Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles (6 page)

Reed reined up his team, stepped down, and hurried to the house. He knocked, the door was opened, and he entered. He was there only a few minutes. Returning to his buckboard, he drove away.

“We follow?” El Lobo asked.

“No,” said Wes. “He's on his way to DeShazo's.”

“He lie to us,” El Lobo said.

“They were pretty convincing,” said Wes, “but I think Reed's neck-deep in this. Otherwise, why would he be calling on Morgan and DeShazo? I told Reed we needed to capture a member of the gang who could be made to talk. I reckon he's not all that sure of Morgan and DeShazo. I think we need to get word to Silver. Let's ride.”

But before they could mount their horses, Empty growled a warning.

“Get down,” Wes warned. “We may have been discovered.”

They were barely in time. Empty fought his way through the hedge as three rifles cut loose, burning the air with deadly fire. Slugs struck gravestones, screaming away, only to be followed by another fusillade.

“Damn,” said Wes, “they're on the other side of the cemetery, firing through the hedge. We need our Winchesters.”

But their Winchesters were in their saddle boots and the horses, made skittish by the gunfire, were out of reach. They would have to make do with their Colts. El Lobo already had the idea, for he had begun inching his way toward their attackers, using the mounded graves and headstones for cover. While the gunmen they sought fired from behind the hedge, there were puffs of smoke, providing targets of sorts. Once Wes and El Lobo were within range, they cut loose, firing into the hedge below the drifting powdersmoke. Their efforts were rewarded with angry curses from their attackers and cries of pain. Suddenly, as Wes and El Lobo stepped up the attack, the firing from the bushwhackers ceased. There was a sound of retreating horses.

“They're gone,” said Wes, “and we'd better vamoose. After all this shooting, somebody will have the law here.”

Quickly they mounted their horses. Using the little church for cover, they went between it and the thick hedge, pausing when they again heard hoofbeats. Half a dozen horsemen rode along the street. Galloping along the opposite side of the church, they headed for the cemetery. Quickly, unseen, Wes and El Lobo trotted their horses toward the street until they were safely away. Empty had been waiting, and caught up to them.

“Now,” Wes said, “let's find a telegraph office.”

“Sí,”
said El Lobo, “if we don't get shot dead.”

“We'll have to risk that,” Wes said. “Let's just hope the Dragon forces don't break the code Silver gave us. I wonder if the telegraph offices are open on Sunday?”

They rode through the quiet streets, and during their search for the telegraph office, Wes spotted a Union soldier coming out of a café. There were silver captain‘s bars on the epaulets of the soldier's blue coat, and as he proceeded along the boardwalk, Wes and El Lobo caught up to him.

“Captain,” Wes said, reining up.

“I am Captain Powers,” said the military man. “What do you want of me?”

“Is there a military outpost here” Wes asked.

“There is,” said Powers. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you have the telegraph?” Wes asked.

“Yes,” said Powers, “but it's not for civilian use, except in extreme emergencies.”

“We have such an emergency,” Wes said. “Here's some identification.”

He presented the coded card Silver had given him, along with the watch that Silver had once given Nathan Stone. Powers looked at the card first and then snapped open the engraved silver cover of the watch case. Inside was the great seal of the United States, and beneath it, OFFICE OF THE ATTORNEY GENERAL.

“I've seen that watch before,” said Powers.

“It belonged to my father,” Wes said. “We are representing the man who gave him the watch, and we must reach him by telegraph today.”

“Come with me,” said Powers. “We only have a six-man outpost, and our telegrapher's not here. Do you read Morse?”

“I do,” Wes said. “I can send and receive. My name is Wes Stone, and my
amigo
is El Lobo. We're also known as the
El Diablo Pistolas.”

“By God,” said Powers, “you're the
hombres
who wiped out that bunch of outlaws in Mexico. We intercepted some of your telegrams.”

“We are,” Wes said, “but that's all I can tell you. Do you have a code for your outpost that won't give away your location?”

“We do,” said Powers.

“Good,” Wes said. “It may be important for persons receiving this telegram to know we are at a federal outpost.”

The military headquarters consisted of three rooms in one side of an office building. A sergeant sat behind a desk. He stood and saluted as Captain Powers entered.

“As you were, sergeant,” said Powers. “We have business with the telegraph, and are not to be disturbed.”

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant replied.

The small room was bare, except for three chairs and a table upon which the instrument sat. Beside it were pencils and a supply of yellow paper for the transcribing of incoming messages.

“Go ahead,” Powers said. “Sign off with thirty-four.”

Wes drew up a chair, tapped in the proper information, and asked for permission to send his message. The instrument was silent for a moment and then began to chatter. Permission had been granted. Carefully, Wes sent the coded message that would tell Silver they were in New Orleans and what they had discovered. The message was simple. It read “Two one one zero stop.” Wes signed off with thirty-four. The telegraph instrument was silent for a moment and then began to chatter. The message had been received.

“Now what?” Captain Powers asked.

“We wait,” said Wes. “This being federal business, there may be a message for you.”

“A strange message, sir,” said an aide who brought the telegram to Bryan Silver. “Will there be a reply?”

“If there is,” Silver replied, “I'll send it.”

The code was simple but meaningless to one who had not been told the key words. The
two
told Silver the number which appeared on the reverse side of the Golden Dragon coins. The
one
referred to the first of the three mints, in New Orleans, while the second
one
was a code word for the mint's director. The
zero
meant that nothing had been done. The next move belonged to Silver, and taking note of the location, he composed a message directly to Captain Powers. It read:

“Act on orders from our agents. Stop. Place under military arrest person or persons so designated. Stop. Tight security and around clock guard until further contact.”

Silver signed his name, along with his title from the office of the attorney general. He then headed for the agency's telegraph office.

 

Conversation had soon dwindled away to nothing as Wes, El Lobo, and Captain Powers awaited a response. Three-quarters of an hour passed before the telegraph instrument began chattering for permission to send. Wes granted permission and then took down the message as it came over the wire. Without a word, he passed the message to the captain.

“I know Silver,” Captain Powers said after reading the message. “I once hauled him from Barnabas McQueen's ranch in a wagon, after he'd been shot.”
⁵

“It's good that you know him,” said Wes, “because we've been sworn to secrecy and I can't tell you what this is all about. But you know it's serious business, or Silver wouldn't be involved in it.”

“That I do,” Powers said, “but there's a problem. Like I told you, this is a small outpost, and we have only six men. Sergeant Gaines and I are on duty this weekend, and I' 11 be unable to secure added manpower until tomorrow. Do we have that much time?”

“I don't know,” Wes said. “El Lobo and me visited the
hombre
in question today, and were ambushed as we knocked on his door. After that, having our suspicions of him, we ran into another fight with three gunmen. We were looking for a telegraph office when we saw you, and we can't be sure we weren't followed here.”

“Then it's far more serious than I imagined,” said Powers. “In my judgment, I'd say we should delay further action until in the morning, when I'll have additional manpower. If you will send the message, I'll wire Silver.”

Powers wrote a brief message and Wes sent it. An hour passed without response.

“I reckon he's in agreement with you,” Wes said. “We might as well return to our rooming house, if we can.”

But Wes Stone's suspicions were more real than he realized. They
had
been followed. As Wes and El Lobo stepped out the door, lead splintered the door frame. A second slug tore into El Lobo's upper left arm as they scrambled back inside the military office. Three more times the rifle spoke, slamming lead into the door.

“Off with your shirt,” Powers ordered El Lobo. “We have a medicine chest. Sergeant Gaines can see to your wound.”

The slug had missed the bone, and Gaines disinfected and bandaged the wound.

“Under the circumstances,” said Powers, “I believe the two of you should remain here for the night. There are bunks in the next room.”

“But our horses are outside,” Wes said, “and my dog's with them.”

“I'll stable the horses,” said Sergeant Gaines, “and the dog can come in, if he wants.”

There came a knock on the door, and when Sergeant Gaines opened it, there stood a man wearing a star. Eyeing the bullet holes and splintered door frame, he spoke.

“I'm Deputy Sheriff Baxter. Somebody said there's been shooting.”

“Yes,” Captain Powers said quickly, “but no harm done. There's always harassment from some who are dissatisfied with the military. Let it go.”

Seeming relieved, the deputy turned away.

“I'll stable the horses now,” said Sergeant Gaines.

Cautiously he opened the door, but there was no more shooting.

“This sort of thing doesn't often happen in town,” Captain Powers said. “I expect the gunman didn't like attracting the attention of the law.”

“The bunch we're after don't seem all that concerned with the law,” said Wes. “We've been shot at three different times today, and the first lawman we've seen is the deputy who just left here.”

“We don't involve ourselves in anything except possible threats to the federal government,” Powers said, “so I'm not all that aware of the effectiveness of local authorities. I'm aware, however, that gambling interests in New Orleans seem to flourish. Only when they step over the line, involving themselves in crimes against the Union do we take action. It was just such a situation, a few years ago, that brought me in contact with your father and Bryan Silver. They broke up a gambling syndicate involved in white slavery, the selling of American women in Mexico.”
⁶

“I heard about that from Silver himself,” said Wes.

“I'll have Sergeant Gaines bring supper to you,” Powers said. “Three attempted bushwhackings in one day is more than enough.”

“We're obliged,” said Wes. “We should get started in the morning as early as possible. I have the feeling that time is important.”

 

Elsewhere in New Orleans, Emo Hanks glared angrily at Eads, Ansco, and Dobie, the three gunmen he had sent after Wes Stone and El Lobo. Eads had a bandage on his arm, while Dobie wore a similar one around his head.

“Three attempts,” Hanks shouted, “and three failures. Is that the best you can do?”

“Damn it,” said Ansco, “this is a slippery pair. They ain't no shorthorns, and they can shoot like hell wouldn't have it. We had ‘em pinned down once, without their rifles, and they come after us with pistols. That's when Dobie and Eads was hit.”

“And the three of you ran,” Hanks said in disgust. “Why didn't you shoot it out? You ain't paid to run when the shootin' starts.”

“Hell, they was riders comin' to investigate all the shootin‘,” said Ansco defensively. “You told us to get away ahead of the law.”

“So they're holed up in town, at the federal outpost,” Hanks said.

“Yeah,” said Ansco. “I fired a few shots as they was about to leave, and they went back inside. I nicked one of ‘em, but when the law showed up, I backed off.”

“A Union officer can make military arrests,” Hanks said, “and them showin' up there is bad news for us. I have another job for you, and it can be done under cover of darkness. Here's what I want you to do, sometime before dawn ...”

 

 

Sergeant Gaines brought Wes and El Lobo food for supper, and a portion for Empty.

“I'll be bunking in the outer office,” said Gaines.

“Sorry to keep you here overnight,” Wes said.

“Orders from Captain Powers,” said Gaines. “It goes with the job.”

The night dragged on, and despite the apparent safety, Wes and El Lobo had trouble sleeping. Twice Empty faced the door, growling at something real or imaginary.

“No like this,” El Lobo said. “We be trapped in here.”

“Not unless they decide to burn down a federal outpost,” said Wes. “The real danger may come tomorrow, when we leave here for Oliver Reed's place.”

“Per‘ap they kill him,” El Lobo said.

“That's a troublesome possibility,” said Wes, “and it would spoil our chances of doing anything more in New Orleans, unless we can pin something on DeShazo or Morgan.”