Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles (28 page)

BOOK: Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles
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“Like hell,” said Pike. “You got no proof.”
“Lock him up, Tom,” Silver said. “Tomorrow he's going to talk. I'll have someone here in the morning who'll be almighty interested in what he has to say.”
Leaving the sheriff's office, Silver again rode south, but avoided the well-lighted avenue along the bay. Once he believed he was well past the mysterious warehouse, he rode toward the bay. Reaching it, he turned north, keeping to the shadows until he could see the pale outline of the warehouse ahead. He circled around, leaving his horse well beyond the drainage ditch into which Wes and El Lobo had taken cover. He crossed the ditch at a shallow place, making his way toward the silent structure ahead, expecting gunfire at any moment. But there was no gunfire, nor was there any evidence that hidden riflemen waited to cut him down.
Ignoring the doors, Silver crept along the side of the building until he reached one of the barred windows. It was over his head. Taking a risk, he reached up and took hold of two of the bars, hoisting himself up. But he could see only his dim reflection in the glass, and he dropped to the ground. Mystified, he returned the way he had come, pausing at the drainage ditch to look back at the silent structure. Crossing the ditch, he returned to his horse.
“Damn it, horse,” said Silver aloud, “they must have cleared out.”
Silver stabled the horse and returned to his hotel. He still had Pike behind bars, and if he could be made to talk, there would be sufficient evidence to warrant having the U.S. marshal force entry into the warehouse.
 
“I reckoned we could have breakfast,” said Silver the following morning, as he entered Sheriff Rigger's office.
“I got some news that ain't likely to improve your appetite,” Rigger said. “Pike's dead. Sometime durin' the night, somebody drilled him twice.”
“No clues, I reckon,” said Silver grimly.
“None,” Rigger said. “The jailer sleeps on a cot here in the office. He heard the shots, and by the time he got a gun and went outside, there was nobody in sight.”
“Damn,” said Silver, “I'm back where I started. I approached that place last night, and there was no sign of life, no gunfire.”
“After that scare a couple of nights ago, they might have pulled out,” Rigger said. “I'd say that's to be expected, if what they're doin' is illegal.”
Silver sighed. “I reckon you're right. I had hoped to get evidence enough to justify bringing in the U.S. marshal, but any chance of that died with Pike.”
“While it ain't enough to convince the marshal,” said Rigger, “somebody was almighty afraid Pike would talk. To me, that means you're on the trail of somethin' big.”
“You're right,” Silver agreed, “but nobody will buy that without proof.”
“Am I allowed to ask where you're goin' from here?” Rigger asked.
“You can ask,” said Silver, “but I can't tell you. I honestly don't know.”
San Francisco, California February 12, 1885.
Two days after their arrival at the McCall place, and following a second visit by the doctor, Wes and El Lobo were conscious and able to eat.
“I know you can't tell me what you're involved in,” McCall said, “but you must have a powerful enemy. Has anything been resolved, or is there a chance of this happening all over again?”
“There's a chance it could happen all over again,” said Wes, “which is all the more reason for us to distance ourselves from you and Amanda. The two of you might well be murdered just because you took us in.”
“My God,” Amanda said, “why must you put yourselves in such a position? Can't you just ride away where you can't be found?”
“I reckon we could,” said Wes, “but it would mean breaking our word.”

Sí
,” El Lobo said, “and we no do that.”
“I reckon I understand,” said McCall. “But I wish there was some other way. You're our friends, too, and we believe you deserve better than being gunned down.”
“We're obliged for your concern,” Wes said. “Someday when we've done what we set out to do—when there's no danger to you—we'll be seeing you again. Until then, we'll have to leave you just as soon as we're able. As long as we're here, and maybe even after we're gone, we're a threat to you.”
“Whatever the risk, you're not leaving here until you're able,” said Amanda. “And when you go, if there's ever a way we can help you, don't hesitate to call on us.”
 
 
“We had another visitor last night,” Abel Wilks said, “but we let him nose around.”
“You did exactly right,” Otis Belton said. “With Pike out of the way, there's no legal way they can get to us.”
“Maybe not,” said Wilks, “but I'd feel better if we left here and set up at some other place. They trailed Landry and captured Pike. Next time they take one of us they won't risk an open cell. There ain't a man that won't talk, to save his own hide.”
“Maybe you're right,” Belton said, “but we won't be leaving here just yet. We're still three days away from the arrival of the ship, and we'll need a dark, moonless night for the loading. While we're waiting, we'll set a trap for those who are hell-bent on breaking in here.”
“Yeah?” said Wilks. “How?”
“Obviously we can't make it too easy for them,” Belton said, “so that eliminates the doors and windows. But a man that's handy with a rope can drop a loop over the chimney and reach the roof. Starting tonight, I think we'll leave the skylight unlatched, and I want four men on watch in here.”
“Trap them, and then gun them down,” said Wilks.
“Certainly not,” Belton said. “They've proven themselves hard to kill, and given even half a chance they might kill all of you and escape. I want any man or men entering this building taken alive. Like you said, there's not a man alive who won't talk to save his own hide.”
“And when you're done with them?”
“They will be disposed of in a manner more permanent than simply shooting them,” said Belton. “I want those armed men here tonight and every night, until we move out.”
 
 
The following evening, near dusk, Bryan Silver again rode down the avenue along the bay. Several times he reined up, listening, but the pursuit he had hoped for wasn't there. He heard only the chirp of crickets and the occasional sleepy cry of a night bird. Riding on, he reached the warehouse he had visited the night before. Again he left his horse well beyond the drainage ditch, approaching the place from the rear, on foot. It was as dark and forbidding as ever, without a sign of life. He had no doubt that anyone inside would see him approaching. Well out of rifle range, he turned back. Mounting his horse, he rode in a circle that would bring him around on the north side of the building. There, bushes and trees had grown up close to the wall, and Silver urged his horse as near one of the barred windows as possible. He wasn't close enough for his image in the glass to betray him, and he waited, watching. Suddenly, within the dark interior, there was a dull glow, as someone drew on a cigarette. A moment later, the glow was repeated, and Silver knew for a certainty what he had only suspected. A deadly ambush awaited anyone seeking to enter. Quietly, Silver rode away, in a quandary as to how he might contact Wes and El Lobo....
San Francisco, California. February 15, 1985
.
“Neither of you are well enough to be on your feet,” Amanda McCall protested.
“You and Jim are in danger for as long as we remain here,” said Wes. “Tonight we'll be leaving you.”
“Danger or not,” Amanda protested, “Jim won't approve of that. We owe both of you a debt we can never repay.”
“You've more than repaid us,” said Wes, “and we don't aim to show our gratitude by getting either or both of you killed. We're facing an enemy who would murder you even after we're gone, just because you helped us.”
Amanda said no more, but when Jim McCall returned, he took up the argument against Wes and El Lobo leaving.
“Your wounds still have some healing to do,” McCall said.
“They've healed enough for us to be on our way,” said Wes. “We're obliged to both of you, and we'll be seein' you again at some better time.”
“Wherever you must go, I can take you there in the wagon,” McCall said.
“No,” said Wes. “We have a place along the bay, and our horses are stabled close by. We can travel that far afoot.”
Under cover of darkness, Wes and El Lobo reached their small cabin on which the rent had been paid in advance. While Amanda McCall had washed and ironed their clothing, they felt the need to change. They also greased their boots, after cleaning and oiling their Colts.
“We go back to be shot again?” El Lobo inquired.
“No,” said Wes. “I reckon there's evidence enough in that warehouse to really cook the Dragon's goose, but us gettin' shot dead won't accomplish a thing. Maybe if everything else fails, we'll try again to break in there, but we'd better let these wounds heal before we risk any new ones. We have one thing in our favor, and that's that the varmints we're lookin' for don't know us by sight. Since we found Landry in a saloon, maybe we can find another of the Dragon's bunch the same way.”

Sí
,” El Lobo said. “We follow him to same place?”
“No,” said Wes. “If we're lucky enough to find another of them, I think we'll capture him. We need somebody that's willing to talk. With enough evidence, the law can force its way into that warehouse. Tonight and tomorrow, we'll rest. Tomorrow night we'll try the saloons again.”
 
Bryan Silver, frustrated, began making the rounds of saloons and gambling houses in the hope of finding some trace of Wes and El Lobo. He sat with his back to the wall, a beer on the table before him, and tiring of that, took an occasional hand in a poker game. Having accomplished nothing, he departed at midnight, returning to his hotel. The next morning he called on Sheriff Rigger, and the lawman joined him for breakfast.
“As you might expect,” Rigger said, “I don't have a clue as to who gunned down Pike in his cell. Somebody wanted to be sure he didn't talk.”
Silver sighed. “I must be gettin' old, Tom. The time was when I would have expected that very thing, and would have taken steps to prevent it. This bunch I'm after is the kind to kill within its own ranks, when one of them ends up in a vulnerable situation.”
“Sorry I didn't consider that possibility,” Rigger said, “but I didn't know just how deep this thing went. You still don't have any word on your men that you think are here?”
“Nothing,” said Silver. “For all I know, with all that shooting, they may be dead.”
“Or maybe wounded and captured,” Rigger said.
“If they were captured, they're dead,” said Silver. “The only hope is that if they were wounded, they might have escaped.”
“If they're alive,” Rigger said, “you ain't expectin' them to go back to that place, are you? With barred windows and gun holes, it's a fort.”
“No,” said Silver, “they're smart enough not to walk into such an ambush, when they have reason to suspect it's there. They must have been caught off guard the first time, because they had no reason to believe they were expected.”
“That tells me that Belton keeps armed guards in there every night,” Sheriff Rigger said.
“You're dead right,” said Silver. “I've been there twice, after dark, and both times the place was silent as a graveyard. The last time I rode close enough to look through one of the windows, and I could see the glow of a cigarette.”
“Whatever they're up to,” Rigger said, “there must be some movement in and out of there sometime or the other. Suppose you had men watchin' the place?”
“I'm considering that,” said Silver, “but there's not much cover. Best I could hope for would be the possibility of trailing and capturing one of them. Pike obviously was waiting in one of the saloons and cafés, and followed me from there. I expect there are others who are prepared to trail anybody looking suspicious.”
“I don't know enough about your problem to be of any help,” Rigger said. “Do these people have any reason to rely on the sailing ships in or out of San Francisco?”
“Funny you should mention that,” said Silver. “I believe the ships and the nearness of the ocean have a lot to do with them being here.”
“Then maybe I can be of some help to you,” Sheriff Rigger said, “if you can use some advice. You have connections in Washington. Why don't you have the navy anchor a ship in the bay, and set up a watch from there?”
“I reckon that would be a little obvious,” said Silver, “since the varmints I'm after are guilty of a crime against the United States. But the idea might be useful. The ship couldn't be a naval vessel without arousing suspicion, but a ship without markings might be just what it will take.”
“I can help you round up some men, if you need ‘em,” Rigger said.
“Thanks,” said Silver, “but if I have enough clout to requisition an unmarked ship, I'll be able to man it. Where's the nearest telegraph office?”
“Let me saddle my horse, and I'll show you,” Sheriff Rigger said. “Afterward, we can have breakfast.”
“Bueno,” said Silver. “I've just regained my appetite.”
 
The night after Wes and El Lobo had left the McCall place, they again made their way to the saloon where they had first seen Landry. They each ordered a beer, choosing a table from which they could view the rest of the saloon and all who entered.

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