Ralph Compton Whiskey River (10 page)

Despite a night and most of a day of rain, the empty wagons were no trouble. The outfit made camp one day away from their rendezvous point beyond Fort Smith. Wilder made no secret of his dislike for Mark Rogers, but nobody seemed to take him seriously. At night, his wagon empty, a teamster generally slept in or under it. Since Betsy was with Bill, and Mark with Amanda, they chose to tie the canvas puckers at front and back and spend their nights in the wagons. It afforded some privacy, while providing endless material for crude jokes among the other men. Amanda and Mark sat within their wagon, while behind them, Betsy and Bill occupied the second wagon.

“While I appreciate the wagon,” Amanda said, “I can't imagine why Estrello's allowing us to use it. He never allowed Jake or anybody else to sleep in the wagons, even when there was room.”

“I can,” said Mark. “Estrello's being forced to change some of his habits. Bill and me have created some trouble for him because we ruined his plans for you and Betsy, and he's not sure where we're going to stand when the showdown comes.”

“Lord, I wish this was all over and we could just ride back to Texas,” Amanda said.

“So do I,” said Mark, “but the worst is yet to come. Rough as it may be, we have to give thanks to the Almighty. There's a small chance that some of us will be able to redeem ourselves. Sooner or later, a man ridin' the owlhoot trail will forget for just a little while who and where he is. Just long enough for somebody to pull a gun maybe half a second quicker.”

Amanda shuddered and moved closer to him. She tried changing the subject. “If I tell you something about me, will you promise not to laugh?”

“Things being the way they are, I think I can safely promise that,” said Mark.

“Ever since you and Bill rescued Betsy and me,” Amanda said, “I find myself believing the story you told Estrello—that Betsy and me were promised to you and Bill five years ago, that you've come to hold us to that promise.”

“We have,” Mark said.

It was pitch dark within the wagon. She couldn't see his face, and there wasn't a hint of humor in his voice that might have branded the whole thing a joke.

“You . . . have?” Amanda asked.

“Of course we have,” said Mark. “We've told you that. I think there's a destiny laid out by the Almighty for every man choosing to try and follow the straight and narrow. I believe our destiny—mine and Bill's—includes you and Betsy. Is that good enough for you?”

She crept closer and responded with a kiss.

“That answers a lot of questions,” Mark said. “I just wish you and Betsy had somethin' to wear under your shirts. Way it is now, when you . . . ah . . . jiggle about, it could send a man's mind gallopin' down the wrong trail.”

She laughed. “Would one of those minds belong to you, and another to Bill Harder?”

“Damn,” he said, “I always take everything one step too far.”

 

In the second wagon, conversation lagged. Betsy and Bill had discussed their situation and their chances of survival until they were just plain weary.

“God,” said Betsy. “I'm so tired of this wagon, I could get out and start walking.”

“I'm of about the same mood,” Bill Harder said. “I feel like somebody took a single tree and just beat hell out of my back and shoulders. There's some fool people around who thinks all a teamster has to do is set on his behind and signal the teams when to stop and go.”

“What else
does
a teamster do?” she asked, apparently deadly serious.

“This,” said Bill. Hanging her belly-down over the wagon seat, he proceeded to wallop her behind. When he turned her loose, she sat up with a giggle.

“Damn you, Bill Harder, before I stand before a preacher with you, I aim to have me some canvas underpants, some pantaloons, a girdle—”

“All that stuff's against the law in Texas,” said Bill. “If a man has to fight his way over a desert populated with grizzly bears and rattlesnakes, the trip had damned well better be worth it. I think that was in Sam Houston's platform when he ran for governor.”

She laughed. “Am I worth a desert full of grizzly bears and rattlesnakes?”

“One or the other,” said Bill. “Not both.”

“Amanda and Mark are sitting in that wagon in the dark,” Betsy said. “What do you think they're doing?”

“How the hell should I know?” Bill demanded. “Why don't you ask Amanda?”

“You don't have to get miffed,” said Betsy. “It just seems like . . . with us planning to go before the preacher ... that we . . .”

“Ought to be doing considerably more than settin' here holdin' hands,” Bill finished.

“All right,” she snapped, “but if the time ever comes, you'll have some idea as to where to start, won't you?”

He couldn't see her face, but he seized her shoulders and drew her so close their noses were touching. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

“I reckon you're entitled to your opinion, but in the part of Texas I call home, a man don't sample a woman's favors until a preacher's read from the book. Not unless he's in a whorehouse and paying.
Comprende
?”

“Yes,” she said angrily, drawing away from him. “I'll be twenty-four years old in October, and I'm . . . I'm . . .”

“Unused and unspoiled,” said Bill. “You can last a few more days. One way or another, we'll be free of this outfit.”

“Being dead is a kind of freedom,” she said sarcastically.

“That's gospel,” said Bill, “but whatever happens, you and Amanda won't be any worse off than if Mark and me hadn't come to rescue you. Would you rather wait a little longer for me, or share a bed with Estrello and Amanda?”

“That's the trouble with damn Texas men,” she said, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “They have answers to everything, and they're always right.”

 

The following day they circled wide, avoiding Fort Smith. Half a dozen miles east of town, they unharnessed the teams. Sundown was an hour away.

“The four boats will be here sometime tonight,” Keithley said when he had a chance to talk to Mark.

“It ought to be interesting,” said Mark. “Have you come up with any reason why he's taking the entire outfit to St. Louis this time?”

“No,” Keithley said. “He's never done this before. It's almost like he's building up to a big showdown of some kind. A fight that could get some of us killed.”

 

After supper Estrello sought out his first and second in command, Drew Wilder and the Spaniard, Alonzo Bideno. Wilder, still barely on speaking terms with Estrello, said not a word. When Estrello spoke, he tried to seem as jovial as possible.

“
Amigos
, I suppose you are wondering why this journey is different from the others.”

“I personally don't give a damn,” said Wilder. “This is my last run. Then you can take this first in command thing and stuff it where the sun don't shine.”

“Ah,” Estrello said, his voice cold, “a grudge is the hardest load with which a man can burden himself. What are your feelings, Alonzo?”

“That we are pushing our luck,
señor,
” said Bideno. “They tell us our price be going up this time. Our shares are already small. Now they threaten to become smaller, with as much or more opportunity for an
hombre
to die with his
pistola
in his hand.”

“Suppose I told you this is the last run, and that it will cost us nothing?” Estrello asked. “The war's over, and there's talk in Congress of sending the military to clean up Indian Territory. If and when that happens, I don't aim to be here.”

“So you aim to take them wagonloads of whiskey without paying,” said Wilder. “That's why you brought every man of us. We're gonna have to shoot our way out of a damn double cross, with all that whiskey to slow us down.”

“You're forgetting something,” Estrello said. “The whiskey will be brought to the usual landing south of St. Louis, and we have more than thirty men.”

“Last time, we had to pay before they'd allow us to go aboard,” said Wilder. “You got any ideas it'll be better this time?”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” Estrello said. “I will cheerfully pay them whatever they ask. Whatever it takes to get possession of the whiskey, because we'll be reclaiming all that we've paid them.”

Wilder laughed. It was the lowdown kind of double cross he appreciated.

“We must get some men aboard each of the boats, then,” said Bideno.

“We'll have men aboard as usual,” Estrello said. “At least enough to silence each of the four-man crew aboard the vessel.”

“Those aboard must die, then,” said Bideno. “Who will man the boats?”

“Use your head,” Estrello said. “Nobody dies until the wagons leave the boats at the Fort Smith landing. Until then, every ship's crew will be under the gun.”

“That might work,” Wilder said grudgingly. “There ain't a man among us sharp enough to pilot one of them boats from St. Louis to Fort Smith.”

“When the boats reach the landing here at Fort Smith, sixteen men must die,” Bideno said. “That part I do not like,
señor.
”

“What the hell would you have us do, Bideno?” Wilder shouted. “Maybe we can just take the whiskey and send them all back to St. Louis, so they can get the law after us that much sooner.”

“That's enough, Wilder,” said Estrello angrily. “I understand Bideno's objection. In our business, it is necessary to kill a man occasionally, but what we're considering now is premeditated murder. A massacre. Unfortunately, there is no other way.”

“When we have done the killing and taken the whiskey, let us anchor the boats somewhere,” Bideno said. “It is better than setting them adrift, as derelicts.”

“You're right about that,” said Estrello. “The first steamer up the Arkansas bound for Fort Smith will report the killings. We'd better be long gone by then.”

“Since you aim to take the whiskey without paying,” Wilder said, “that means extra money in our pockets. How much are we talkin' about?”

“I'm not sure,” said Estrello cautiously.

“When you
are
sure,” Wilder said, “tell me. Then I'll decide if a shootin' showdown's worth it.”

“Like hell,” said Estrello. “You're either in or you're out, Wilder. There'll be no last-minute decisions. If you're with me, I want a commitment now. If you're not, then I want you to saddle up and ride. You're not welcome here.”

“By God, you're a caution,” Wilder said. “You've just told me you aim to murder the steamboat captains and firemen, and you're offerin'
me
the chance to just ride out? I think I'll stick around and collect my share of the money.”

Estrello laughed. “A wise move, Wilder. You've already done enough killing to face the rope ten times over. I'm sure the law would like to get its hand on you.”

“I'm sure that some back-shootin' son-of-a-bitch would turn me in,” Wilder said, “if he can do it without risking his own hide.”

“
Señor
Estrello, you must tell the others,” said Bideno. “When?”

“Tonight,” Estrello said. “You think I trust you and Wilder to keep your mouths shut until some better time?”

Bideno laughed. “Ah,
señor,
is it not a joy to be among
amigos
who are predictable?”

 

The fire had burned down to a bed of coals when Estrello called a meeting. He spoke for only a few minutes before it all erupted into a storm of shouting and cursing. Estrello drew his Colt, and two blasts from it silenced them.

“Now I'll answer any legitimate question,” said Estrello, “except for the money, I think we'll just have to wait and see how it works out. All of you know what has to be done. I think we'll cut the cards. Those with low numbers will become our executioners.”

“My God,” Betsy whispered fearfully, “suppose you or Mark draws a low card?”

“We'll face that if and when it happens,” said Mark, “but I can promise you that we'll not take part in these planned murders.”

Estrello had produced a new deck of cards and proceeded to shuffle. Each man took a card on the draw. Estrello then began calling names, and each man responded with the card he had drawn. Men drawing the eight lowest cards were Irvin, Jabez, Shadley, Worsham, Jackman, DeWitt, Graves, and McLean. There would be other outlaws aboard, but these eight were the executioners.

“That's how it stands then,” Estrello said. “Any one of you that ain't got the sand for this piece of gun work, let me hear from you now.”

Nobody spoke, and Estrello nodded in satisfaction. It had gone smoother than he had expected.

Mark and Bill returned to their wagons.

“I'm glad neither of you drew a low card,” said Amanda.

“There was some deck-stackin' goin' on,” Bill said. “Nobody drew low cards except the men who are solid behind Estrello. I get the feeling that there's some of us old Wolf just don't trust.”

“I've had that same feeling for a while, myself,” said Mark, “and I don't think you've taken it quite far enough. We've just heard Estrello choose eight killers to eliminate the steamboat crews. What's to stop him from choosing another bunch to rid himself of some of the rest of us he's not especially fond of?”

“I don't like to think about that,” Bill said, “but it's a possibility we'll have to face. If there are fewer men to claim the money, each share increases. Keithley's with us on the second watch. Let's see how he feels.”