Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles (8 page)

Just before noon, a steamboat from the north reached the landing, the hoarse bellow of its whistle causing Empty to cringe. Quickly the gangplank was lowered, and the deck hands began unloading cargo.

“She's an hour late,” Wes said. “They'll have to hustle to get our horses and the northbound cargo on board, if we leave on time.”

“The same steamboat go back the way it comes?”

“Yes,” said Wes. “This is the end of the line. We'll likely have to board another boat in St. Louis for the rest of the way to Kansas City.”

Passengers began arriving well before the freight had been unloaded, and there was some grumbling from those wishing to board early. Wes and El Lobo kept to themselves, watching for possible enemies, but nobody else appeared to be armed. A hack reined up, and after helping the two women down, the driver unloaded their trunks. The women—both with dark hair and in fancy dress—looked around. Just for a moment, their eyes rested on Wes and El Lobo.

“Interesting,” said Wes.

“
Malo
,” El Lobo said.

Wes laughed. “
Amigo
, you reckon they're wearin' a brace of Colts under all the fancy fixings?”

“Per‘ap worse,” said El Lobo.

Finally the freight was unloaded, and before loading the northbound freight all the waiting passengers were allowed to board. But Wes and El Lobo held back, waiting for their horses to be taken aboard. Once the animals had been led on and taken to a lower deck, Wes and EI Lobo followed. Empty followed reluctantly.

Rance Stringfield studied the telegram Turk Corbin had just handed him.

“So they're heading west,” Corbin said. “I don't understand how they escaped all them ambushes in New Orleans.”

“There's nothing ordinary about these gunmen,” said Stringfield. “You had a firsthand look at what they did to us in Mexico. Our problem here in the western United States is getting our organization to see this for the danger it is.”

“By now, they'll know Reed, Morgan, and DeShazo had to be eliminated,” Corbin said, “and all because these
El
Diablo
Pistolas
showed up in New Orleans. That should give ‘em some idea just how dangerous this pair is.”

Stringfield sighed. “I hope so. I never expected them to destroy us in Mexico, but they did. If it happens here, we have nowhere to go.”

“When they reach Kansas City, they'll have to make it from the steamboat landing to the railroad depot,” said Corbin. “Hell, in that distance I could bushwhack the two of ‘em myself.”

“If I had the authority,” Stringfield said, “I'd send you there to do just that. Should they escape us there, we may not have another good chance at them until they get to Boulder, Colorado.”

“If they reach Boulder,” said Corbin, “they'll have to travel by horseback from there to Nevada. That is, if they're goin' there. Just send enough gunmen after them and ride ‘em down.”

“With a mint at Carson City, I have no doubt that's where they're going,” Stringfield said. “I won't be surprised if they create an emergency situation there, just as they did in New Orleans.”

“Maybe it's better if they do,” said Corbin. “It might take something like that to shake up our outfit and make ‘em see what you and me already know.”

“We're at some disadvantage here in St. Louis,” Stringfield said. “Hanks has been the
segundo
there in New Orleans from the start, and has authority we lack.”

“Yeah,” said Corbin, “we come north after the Sandlin gang folded, and it was neck meat or nothin‘. We had to take any position we could get. I can't believe Hanks let them gun-toters escape New Orleans without a scratch, or that he ain't sendin' somebody after 'em. He ain't tellin' us a damn thing he don't have to.”

“I suspect you're right.” Stringfield said, “and he may find himself in trouble because he didn't nail that pair in New Orleans. Especially if they reach Carson City and force the termination of our operation there.”

 

Wes and El Lobo locked the door of their tiny cabin, and removing their hats, boots, and gunbelts, stretched out on their bunks. Empty lay on the floor between them, shifting uneasily as the steamboat got under way.

“If we can rest here until suppertime, we'll be able to spend some of the evening hours on deck,” Wes said. “At least, there's nobody gunning for us, unless they slipped aboard without us seeing them. We'll have a chance to look around during supper.”

“Sí,” said El Lobo. “They have plan for us. We just not know what that plan be.”

“There's always the layover in Kansas City, until we can take the train for Boulder,” Wes said, “and if they miss us there, it's a long train ride. If all else fails, they can tear up some track and stop the train.”

“The Dragon not wait for Kansas City, not wait for train,” said El Lobo.

“I reckon you're seein' somethin' I missed,” Wes said. “Why are you so sure?”

“Not know,” said the Indian. “Per‘ap nothing. Per'ap
malo.”

Come suppertime, Wes first saw that Empty was fed in the kitchen. Then he and El Lobo took their places at one of the many tables. They were early, and over first cups of coffee watched the other passengers enter. The waiters had already begun taking orders when the two women entered the dining hall. With their dark hair, dark eyes, and fancy dress, they were younger and more attractive than they had appeared to be as they had arrived at the landing. They seemed to be seeking a certain table, and men smiled invitingly, but they didn't pause until they were near where Wes and El Lobo sat.

“We hate to eat alone,” said the taller of the two. “May we sit with you?”

El Lobo said nothing. Empty got up, growling, and moved two tables away. There he stood, looking with suspicion upon the two women. Wes finally spoke.

“You're welcome to sit here, if you like.”

The two pulled out chairs and sat down, the one who had spoken sitting across from Wes, while the other faced El Lobo.

“I'm Louise,” said the one who had spoken first. “My friends call me Lou.”

“I'm Monique,” her companion said, “and my friends call me Mona.”

There was no help for it, and Wes spoke.

“I'm Wes, and this is El Lobo. We have no friends.”

“What an unusual name,” said Monique, looking at El Lobo. “Is that your first or last name?”

El Lobo looked at her as though she didn't exist.

“It's his first
and
last name,” Wes said. “He can't speak English.”

“How quaint,” said Monique. “So you speak for him.”

“When I have to,” Wes said. “He generally just shoots people who annoy him.”

“I'm sorry,” said Monique, smiling at El Lobo.

The waiter arrived and the women ordered first.

“Steak, potatoes, coffee, and pie for this side of the table,” Wes said.

El Lobo still said nothing, his dark eyes on Monique. She blushed, looking down at her clasped hands. Empty, coming closer, sensed El Lobo's hostility and growled.

“Your dog doesn't like us,” said Louise.

“He's got to know you awhile,” Wes said, “and then he may not like you. Careful you don't make strange moves. He's been known to bite.”

El Lobo laughed, and Monique took that as a sign of friendliness. She edged closer to the table, and Empty made his move. He seized the hem of Monique's skirt and she let loose a scream like she'd been attacked by a lobo wolf.

“Empty,” Wes said, “back off.”

Only then did Empty let go, growling as he backed away. But a gunshot wouldn't have attracted as much attention as the girl's scream, and the steamboat's captain, Captain Ponder, was there almost immediately.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ponder said with a growl.

“He's my dog,” said Wes, and Empty growled again.

“He doesn't belong in the dining hall,” Captain Ponder said. “If he can't behave himself, he'll have to be confined to your quarters. Remove him at once.”

“Captain,” said Monique, “he didn't bite me. He only frightened me a little. I'm sorry to have disturbed anyone.”

“Quite all right,” Captain Ponder said, smiling.

“I'll be back,” said Wes. “Come on, Empty.”

Empty followed Wes out of the dining hall and down the narrow corridor to the cabin Wes and El Lobo shared. Wes unlocked the door and Empty followed him inside.

“Sorry, fellow,” Wes said, “but you went a little too far. ”

Wes went out, locking the door behind him, and returned to the dining hall. Louise was talking, and Monique had regained her composure.

“Sorry about that,” said Wes, taking his chair at the table. “He's never done that before. I reckon after he's been fed in the kitchen, I'll have to take him back to the cabin.”

“Monique and me grew up in town,” Louise said. “We haven't had much experience with animals.”

“Here comes our food,” said Monique.

Wes was grateful for the arrival of the food, for it was an opportunity for them all to remain silent while they ate. He caught El Lobo's eye a time or two, uncertain as to how the Indian might react to these suspiciously friendly women. El Lobo seemed to know something was amiss, for he seemed to relax. Unbuttoning his coat, he leaned back and sipped his coffee, regarding Monique with interest.

“Monique and me are going to Boulder, Colorado,” Louise volunteered.

“For a visit, I reckon,” said Wes. “It's an interesting town.”

“Oh, we live in Boulder,” Monique said. “We grew up in New Orleans, and we've been here visiting our families. They think we work for a mining company in Boulder.”

“I reckon you don‘t, then,” said Wes.

“Hardly,” Louise said. “We started working at the Pretty Girl Saloon in Denver, and when a new one opened in Boulder, we were offered a bonus to go there.”

“I've heard of those places,” said Wes. “All the girls are naked.”

Monique laughed. “Not totally. We wear shoes and red ribbons in our hair.”

“I can't say I blame you for claiming to work for a mining company,” Wes said. “Most folks don't consider it respectable for a woman to walk around naked in a saloon.”

“Respectable folks expect a woman to spend her days over a hot stove and her nights pleasing some no-account man,” said Louise. “There's one kid after another until she's too old and used up to go on. Well, that's not for me.”

“Nor me,” Monique said.

“Naked in a roomful of gamblers,” Wes said, “You're still pleasing men.”

“They're paying dearly,” said Louise, “and it's look but don't touch. When you're in Boulder, sit in on some of our games. I can't promise you'll win, but you'll get an eyeful. We'll do our best to take your mind off how much you lose.”

El Lobo laughed.

“Is he laughing with us, or at us” Monique asked.

“At you, probably,” said Wes. “For a pair of manhaters, you didn't lose time sittin' down with us. How do you explain that?”

Louise laughed. “You misjudge us. We don't hate men. We enjoy the company of men and that attention only they can provide, but only men of our choosing, on our terms. We liked the looks of you two. You seem just wild enough to be interesting, without the need to settle down, to burden a woman with crying babies.”

Wes laughed. “We have no choice, then.”

“None,” said Louise. “With cabins the size of broom closets, what is there to do on a steamboat?”

“There's a roulette wheel in the casino,” Wes said. “We can go in there and lose a few dollars to further enrich the owners of this steamboat.”

“Why not?” said Monique. “We're not allowed to gamble in the Pretty Girl Saloon. It might be fun.”

So they left the dining hall, the eyes of many men upon them, and went into the adjoining gambling casino. There was a dozen tables for various card games, and the roulette wheel. The wheel was silent, attended by a bored little man in a green-visored cap.

“Pick a number and color,” Wes said, taking a double eagle from his pocket.

“Thirteen red,” said Louise, “but I pay my own way.”

She dropped a double eagle on the table near the wheel, and the bored operator came to life. Wes slapped two double eagles on the table, deftly palming the coin Louise had placed there.

“Thirteen red for me,” Wes said.

“Wait,” said Monique, “I want to play.”

Surprisingly, she dropped a double eagle in El Lobo's hand. Reaching in his pocket for a coin, he took two between his fingers, palming the double eagle Monique had given him.

“I'm betting my age,” Monique said. “Nineteen black.”

The wheel's operator looked at El Lobo, and he nodded. He would go with Monique's choice. The wheel whirred to life, the ball rattling around, and it settled on a number that cost them all their money.

“Again,” said Louise. “Same number, same color.”

“The same for me,” Monique said. “I feel lucky.”

“I don‘t,” said Wes, “but I'll go with it another turn.”

El Lobo said nothing, confirming his intention to play by producing his money. Again the wheel whirred, and again the house won.

“This contraption's too rich for my blood,” Wes said. “If it'll make you feel better, me and El Lobo will watch the two of you lose your money.”