talk to the telegrapher,” Hagerman said.

He returned almost immediately. The yellow slip of paper in his hand brought a look of amazement to his face.

“You called it perfectly,” said Hagerman, passing the message to Silver.

Silver read it quickly and passed it to his companions. Unsigned, it was addressed to Franks, in Denver, and consisted of a single word: Dodge.

“The telegrapher said a courier from the Dodge House brought the message and paid for the telegram,” Hagerman said.

“That figures,” said Silver. “The varmint wouldn't want to be seen near the depot while we're here. It'll be more difficult identifying him.”

“Maybe you shouldn't be in any hurry to identify him,” Hagerman said. “He may send or receive other messages if he thinks he hasn't been detected.”

“My God, yes,” said Harley. “If they communicate by telegraph, you may know ahead of time what they're planning to do.”

“Maybe,” Silver said, “but I doubt there'll be any more telegrams sent from here or any answer from Denver. They know we're here. All we're likely to learn is the name of the
hombre
who received this message in Denver, and that may not be his real name.”

“Let's get settled in at the Dodge House,” said Wes. “I reckon we'll know soon enough what they intend to do next.”

“I'll let you know if any more telegrams are sent to or received from Denver,” Foster Hagerman said.

“I'll go with you to the Dodge House,” said Harley. “I'll be in town for the next two days.”

Silver, Wes, and El Lobo were able to get three adjoining rooms on the first floor, just across the hall from Harley's room.

“Let's take a rest until suppertime,” Silver suggested.

Harley laughed. “You'd better rest while you can. The stage from Santa Fe will be here tomorrow.”

Closing the door and locking it behind him, Wes hung his hat and gunbelts on a bedpost. He then sat down on the bed, tugging off his boots. Renita stood watching him.

“Well,” said Wes, “aren't you going to join me?”

“I don't have anything to wear that's nice enough for me to stand before a preacher,” Renita said.

“You can buy some new clothes,” said Wes, “but you don't have to have them now, do you?”

“No,” Renita said, “but when?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” said Wes. “Tamara and Molly may want to go with you.”

“And you don't,” Renita said.

“No,” said Wes. “I don't. I'd feel like a bull in a sheep corral, surrounded by all that female finery. I'll see it when you're wearin' it.”

“So you'd leave me at the mercy of those outlaws? I wonder if Silver and El Lobo will feel that way about Molly and Tamara.”

“Damn it, if that's what's bitin' you, I'll go with you,” Wes said. “Now let's rest.”

Removing only her hat and gunbelt, she stretched out on the bed beside him. But she was restless, and when Wes opened his eyes, she was looking at him.

“I'm afraid,” she said.

“So am I,” said Wes, “but you must learn to face your fears one at a time, as they become real. Hell, if I let everything that's botherin' me jump on me at one time, I reckon I'd dig me a hole, crawl in, and pull it all in over me.”

She laughed nervously. “I am taking one thing at a time. On the train, I was facing the door, just as Tamara was, but I didn't see the gunman. I'm afraid I won't see him the next time, either.”

“There may not be a next time,” Wes said. “That was an unusual situation, and there's no way of knowing that Tamara could pull off the same thing twice. Neither of you was armed for such a shoot-out. But to defend yourselves against men like those who took you away in El Paso, just having a gun may be enough. You may never have to use it. Tamara didn't shoot the gunman on the train, but her shot startled him, and his went wild. It was enough to buy some time, until Silver, El Lob, Harley, and me could take a hand.”

“I didn't mean to burden you with my fears,” said Renita. “I just want to help you in your fight, and I'm just not sure I'm capable.”

“Put it out of your mind,” Wes said. “You don't know what you can do until you're in a position of have to.”

Empty growled, and suddenly there was a knock on the door. Wes came off the bed with a Colt in his hand. The knock came again, accompanied by a voice.

“It's Harley.”

Wes unlocked the door, opening it just enough for Harley to enter.

“I'm goin' back to the depot for a while,” Harley said. “You need anything while I'm out?”

“The westbound should be bringing newspapers,” said Wes. “Get me one of each.”

Wes let him out, locked the door behind him, and again stretched out on the bed. He had no idea how long he had slept when Empty awakened him with a growl.

“Your newspapers,” said Harley, outside the door.

Renita was awake, so Wes threw the newspapers on the bed. There was the current paper from Kansas City, with day-old editions from St. Louis, Cheyenne, and Denver.

“Take one of them and see if you can find anything of interest to us,” Wes said.

Wes had gone through the Kansas City paper and was almost through with the St. Louis edition when Renita spoke.

“Here's something.”

There were only six lines. A man had been stabbed to death near the Plains Hotel in Cheyenne. The motive was unknown, for his wallet, with money and identification, had not been taken. His name was Rance Stringfield, and his last known address had been Denver.

“That confirms what we suspected,” said Wes. “The bastards don't always pay off in counterfeit double eagles.”

Wes tore out the brief article, and at suppertime allowed his companions to read it.

“Not in the least surprising,” Silver said. “That's why we've had such a hell of a time tracking them down. By the time we have word of a possible witness, he's already dead.”

Foster Hagerman joined them for supper, and Wes passed him the article from the Cheyenne newspaper.

“That won't mean much,” said Wes, “until you know a little about Stringfield.”

Wes looked at Silver, and Silver nodded. Wes then told Hagerman of the attempted ambush Stringfield had arranged, using Renita and Tamara as bait.

“They are ruthless, then,” Hagerman said.

“That, and worse,” said Wes. “That's why Renita and Tamara are here, and why Silver has Molly Horrel coming here.”

“I wish we could assure you they'll be safe here,” Hagerman said, “but the more I hear of this conspiracy, the less certain I am.”

“
Sí
,” said El Lobo. “We leave them here, go Dragon hunting. We be damn fools.”

“Let me remind you that you and Wes don't have to do any such thing,” Silver said.

“The hell we don't,” said Wes. “They don't aim to leave us be, whether we're looking for them or not. We've hurt them enough to get ourselves lined up against a wall and shot ten times over. We can save ourselves only by getting them before they get us.”

“You have given your word to
Señor
Silver,” Tamara said, her eyes on El Lobo. “You do not go back on your word, or I hate you.”

El Lobo laughed. “We kill bastardo Dragon before it kill us.”

Renita's face was pale, and it cost her, but she took her stand with Tamara.

“Wes will do what he feels he must do,” said Renita, “and I will stand beside him.”

With admiration in his eyes, Bryan Silver looked from one of them to the other. Molly Horrel would be arriving on tomorrow's stage from Santa Fe. He could only hope the girl would have the courage of these two who had already been to hell and back, and were more than willing to go again, if they had to.

Boulder, Colorado, March 29, 1885

Just minutes before the eastbound train would depart for Kansas City, Gandy Franks spoke to the baggage man who was loading sacks of mail.

“I didn't get this letter posted in time, and it must reach Kansas City today.”

“That ain't my responsibility,” said the baggage man. “I just load and unload sacks of mail.”

“I realize that,” Franks said. “I'm making it worth your while.”

With the sealed envelope, he handed the baggage man a double eagle.

“There's nothin' on this envelope but a name,” said the baggage man. “I never heard of no Morton Tindall.”

“The name's all you'll need,” Franks said. “Just leave the letter with the telegrapher. I'll telegraph Tindall that it's coming, and he'll pick it up, just like a telegram.”

“If that's all I got to do, then I'll do it,” said the baggage man.

Franks quickly left the depot, satisfied that Drade Hogan could find no fault with his handling of the situation in Dodge. He had dared not telegraph Gannon in Dodge, for he well knew that Wes Stone had friends there. His instructions to Tindall in Kansas City he was sending by letter, for its very nature forbade use of the telegraph. The letter itself could be deadly evidence if it fell into the wrong hands. Franks immediately sent a telegram to Tindall.

•   •   •

Morton Tindall was waiting when the eastbound train reached Kansas City, and he watched as the baggage man delivered the letter to the telegrapher. He waited a few minutes before going to the telegraph office to claim it. The unsigned letter was two pages long, and when Tindall had read it, he read it a second time. One paragraph stood out.

There is a reward of twenty-five thousand dollars on the heads of each of these three men: Bryan Silver, Wes Stone, and Palo Elfego.

Within the envelope was a second sealed envelope, and within it, drawn on a Kansas City bank, was a draft for fifty thousand dollars. With it was a note that read: Hire as many men as you must, for as long as may be necessary. You know the penalty for failure.

Tindall swallowed hard, again referring to information provided in the letter. Just how difficult could it be, killing three men in Dodge?

•   •   •

Dodge City, Kansas, March 29, 1885

The stage from Santa Fe arrived in the late afternoon. Molly Horrel was the last of the dusty, weary passengers to emerge.

“Molly,” said Silver, “this is Harley Stafford and Foster Hagerman. You remember the rest of this bunch, I reckon.”

“I feel like every bone is my body is broken, or at least fractured,” Molly said. “If I had it to do over, I think I'd just walk.”

She made it a point to go immediately to Renita and Tamara, for she hadn't seen them since they had been taken by the outlaws in El Paso.

“You and Tamara are wearing guns,” said Molly. “Are you still in danger?”

“Yes,” Renita said, “and so are you. Silver has a lot to tell you.”

“She's right,” said Silver. “The situation is far more dangerous than when I sent for you to join me here. Let's get back to the Dodge House, where we can talk.”

“I need a bath,” Molly said. “I have dust in places I can't talk about.”

“We'll join the rest of you for supper,” said Silver.

When they reached the Dodge House, Silver arranged for a tub and bathwater to be brought to his room. Harley had returned to the depot with Foster Hagerman, leaving El Lobo, Wes, Renita, and Tamara on their own.

“The Dodge House is nice,” Renita said, “but can't we do something between now and supper besides sleep?”

El Lobo laughed.

“She does not mean that,” Tamara said, glaring at him.

“I am in need of some new clothes,” said Renita. “Can we afford them?”

“I reckon,” Wes said.

“I need clothes, too,” said Tamara. “Palo do not notice if I am stark naked.”

“Come on, Palo,” Wes said. “Give her some money. If they're together, we won't have to wander around through all that female finery.”

“You wouldn't send us to town alone?” said Renita.

“No,” Wes said. “We'll be somewhere in the store. We just don't aim to get trapped in among the corsets and that other female stuff.”

Being a railroad town, and with Fort Dodge only eight miles distant, Dodge boasted a varied array of shops and stores. One of them had devoted an entire upper floor to female apparel. Wes and El Lobo occupied themselves on the first floor, admiring an assortment of new Winchester and Remington rifles in a gun rack. When a stranger stepped out from behind a display, Wes caught the movement off to the side. He whirled, a Colt cocked and in his hand. Though the stranger was armed he made no move toward his holstered weapon. He laughed.

“You're mighty sudden with that iron, and mighty jumpy.”

“I don't like
hombres
cat-footin' up behind me,” said Wes shortly. “What do you want of me?”

“Nothin', at the moment,” the stranger said. “You're Wes Stone, the gunslinger, ain't you?”

“I'm Wes Stone,” Wes said coldly. “Who are you?”

The stranger laughed again. “Nobody you'd know. I ain't famous like you.”

Hitching his thumbs in his gunbelt, he wandered away. Following a few paces behind, Wes followed, watching him out the front door.

“Malo?” El Lobo asked.

“Maybe,” said Wes. “While I was with the railroad, I made a name for myself with a gun. Now it looks like as long as I'm alive, I'll never overcome the need to prove myself.”

El Lobo said nothing. It was yet another danger for which Wes must be prepared. For the better part of two hours they waited, and when Renita and Tamara came down the stairs, they were radiant. Each wore a long dress.

“
Madre mia
,” El Lobo groaned. “It take so long just for one dress?”

“There are others,” said Tamara. “I can wear but one at a time.”

When the rest of their purchases were delivered to the cash register on the first floor, there was a formidable load.

“Tarnation,” Wes said, “we'll have to make three trips.”

“If it's not too far,” said the saleslady, “it can be delivered.”

“The Dodge House,” Wes said.

Wes and El Lobo paid the bill.

“I'm goin' out first,” said Wes, when they reached the door.

“I follow,” El Lobo said.

“It's daylight and we're in town,” said Renita. “What's wrong?”

“Maybe nothing,” Wes said. “Both of you stay inside for a minute.”

Half a block away, across the street, a man leaned against an awning post. Seeing Wes, he stepped off the boardwalk into the dusty street.

“You got a reputation, Stone. I want it.”

“I don't know you,” said Wes, “and I have nothing against you. I won't fight.”

“You got to,” the stranger said. “It's the way things is done.”

His sandy hair licked out from beneath his used-up old black hat, and he didn't look old enough to shave. His Levi's and denim shirt had seen many washings, and his rough-out boots were runover. Only his gunbelt and the Colt with the polished walnut grips looked new.

“That's far enough,” said Wes.

“Draw, damn you,” the kid shouted, his hand hovering near the butt of his Colt.

“No,” said Wes, his hands on his hips. “If there's a hand to be played out, the first draw is yours.”

The kid went for his gun, but just as his Colt cleared leather, a slug crashed into it. The weapon went flying, and the kid stood there, wringing his bloody hand. Wes Stone had already holstered his smoking Colt, and several who had witnessed the event hadn't seen him draw.

“Damn you,” the kid bawled, “you've shamed me. For God's sake, shoot me and put me out of my misery.”

“I'm not goin' to shoot you,” Wes said, “unless you come after me again. Then I'll kill you. Now vamoose.”

His young face filled with hate, he turned away, walking down the dusty street. Doors had suddenly opened, and men stood on the boardwalk. Reining up his horse, Sheriff Jack Dumery dismounted.

“He forced the fight, Sheriff,” said Wes. “I didn't want to fight him.”

“Curly Dismukes,” Sheriff Dumery said. “His daddy drank himself to death, and Curly wants almighty bad to be somebody. He thinks he can make a name for himself with a gun. You'd better be mighty careful.”

“I aim to,” said Wes. “He'll have a sore hand, and he's without a gun. Maybe that will be enough to change his mind.”

“I doubt it,” Dumery said. “Somebody will have to kill him. He's the kind who won't have it any other way.”

Renita and Tamara had left the store as soon as the echo of the shot had died away. Without a word, they followed Wes and El Lobo back to the Dodge House. Empty had been left in the room, and Wes let him out. El Lobo followed Tamara into their room and then locked the door behind them. Somewhere in the distance, the westbound train whistled for the stop in Dodge.

“What was the shooting about?” Renita asked, after Wes had locked their door.

“A kid looking for a reputation as a fast draw,” said Wes. “He knew me from my railroad days, I reckon.”

“He wasn't one of the outlaws, then.”

“No,” Wes said.

“It's worse than I thought,” said Renita. “Besides the outlaws, you could be shot by someone you don't even know.”

“A fast gun is a blessing and a curse,” Wes said. “It's a blessing because it can keep a man alive, but a curse because of his continual need to depend on it.”

“Don't send Tamara and me off alone anymore,” said Renita. “I have a gun, and if I have to watch your back to keep you alive, I will.”

In El Lobo's room, he had just endured a similar argument with Tamara.

“Do not send Renita and me away again,” Tamara said. “We have guns, and we will use them when we must.”

Silver had removed his boots, hat, and gunbelt, and had stretched out on the bed while Molly had lounged in the tub of hot, soapy water. He awoke to find her out of the tub, drying herself with a towel.

“This is the first time a man ever fell asleep while I was naked, taking a bath,” said Molly. “I must be losing it.”

Silver laughed. “So there have been other men.”

“I've lost count,” Molly said. “You want references?”

“I reckon not,” said Silver. “If you were good enough for Nathan Stone, then you're good enough for me.”

“If another man said that to me, I'd show him the door and give him hell,” Molly said.

“If I was fillin' anybody's boots but Nathan's, you wouldn't be here,” said Silver.

“Then I suppose I'd better not tell you about my days with King Fisher,” Molly said. “I'd never been with a man, when he took me to south Texas, promising to marry me. But he never gave up his drinking, gambling, and hell-raising.”
¹⁸

“So you left him and went to Nathan,” said Silver.

“I didn't go to Nathan in the way that you think,” Molly said. “I knew he was there in El Paso, but I went there because that's all the stage fare I had, not because I expected anything from him. He saw me get off the stage and took me to a cafe, where I ate like a pig. I was half starved and hadn't eaten for three days. Then he took me to the boardinghouse, and Granny Boudleaux made me welcome. After that, Nathan and me just seemed to come together. I felt guilty when I learned that Wes was Nathan's son. Wes had a very old photograph of his mother as a young girl. Her name was Molly, and I always believed I reminded Nathan of her. But he was a good man, a kind man, and he never seemed to feel bad toward me about my days with King Fisher.”

“Nor do I,” said Silver. “Not for those days with King Fisher, or for those days that followed, with Nathan. I didn't tell you in the letter I sent from Santa Fe, but this will be my last assignment. I'm resigning my position with the government and goin' back to good old Texas. I'm thinking of a horse ranch.”

She dropped the towel and threw herself on the bed beside him.

“I'm so glad,” Molly said. “I've been afraid for you, ever since you left El Paso.”

“I wish I could tell you that you no longer have to be afraid,” said Silver, “but there's some hard trails ahead. In Denver we bought three .31-caliber Colt revolvers, each with a gunbelt and a supply of ammunition. Renita and Tamara are armed, and I have one of the weapons for you.”

“Then I'll carry it and learn to use it,” Molly said. “Perhaps I can help you, where I was unable to help Nathan.”

“You'd better get dressed,” said Silver. “Wes and Palo will be ready to put on the feed bag pretty soon. Tomorrow we'll buy you some new clothes.”

Harley and Foster Hagerman were already at Delmonico's when Silver and his party arrived. When all the meals had been ordered, Harley produced a Kansas City newspaper.

“Anything in there of interest to us?” Wes asked.

“Yes,” said Harley, “but you won't like it. It's on the second page.”

Wes folded the paper and spread it on the table. He couldn't believe his eyes. In large bold type, the headline read: Wes Stone, noted gunfighter, returns to Dodge City.

“Who in tarnation is responsible for this?” Wes shouted.

Silver took the paper and began reading the article aloud. Whoever had written it went to great lengths reporting the various gunfights in which Wes had been forced to defend himself. There was some reference to the violent gunfight in El Paso, when Nathan Stone had died, and the bloody venture into old Mexico after the killers were referred to as a “murdering spree.” The devilish piece of journalism concluded by stating that Wes Stone had begun keeping company with an evil, bloodthirsty Indian.