Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles (4 page)

“But you did see him again,” said Wes.

“Yes,” Vivian said, “and sooner than I had expected. It was terrible, telling him about Barnabas and me. Nathan tried to make it easy on us, telling me there was another woman in El Paso.”
⁴

“There was,” said Wes. “He left her there for the same reason he left you with the McQueens. She blames me for my father's death.”

“Nathan never married, then.”

“No,” said Wes. “Molly said he never got over my mother, who died when I was born. She went to the grave hating him and denying me a chance to know him. So when he learned who I was ...”

“He tried to make it up to you,” Vivian said.

“Yes,” said Wes. “He gave me my life.”

“Knowing Nathan, he couldn't have done anything less,” Vivian said. “I'm glad we had this talk, Wes. Now I know it wasn't just me, but some kind of destiny, a call that only Nathan Stone could hear. I suppose I knew ... when he rode away from me and Barnabas, I'd never see him again.”

“Maybe there's something to this thing called destiny,” said Wes. “Life has a way of taking a man's measure, forcing him to ride long, hard trails likely not of his choosing.”

“I remember Nathan saying something very much like that,” Vivian said. “Whatever else Nathan was, he was a man of whom you can be proud. I hope the destiny that was prodding him won't lead you down the same deadly trails.“

She turned away without another word, and Wes stood looking into the churning water in the wake of the steamboat. He was still there when El Lobo joined him.

“Thanks for going with Barnabas,
amigo,”
said Wes. “I needed to talk to her.”

“He
bueno hombre,”
El Lobo said. “He invites us to his ranch.”

“But we can't go,” said Wes. “Not after last night. From what Silver told us, the Golden Dragon might murder the McQueens just to get at us.”

Wes didn't see the McQueens again until suppertime, when Barnabas repeated the invitation he had already extended to El Lobo.

“I wish we could,” Wes said, “but it might be dangerous for you. We made enemies in Mexico, and we believe some of them may have followed us.”

“I understand,” said McQueen. “Nathan had the same problem. I think that's what he feared most, that some of his friends would suffer at the hands of his enemies trying to get to him.”

 

The steamboat was still a day out of New Orleans when a steward reported the two men missing. Two hours before supper, there was a knock on the cabin door.

“Who is it?” Wes inquired.

“Captain Warner,” came the reply, “I must talk to you.”

Wes opened the door to a tall man dressed in blue and wearing spectacles. He came in, closed the door, and leaning against it, got right down to business.

“I find myself in the embarrassing position of having lost two passengers, apparently without a trace. They were registered as Kelso and Burke, and since their beds were never slept in, I must assume they left us sometime the night before last. One of the cooks reported he thought he heard shooting, and soon after observed the two of you on the forward deck.”

“That's true,” Wes said. “We heard shots too, and they seemed to come from somewhere onshore. We thought somebody was shooting at the boat, and we were headed for our quarters when we met the cook.”

“And you saw nobody else?”

“Nobody,” said Wes, hoping his lie was convincing. “I reckon you searched the cabin. Was there any evidence of a robbery?”

“None,” the captain replied. “In fact, there was several thousand dollars in gold among the belongings. I see both of you are armed. You won't mind if I examine your weapons?”

“Certainly not,” Wes said, extending his Colts butt-first.

The captain broke each weapon in turn, punched out the shells and reloaded it. He then repeated the procedure with El Lobo's Colts. When he spoke, there was just a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“I see no evidence that your weapons have been fired recently. However, you have had ample time to clean and reload them.”

“True,” Wes agreed, “and you also have no possible motive for us having shot a pair of strangers we'd never seen before.”

“Only if they were after you, and you got to them first,” said Captain Warner. “But I have no solid evidence, and I can only report the disappearance to the authorities, when we reach New Orleans. They may want to question you further.”

“Then we'll remain aboard until you've made your report,” Wes said.

“This is indeed a ticklish situation,” said the captain, “and I truly appreciate your cooperation.”

He stepped out the door and closed it behind him. Only when they heard his retreating footsteps did El Lobo speak.

“He know.”

“I reckon he does,” said Wes, “but he has no proof. I regret having to lie to him, but remember what Silver told us. We had no witnesses, no proof that we fired only in self-defense. The law could claim we bushwhacked
them.”

“
Sí
,” El Lobo agreed. “The law see only that we be alive and they be dead. The truth kill us.”

“This is only the beginning,” said Wes. “If men go to hell for lying, we may be in big trouble.”

Apparently the captain hadn't questioned all the passengers, for the McQueens did not mention the disappearance of the strangers during supper. Instead, Bamabas took the time to tell Wes as much as he could about his friendship with Nathan Stone.

“We'll have time for breakfast before the boat docks in the morning,” McQueen said.

“We'll look forward to it,” said Wes, “and someday maybe we'll settle down enough to visit you at your place. I'd like to see that big black horse run.”

The steamboat docked on schedule. Wes and El Lobo said good-bye to the McQueens just before they stepped onto the landing. True to their word, they waited on deck until Captain Warner sought them out.

“I have reported the incident to a sheriff's deputy,” the captain said, with some relief, “and lacking witnesses or evidence of foul play, the law won't pursue it. The sheriff's office will hold the belongings of the missing men, so that someone with sufficient proof of their right to claim them can do so. You are free to go.”

“Thank you,” Wes said.

Taking their bedrolls, they waited on the dock until deckhands brought their horses and saddles. Empty followed, glad to be free of the steamboat.

“Now,” said Wes, “let's find us an out-of-the-way boardinghouse with a nearby livery. Then we'll decide where to go from there.”

They soon found a promising place, almost within sight of the steamboat landing. The small wooden sign whose lettering had faded from black to gray said ROOMS AND GRUB, and the establishment was operated by an elderly couple. Both had graying hair, while he had a crippled leg, and he greeted them with a grin.

“We're the Garrets. This is Ida, and I'm Jim.”

“My
amigo's
friends call him El Lobo,” said Wes, “and I'm Wes Stone. We'll need a place to sleep and grub for at least a week. I'll pay extra for my dog, because he can eat more than both of us.”

“No,” Garret said, “there ain't no charge for the dog. It says a lot for a man, havin' a faithful dog. It'll be a dollar a day for each of you. I reckon you've seen the livery. Our son owns it. Tell him you're stayin' with us, and he'll be extry good to your horses.”

Once the horses had been taken to the livery, Wes and El Lobo returned to the Garret house.

“We just got off a steamboat after three days,” Wes said. “If you'll show us to our room, I'd like to spend some time on a bed that won't be movin' under me.”

“Don't blame you,” said Garret. “Dinner's at noon and supper at five.”

The room was large and comfortable. Removing hats, boots, and gunbelts, Wes and El Lobo stretched out on the bed. Empty curled up beneath the window, and since they weren't on a main street, there were few outside noises to disturb them.

“What we do next?” El Lobo asked.

“When the town begins to roar, I reckon we'll visit some of the saloons and gambling houses. Let's pick up a few coins and see if the situation here is as bad as Silver painted it. Maybe we'll get some sense of direction.”

Wes and El Lobo waited until after supper before venturing into town. They avoided the sleazy saloons along the waterfront, making their way to a much larger one, ablaze with lights. Painted across the front in foot-high red letters was FAST EDDIE'S SALOON AND GAMBLING EMPORIUM. Beneath that, in smaller letters, was a descriptive line reading WINE. WOMEN, WHISKEY AND GAMES OF CHANCE. They paused at the door, observing. There was a long hall with hanging lamps and a mahogany bar that looked fifty feet in length. Billiard tables lined the back wall, and except for an island housing a roulette wheel, the rest of the place was dedicated to heavy oak tables and ladder-back chairs. A dozen tables were occupied by men drinking, but there were no card games in progress. A bored girl in a tight red dress sat before the silent roulette wheel.

“I reckon I'll try my luck at the roulette wheel,” Wes said.

As they approached the wheel, the girl forced a smile.

“Ten dollars on seventeen red,” said Wes, producing a double eagle.

The wheel whirred and the ball came to rest far from the number Wes had chosen.

“Let it ride,” Wes said.

Again the wheel whirred and again Wes lost. He produced two more double eagles, and only after spending sixty dollars did he finally win twenty. He accepted the double eagle and dropped it into his shirt pocket for later examination.

“Find us a table,” Wes told El Lobo. “I'll get us a couple beers.”

El Lobo chose a table where he had his back to the wall, and when Wes arrived with the mugs of beer, he twisted his chair around so that he also had his back to the wall. The two of them sat on the same side of the table, drawing curious stares from some of the other patrons. They had barely begun sipping their beer when a pair of uninvited guests arrived. One of the women was a redhead, the other a brunette, and both wore tight, low-cut dresses.

“I'm Emma,” said the redhead, taking the chair facing Wes.

“And I'm Lena,” the brunette said, taking a similar position facing El Lobo.

Wes and El Lobo said nothing, sipping their beer.

“We can show you a good time upstairs,” said Emma, winking suggestively at Wes. “I can promise you the time of your life for just twenty-five dollars.”

“I don't have twenty-five dollars,” Wes said. “Vamoose.”

Emma laughed. “You're just tight. I saw you blow sixty dollars at roulette. You'll get more for your money upstairs.”

“The twenty-five dollars includes a full bottle of whiskey,” said Lena helpfully, winking at El Lobo.

“No drink whiskey,” the Indian said.

“Well, my stars,” Lena all but shouted, “you're both wearing long britches, settin' in a saloon. You're all growed up, and there must be something you do for the fun of it.”

“Ma‘am,” Wes said, irritated, “we're not interested in either of you, or in anything you can do upstairs.”

“Oh,” said Emma in disgust, “you're that kind, are you?”

The two of them got up and flounced angrily away, taking a table at the far end of the bar. Men at the other tables were grinning, and somebody laughed.

“I no think you say that just right,” El Lobo observed.

“Oh, hell,” said Wes, “let them think what they like. Finish your beer and we'll go.”

Suddenly everybody's attention was focused on the roulette wheel, for a stranger had come in and had begun placing ten-dollar bets. Ten times the wheel whirred, and ten times he lost his money.

“This damn wheel is rigged,” he shouted.

To prove his point, he kicked the apparatus over, separating the surrounding curtain. The operator's chair toppled and the girl screamed, but the damage had been done. There was a foot control beneath the curtain. Suddenly a door opened and four burly bouncers emerged, each of them armed with billy clubs and brass knuckles. They surrounded the unfortunate man who had exposed the rigged roulette wheel, beating him unmercifully.

“Come on,” said Wes. “They'll kill him.”

Wes and El Lobo joined the fray just as the victim went down, bloody and senseless. The four brawny men turned on the newcomers, and despite their valiant efforts, they were beaten to the floor. Men at the other tables had turned their heads to the shameful spectacle, and when it was over, they hurriedly left the saloon. One of the bouncers, having relieved Wes and El Lobo of their weapons, spoke.

“Take the three of them to the hole.”

The three hapless victims were dragged through a door into a back room. Kicking back a dirty rug, one of the men unlocked a heavy trapdoor, revealing narrow stairs. One after another, the three unconscious men were tumbled down the stairs into the darkness below. The trapdoor was then closed and locked securely.

“My God,” said Wes, hours later, “where are we?”

“You're in the hole,” said an unfamiliar voice. “I was here when they tumbled the three of you down the stairs. I been here since yesterday.”

“For what purpose?” Wes asked.

“I was cheated,” said the voice, “but I knowed better than to complain. I'd heard of this place. It's a shanghai saloon.”

“What that mean?” El Lobo asked.