Ralph Compton Train to Durango (13 page)

“You're also president of the town council, at least for the time being,” said Wexler. “Now fetch me that buckboard.”

Giddings enjoyed the prestige that went with being president of the town council, and he was convinced that if Wexler wished, he could head the council with a man of his own choosing. Giddings, swallowing his anger and his pride, mounted his horse and rode to the livery.

“I need a buckboard,” Giddings told the hostler, old man Belkin. “Charge it to Ashe Wexler.”

Belkin laughed. “I wondered how he could poke his nose in everybody's business, him on crutches. So you're gonna be drivin' him where he wants to go.”

“Hell, no,” said Giddings. “I'm taking him to the jail and back to the Dodge House, and that's all. He aims to give the sheriff hell, and to maybe question them bushwhackers that's locked up.”

Having just returned from Kansas City, Harley Stafford had gone to the livery for his horse. He listened with interest to the conversation between Belkin and Giddings. Quickly he saddled his mount and rode to the Dodge House. He knocked on the door to Silver's room, identified himself, and the door was quickly opened.

“I heard something at the livery that might interest you,” Harley said. “Giddings, the president of the town council, was rentin' a buckboard. He's taking Ashe Wexler to the jail to give Sheriff Dumery a headache. While he's there, he aims to question those coyotes who were involved in bushwhacking.”

“I'm obliged, Harley,” Silver said. “I knew Wexler was coming in on the westbound, but I didn't expect him to go immediately to the jail. I'll be there when he arrives, so the sheriff won't have to face him alone.”

Aware of Harley's arrival, Wes and El Lobo had been listening at their doors. Quietly they stepped out.

“We're goin' with you,” said Wes. “We can raise some hell of our own if need be.”

“Come on, then,” Silver said, “but don't make any moves you don't have to. Just keep in mind that Wexler is a newspaper man, and he'll pry as much out of us as he can. Let me do the talking, as much as possible.”

“What about us?” Molly asked.

“Unless he speaks directly to you, stay out of it,” said Silver, “and don't answer any questions that make you uncomfortable. We've broken no laws, and I don't intend for any of us to be intimidated. Harley, since you're mounted, ride on ahead. Tell Sheriff Dumery that Wexler's coming, and so are we.”

“Too far,” El Lobo said. “No walk.”

“Stay here, then,” said Silver. “Wes and me can handle it.”

“I walk,” Tamara said, her dark eyes boring into his. “You walk with me.”

“
Sí
,” said El Lobo. “I walk with you.”

El Lobo glared at them all, to see if anyone was about to laugh. They all managed to keep a straight face, and the moment passed. Harley mounted his horse and rode away.

“Come on,” Silver said. “We need to get there ahead of Wexler.”

“I have an idea he'll raise hell when he learns you're takin' one of those bushwhackers off to Leavenworth,” said Wes. “If nothing else, it'll fire up his suspicions, and he'll just about know there's more to this than friends siding with friends during a gunfight.”

“That's a chance we'll have to take,” Silver said. “The only thing he can print that will hurt us is an account of the capture of one of the bushwhackers. He can't prove that this whole thing isn't just gun-throwers looking for a reputation. I don't want him knowing I'll be leaving on the eastbound for Kansas City. Before he can print anything, our prisoner should be under tight security at Fort Leavenworth.”

When Silver and his party reached the jail, Harley had already warned the sheriff, and he looked grim.

“I didn't expect him today,” said Sheriff Dumery.

“No matter,” Silver replied. “We might as well face him and get it behind us.”

“I've stood up to him, and he hates my guts,” said Sheriff Dumery. “Just don't say any more than you have to, and let him unload on me.”

“No,” Silver said. “If I have to, I can tell him you're cooperating in a federal case, without telling him the nature of it. There'll be no keeping it from him when I board the eastbound with a captured bushwhacker.”

“If you tell him who you are, and that you're involved in a federal case,” said Sheriff Dumery, “why don't you tell him these bushwhackers were after you? That will account for Wes and Palo traveling with you, and for Wes having to defend himself in gunfights.”

“Maybe I'll just do that,” Silver said. “It would be reason enough for me taking one of the bushwhackers to Fort Leavenworth's stockade.”

There was the rattle of an approaching buckboard.

“Here he comes,” said Sheriff Dumery, “and Elmo Giddings is with him. You want me to keep Giddings outside?”

“No,” Silver said. “Invite him in. Being president of the town council, he needs to see Ashe Wexler cut down to size.”

Sheriff Dumery stepped out, closing the door behind him. Giddings reined up the team, stepped down, and assisted Ashe Wexler. Supporting himself by holding to the buckboard's front wheel, Wexler reached for his crutches.

“Giddings,” said Wexler, “wait here.”

“As president of the town council, Mr. Giddings is entitled to attend this meeting,” Sheriff Dumery said. “Come on, Giddings.”

Giddings paused, aware of the storm brewing in Wexler's eyes. But Sheriff Dumery was unyielding, and Giddings looped the reins of the team about a hitch rail. The sheriff held the door open until Wexler and Giddings had entered. Dumery came in behind them and closed the door. Wexler eased himself into a chair near the door, while Giddings took up a position beside him, leaning against the wall.

“I suppose you can justify the presence of these people, Sheriff,” said Wexler.

“I can,” Dumery replied.

Taking his time, Sheriff Dumery introduced them all, saving Wes and Renita for last.

“So you're the young hellion responsible for luring killers to Dodge City,” said the newspaper editor. “Sheriff, why have you permitted him to remain here?”

“He's broken no law, Mr. Wexler,” Sheriff Dumery said. “He defended himself. I was a witness, and it was a fair fight.”

“Giddings,” said Wexler, “perhaps it's time Dodge had a gun ordinance.”

“I . . . we . . .” Giddings stammered.

But he was silenced when Bryan Silver spoke.

“Mr. Wexler, I represent the office of the attorney general of the United States. I am involved in an investigation the nature of which I cannot reveal at this time. I cannot—will not—allow you to blame these attempted bushwhackings on Wes Stone. These killers were after me, and they've used these gunmen who would kill Stone for his reputation. Today I am taking one of these would-be killers east, to Fort Leavenworth. There he will be held in federal custody.”

“Have you finished, Mr. Silver?” Wexler asked, his voice dripping sarcasm.

“For the moment,” said Silver. “I'm sure I'll have more to say, after you've revealed your purpose for being here. Go on.”

“I'm here to learn the truth behind these legalized murders, and the true purpose of the attempted bushwhackings,” Wexler said. “When I know those truths, I'll print them.”

“Mr. Wexler,” said Wes, “these men who have been calling me out, testing my draw, are nothing more than they seem. They're after a reputation for killing me, and you can't make anything else of it. None of the bushwhackers has fired on me, while I stood there waiting for my opponent to draw. When you demand a gun law for Dodge, do you plan to disarm the bushwhackers?”

“I am not the law,” Wexler said stiffly. “Guns are silenced by removing them from the hands of men who live by them. Men such as you, Stone.”

“Mr. Wexler,” said Silver, “I'm asking you, man-to-man, to back off until such a time as I can reveal the nature of my investigation.”

“And if I don't,” Wexler said, “can you stop me?”

“I can and will counter any move you make,” said Silver. “As for your gun law, I have friendly newspapers that will testify to the truth Wes Stone has told you. You'll become the laughingstock of the West, attempting to sentence a man to death by taking away his guns. Your gun law certainly won't disarm the bushwhackers who are determined to see me dead, and when this investigation is finished, I'll finish you.”

Wexler laughed. “Silver, you're a man after my own heart. I can see that you will be a worthy adversary. You have convinced me Wes Stone is no more than a gunslinger on his way to a grave on Boot Hill. You, Silver, are the man to watch, and I'll be watching.”

“You'd better confine yourself to watching,” Silver said, “until this case is closed. And I won't have you persecuting my friends, including Sheriff Dumery. One sneaky, lowdown trick from you, and I'll personally cut your string.”

Wexler said nothing. Rising, he reached for his crutches, and Giddings opened the door for him to exit. Giddings virtually lifted Wexler to the seat of the buckboard. Untying the reins of the team, Giddings mounted the box and drove away.

Sheriff Dumery sighed. “Mr. Silver, I never seen nothin' like it. Can you really do all you promised?”

Silver laughed. “I'm not entirely sure, Sheriff,” said Silver, “but Wexler won't know that. I'm counting on him not having the sand to find out.”

“He as much as admitted he won't demand a gun law,” Wes said.

“That part wasn't a threat, but a promise,” said Silver. “Someday there'll be enough law to protect us. Until then, only a fool disarms the honest man, while allowing the bushwhackers and fast-draw killers to intimidate and kill.”

“The Kansas City papers will be the ones to watch,” Sheriff Dumery said. “If Wexler is telling the truth—if he is only interested in this federal case—he may run everything he writes through the better-known papers. I suspect he'll see this as the biggest crusade he's ever been close to. He'll bear watching.”

“None of us will take him for granted,” said Silver. “I'll want you to accompany me and the bushwhacker to the depot a few minutes before train time.”

“I'll be ready,” Sheriff Dumery said. “His horse is behind the jail.”

“We'll be going, then,” said Silver, “and I'll meet you here half an hour before the eastbound is due.”

“
Bueno
,” Sheriff Dumery said, “and I'm obliged for you comin' down on Wexler.”

Silver, Wes, El Lobo, Molly, Renita, and Tamara walked back to the Dodge House.

“You bueno hombre,” said El Lobo, slapping Silver on the back.

Silver laughed. “Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment.”

“He said it all,” Wes said, “and I learned something. Wexler and men like him are only as big as they're allowed to be. They force their ideas and ideals on the rest of us to the extent that we're willing to swallow them.”

“And you don't always have to use a gun,” said Renita.

“I'll talk to all of you again,” Silver said, when they reached the Dodge House. “When I return from Kansas City, we're going Dragon hunting. In Colorado.”

Three-quarters of an hour before train time, Silver knocked on the door to the rooms of Wes and El Lobo.

“I'll need one of you to go with us, to return our horses to the livery after Molly and me have boarded the train with our bushwhacker,” said Silver. “I brought a livery horse.”

“I go,” El Lobo said.

El Lobo mounted the third horse, while Silver helped Molly into her saddle. The three of them then started for the jail.

“Oh, Lord,” Renita said, “I hope nothing goes wrong before Silver can get that man to Fort Leavenworth.”

“I don't see how it could,” said Wes. “News of the killing and capture can't possibly have gotten back to the Dragon so soon.”

•   •   •

Denver, Colorado, April 13, 1885

Emo Hanks entered Drade Hogan's office, waiting nervously until Hogan nodded to a chair. Hanks sat down, saying nothing.

“You know Dent Shankler and Turk Pardue?” Hogan asked.

“Yeah,” said Hanks, “I know ‘em.”

“Good,” Hogan said. “I want you to go to Dodge and find out what's become of them. I fear they've bungled a situation I sent them there to handle, and I suspect they've been killed or captured. The eastbound will be pulling out in an hour. Be on it.”

“I'll be on it,” said Hanks. “Any specific orders?”

“Just one,” Hogan said. “If either or both have been captured, eliminate them.”

When Silver, Molly, and El Lobo reached the jail, Sheriff Dumery had already saddled his own horse, as well as the animal Shankler would ride to the depot.

“I aim to handcuff him and tie a lead rope around his middle,” Sheriff Dumery said. “You reckon that'll be enough?”

“I think so,” said Silver.

Shankler's hands were cuffed behind his back, and Sheriff Dumery helped him mount the horse. Dumery then knotted a lead rope around Shankler's middle. The lawman and the captive went first. Sheriff Dumery in control of the lead rope. Silver, Molly, and El Lobo followed. They had barely reached the depot when the eastbound's whistle blew, preparing for the stop at Dodge.

“Good luck, Silver,” said Sheriff Dumery.

“I'm obliged,” Silver said. “This will be the first time we've been able to capture one of these coyotes and lock him up where they can't kill him.”

“I've never seen such a crowd waitin' for the train to come in,” said Sheriff Dumery.

“They're not concerned with the arrival of the train,” Silver said. “Maybe it was a big mistake on my part, telling Ashe Wexler what I aimed to do, for he seems to have told everybody else. While he probably can't hurt us in print, his big mouth could turn public opinion against us.”

With clanging bell, the train rolled in, the locomotive coming to a stop near the water tank. Aboard one of the passenger coaches, Emo Hanks looked out the window. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Dent Shankler in handcuffs, obviously waiting to board the train. The conductor was coming down the aisle, and Hanks spoke to him.

“I've decided not to stop in Dodge, conductor. I'll be going on to Kansas City. Might not have time to buy another ticket. Will you take the money?”

Hanks dropped two double eagles—more than twice the cost of the fare—into the conductor's hand.

“You're cleared to Kansas City,” the railroad man said.

Hanks retreated to the far end of the coach, because the handcuffed Shankler would know him. It was a dangerous situation, for if Shankler believed Hanks had been sent to silence him, Shankler might talk to save his own hide. Choosing a seat with its back to the far end of the coach, Hanks sat down. He sighed with relief when Shankler and his captor took seats near the opposite end of the coach. Turning his head slightly, he could see them from the corner of his eye. For the first time, he noticed a bandage just above Shankler's collar. Shankler had been taken alive, and Hanks immediately wrote off Pardue as dead. All he must do is learn where Shankler was being taken, and eliminate him, as Drade Hogan had ordered. He tipped his hat over his eyes and was about to doze, when the conductor came down the aisle, taking tickets. While the conductor ignored Hanks, his elbow struck the tilted hat, dropping it over the back of the seat. He went on, not aware of the fallen hat.

“Damn,” Hanks mumbled. Leaning out into the aisle, he reached behind the seat for his hat. Seizing it, he straightened up, only to find himself staring into the frightened eyes of Dent Shankler.

Shankler caught himself, and all recognition vanished from his face, but not before Silver had seen and understood. The surprise and fear in his captive's eyes told Silver the man was well aware of the Dragon's policy of just eliminating those who might talk to save themselves.

“What did you see?” Molly whispered, having seen Silver's reaction.

“I'll tell you later,” said Silver.

Emo Hanks silently cursed himself for having allowed Dent Shankler to see his face. In Shankler's desperate mind, he would believe his and Pardue's failure was known, and that he, Emo Hanks, had been sent to kill Shankler. Vainly Hanks listened for Shankler's voice, but Shankler remained silent. When he eventually spoke, it was in a whisper.

“When we get to Leavenworth, what's it worth to you if I talk?”

“It'll be worth a hell of a lot more to you than to me,” Silver said. “It's the difference between doing some time, and the rope.”

“I'll do what I have to do,” said Shankler. “Just don't let them get to me.”

“I reckon they've made a good start,” Silver said. “Who is the
hombre
that dropped his hat and scared the bejabbers out of you?”

“Emo Hanks,” Shankler whispered. “He come to us from New Orleans.”

“I've heard of him,” said Silver. “Now who are you?”

“Dent Shankler.”

“That's a start,” Silver said. “Who was your partner?”

“Turk Pardue.”

While the whispered conversation was taking place, Molly observed the back of Hanks's head. It moved from side to side, just short of turning, but Hanks didn't allow them to see his face again. He tilted the hat over his eyes, appearing to sleep, rousing when there was a blast of the locomotive's whistle or when the train passed over a rough section of track. Finally there were three quick blasts of the whistle announcing their arrival in Kansas City.

“Shankler,” said Silver, “we're nearest the door, so we'll get off first. I want you to have a good look at that
hombre
ahead of us.”

Shankler said nothing, but as the train shuddered and began to slow, Hanks wasted no time in getting to his feet.

“Molly, stay behind me,” Silver said.

Silver removed the handcuff from his own wrist, coupling Shankler's wrists together. He started down the aisle, Shankler in front of him, Molly behind. But Emo Hanks had been out the door before the train stopped. He dropped off the car's iron steps and hit the ground running. Drawing his Colt, he took refuge between the tender and the first of the passenger coaches. Just as Shankler stepped to the ground, Hanks fired. The slug burned a fiery path across Shankler's chest. But there were no more shots, for in an instant, Silver had a Colt in his hand, returning fire. Lead whanged off the tender's iron shell, and Emo Hanks grunted when part of a ricochet tore a bloody gash across his arm. The situation had taken a deadly turn. Holstering his Colt, he hurried to the other end of the passenger coach. When he looked up, a woman within the coach was staring in horrified fascination at the blood on the sleeve of Hanks's shirt. Quickly he rolled up the sleeve, and using his teeth, knotted his bandanna around the bleeding wound. He knew his hasty shot had missed Shankler. Now he must learn where Shankler was being taken, or all would be lost.

“I'm hit,” Shankler cried.

“You were creased,” said Silver. “We'll go to the depot waiting room and send for a doctor to patch you up.”

“The man who did the shooting may still be around,” Molly said.

“I'm sure he is,” said Silver. “He'll want to know where we're taking Shankler. Keep your eyes open and your pistol handy.”

Several railroad men—one of them the conductor—were coming to investigate the gunfire.

“What's going on?” the conductor demanded. “What's the shootin' about?”

“This man is in federal custody,” said Silver. “Somebody from the train just tried to kill him. We're going to the depot. Get him a doctor, pronto.”

Hanks had hidden behind some boxcars on a side track, and from there he was able to see Silver, Shankler, and Molly enter the depot. While he hadn't killed Shankler, he had drawn blood, and that might be his undoing. Aware that he was marked for death, Dent Shankler might be all the more willing to talk. Hanks had but one choice, and that was to silence Shankler with lead.

•   •   •

“Cleanse the wound again tomorrow,” the doctor said, “and apply a fresh bandage.”

With clanging bell and shrieking whistle, the train departed. Just as the doctor stepped out the door, the sheriff arrived. He was dressed like a cowboy, in Levi's, denim shirt, and rough-out boots. A gray Stetson and a lawman's badge completed his attire.

“I'm Sheriff Benteen,” he said. “I'm here because of the shooting.”

“I'm not at liberty to tell you a lot, Sheriff,” said Silver. “Here are my credentials.”

Sheriff Benteen studied Silver's identification and returned it.

“This man is to become a witness in a federal case,” Silver said, “and I'm taking him to Fort Leavenworth. The outfit we're after will kill him if they can. One of them fired at us as we stepped off the train. I returned his fire, but he was shooting from cover, and I have no doubt he escaped.”

“Mister,” said Sheriff Benteen, his eyes on Shankler, “you got anything to say?”

“He told you the truth,” Shankler said. “They aim to kill me. Emo Hanks will follow us wherever we go.”

“Maybe not,” said Sheriff Benteen. “The town's full of soldiers, and most of them will be returning to Leavenworth today. I know some of the officers. All of you remain where you are, and I may be able to fix you up with a military escort.”

“We'd be obliged,” Silver said. “I'll need to rent a buckboard at the livery.”

“Let that wait until I see if I can find you an escort,” said Benteen.

Then he was gone, and Molly sighed with relief.

•   •   •

Durango, Colorado, April 13, 1885

Using an old wagon they had purchased for that purpose, Elias Hawk and Hobie Denbow had picked up a heavy crate at the depot, and were on their way back to the mine. Once there, they wrestled the crate inside. After resting a moment, they managed to take it through the hidden door.

“Unhitch the horses,” Hawk ordered, “and then we'll have a look at all this expensive machinery.”

When Denbow returned, Hawk was using a hatchet to break away the heavy wooden crate. He finally succeeded in prying off the top.

“Damn,” said Denbow, “it's locked.”

Hawk laughed. “Just Hogan's way of delivering us from temptation, my boy.”

Drawing his Colt, Hawk blasted away the lock. He then opened the heavy case, revealing its golden contents.

“Great gallopin' horn toads,” Denbow cried, “we're rich. But how're you gonna account for bustin' the lock?”

“I don't intend to account for anything,” said Hawk. “Soon as we get a few more shipments of machinery, we'll board a sailing ship for parts unknown.”

“I like the sound of that,” Denbow said, “but we're one hell of a long ways from any water deep enough to float a sailin' ship.”

“You know as much as you need to, for now,” said Hawk. “You'll know more before we make our move.”

“By God, you don't trust me,” Denbow snarled.

“I don't trust any man, when there's gold involved,” said Hawk.

•   •   •

Kansas City, Missouri, April 13, 1885

Emo Hanks had found an empty boxcar on the siding, and from within the car, he was able to observe the depot. He sighed with relief when Sheriff Benteen eventually left, but grew increasingly impatient because there was no sign of Shankler or his captor. Hanks was about to try working his way to the depot, when he heard horses coming. The four soldiers dismounted before the depot, and the evening sun flashed off the officer's brass on the collar of one of the men. Hanks cursed under his breath, and within seconds, five more of the bluecoats reined up before the depot.

“Damn the rotten luck,” said Hanks aloud. “They're takin' him to Fort Leavenworth.”

Captain Bidler, among the first four soldiers to reach the depot, introduced himself and the men with him.

“All we've been told is that you're taking a federal prisoner to Fort Leavenworth,” Bidler said, “and there's a possibility that he'll be killed before you get him there.”

“That's what it amounts to,” said Silver. “I can't go into detail about the nature of this case. Sheriff Benteen suggested that some of you might escort us to Fort Leavenworth. I can tell you very little, but I can satisfy you as to my credentials.”

He passed his federal identification to Captain Bidler.

“Mr. Silver,” Captain Bidler said, “we almost never see anybody of importance, except visiting brass from Washington. There must be something God-awful important, to bring you here.”

“There is,” said Silver, “and I regret that I can't tell you more. But I can tell you this much. There's a threat to the well-being of this nation, unless it's stopped, and this man in handcuffs is a federal witness. I must get him to Fort Leavenworth alive.”

“We'll be glad to escort you, sir,” Captain Bidler said. “Some more of our outfit will be along shortly. How do you intend to travel?”

“I'll rent a buckboard from the livery,” said Silver.

“I'll send a man for it,” Captain Bidler said. “Corporal Ulmer, take care of it.”

“Yes, sir,” said Ulmer.

As Ulmer was leaving, five more soldiers arrived. Captain Bidler introduced them, and Silver told them as much as he'd told Bidler. There seemed little more to be said, and they waited in silence until they heard the rattle of the approaching buckboard. There were seats front and back, and Shankler climbed into the back. One end of his handcuff was secured to his right wrist, while the other was locked to the iron frame of the buckboard's seat. Silver helped Molly up to the front seat and mounted the box beside her. Captain Bidler led out, with four soldiers riding behind the buckboard and two on either side.

“I feel safe with them escorting us,” Molly said.

“So do I,” said Silver. “We owe Sheriff Benteen one.”

Emo Hanks hurried to a livery, where he rented a horse. There was only a slim chance he could accomplish what he had set out to do, for Fort Leavenworth was less than an hour's ride. Silver would have Shankler there well before it was dark enough for Hanks to make his move. Still, he had to try, knowing Drade Hogan would give him hell if this bid to silence Dent Shankler failed. The soldier escort kept to the open as much as possible, and there was no cover. Not once was Emo Hanks able to get within gun range. He sat on his rented horse and watched helplessly as the buckboard bearing Shankler entered the military reservation. Captain Bidler dropped back, riding beside the buckboard.