Ralph Compton Train to Durango (3 page)

“You've satisfied my curiosity about that,” Renita said. “Now tell me about Silver and Molly Horrel.”

“I've been away for months,” said Wes. “Now we have a room all to ourselves, with a soft bed, and all you want to do is talk.”

“I have plans for more than that,” Renita said, “but first, I want to hear about Silver and Molly.”

Wes sighed. Stretching out on the bed, he told her of the mutual interest that Silver and Molly seemed to share.

“I'm glad for her,” said Renita. “Bryan Silver is the kind of man who would make any woman proud.”

“I reckon,” Wes said. “If he wasn't interested in Molly, I wouldn't want him spendin' too much time with you.”

Renita laughed. “You're jealous of him.”

“Some,” said Wes. “There's just something about him. If I could figure out what it is and sell it, I'd be rich. I just had the feeling that if El Lobo and I hadn't been around, Silver would have had you and Tamara in bed with him. One at a time, or both at once.”

“You won't have to worry about that,” Renita said. “If Molly has her claws in him, he won't have the time or strength for anybody else.”

“You don't like Molly, do you?”

“No,” said Renita. “After your father was killed, she'd have gone after you, if you had not ridden off to Mexico, hunting the Sandlin gang.”
⁷

“Tarnation, she's ten years older than me,” Wes said.

“Nathan was ten years older than Molly,” said Renita. “King Fisher was as old or older than Nathan, and Molly lived with him until they had a falling out. Any difference in age won't matter to a woman, as long as everything works out under the sheet.”

“You can be so damn crude, and without cause,” Wes said. “Molly doesn't even like me. She blamed me for my father's death.”

“Perhaps at first,” said Renita, “but you don't understand women, Wes Stone.”

“Then I reckon it's time I was figurin' them out, startin' with you,” Wes said.

Quickly he blew out the lamp and piled under the covers with her, while in the next room, El Lobo and Tamara still talked.

“I am proud of you, Palo,” said Tamara. “It is an honor to have won the friendship and confidence of such a man as Bryan Silver.”

“
Sí
,“ El Lobo said, pleased. “He bueno hombre.”

In his room Bryan Silver lay across the bed, having removed only his hat and gunbelt. He did not know how long he might remain in Dodge, or what danger he must face in the days ahead. Leaning over, he turned up the lamp's flame. There was a bedside table with a drawer, and within it a few sheets of writing paper and some envelopes with the hotel's name and address. Sitting on the bed, using the bedside table, he quickly wrote a one-page letter. He folded the letter, placing it in an envelope, which he then addressed to Molly Horrel in El Paso. Removing his wallet from his coat pocket, he counted out five hundred dollars in currency. Tomorrow, before leaving El Paso, he would purchase a bank draft.

•   •   •

Across the street from the hotel, two men had concealed themselves in the shadows, as Silver, Wes, El Lobo, Tamara, and Renita had left the cafe.

“By God, it's them,” said Olson. “We could gun them down from here.”

“And have the law after us,” Baker said. “We'll wait for a better time and place.”

“Him and that damn Indian has got to die,” said Olson. “I ain't forgettin' how they took our horses in the mountains, leavin' us to hoof it two hundred miles back to Santa Fe.”

“I ain't forgot,” Baker said, “but I ain't forgot they can shoot like hell wouldn't have it. They ain't short-horns, either. We was all set to bushwhack them, when they got ahead of us, got the drop, and took our horses. We got to be careful.”
⁸

•   •   •

Silver was dressed, shaved, and ready to go when Wes knocked on his door.

“I know we aimed to leave at first light,” said Silver, “but I have some business with a bank, and I must post a letter. We'll be maybe two hours later than planned.”

“Might be just as well,” Wes said. “I'm ready, and so is El Lobo, but not so with our women. After near two weeks of sleeping on the ground, they were ready for a bed.”

Silver laughed. “I don't reckon you and El Lobo keeping them awake late had anything to do with ‘em not being up this morning?”

“Maybe,” said Wes. “It took considerable time, telling them about the Golden Dragon. That, and we had to bullyrag them some. We told ‘em you'd never seen a naked female before, and you was totally mortified.”

He said it with a straight face, but he couldn't maintain it. Silver paled, and Wes had to laugh at his shocked expression.

“Damn you,” Silver said, “you have your daddy's poker face. He could and would bluff with a pair of deuces.”

“You should have brought Molly with you,” said Wes. “Then you'd have somebody to talk to you.”

“You could be in for some surprises,” Silver said. “Even Nathan didn't understand my every move, and neither do you.”

El Lobo came in, accompanied by Empty, who had been waiting in the hall.

“Tamara don't be awake,” said El Lobo.

“I'm not surprised,” Silver said. “You likely kept her awake all night.”

“Sangre de Cristo,“ said El Lobo, “she keep me awake.”

“Let her rest a while,” Silver said. “I have some business to attend to, and the banks won't open for another two hours.”

“Since we're gettin' a late start,” said Wes, “Renita and Tamara can eat when they're ready. I'm hungry now.”

“So am I,” Silver said. “I can eat now, and again before we leave town.”

“
Bueno
,“ said El Lobo.

With Empty following, they headed for the cafe. They were on the boardwalk, away from the protection of the hotel, when the roar of a Winchester shattered the early morning stillness. Wes stumbled as a slug ripped through his upper left arm, while a second one sent El Lobo's hat flying. Silver had his Colt out, but instead of firing, he had started across the street in a zigzag run. El Lobo was right behind him. Wes remained where he was, for there were no more shots from the bushwhacker. Men hurried from the cafe, and several from the hotel lobby, including the desk clerk.

“Charlie, fetch Doc Padgett,” the desk clerk ordered.

One of the men from the hotel hurried away, as Silver and El Lobo returned.

“The varmint lit out when he saw us comin' after him,” said Silver. “There's an alley with rat holes everywhere.”

“I'm not hard hit,” Wes said. “It missed the bone.”

“Come on back into the lobby,” said the hotel desk clerk. “I'm sure the sheriff will be wanting to talk to you.”

Several blocks away, Baker and Olson crouched in the shadow of a vacant building.

“Damn it,” Olson said, “you missed the Indian. Now they'll be on their guard, and we may not get another chance.”

“You didn't do no better,” said Baker. “You just nicked Stone in the arm.”

“We'd better get back to our roomin' house and stay there for a while,” Olson said. “I look for the sheriff to be nosin' around, asking questions.”

“Yeah,” said Baker. “That old woman we're rentin' from has been askin' around, tryin' to find out where our money comes from. I'm tempted to tell the old bat we're robbing banks and stages.”

When Dr. Padgett arrived, he quickly cleansed and dressed the wound. There was no sign of the sheriff.

“I'm goin' back to my room for a clean shirt,” Wes said. “Then we'll go eat.”

Leaving Silver and El Lobo in the lobby, Wes returned to the room, where he expected to find Renita still asleep. But she sat on the edge of the bed, leaping to her feet when she saw the bloodied sleeve of his shirt.

“You're hurt,” she cried. “What happened?”

“Bushwhacker fired at us,” said Wes. “Silver and El Lobo went after him, but he lost them in an alley.”

Wes hadn't locked the door, and Tamara rushed in.

“I heard Renita cry out,” she said.

“Silver, El Lobo, and I were ambushed,” said Wes. “Nobody was hit except me. I'm needin' a clean shirt.”

“Oh, let's leave here as soon as we can,” Renita said.

“Silver, El Lobo, and me were goin' to the cafe,” said Wes, “and I'm still hungry. Both of you are awake now. Come on and go with us.”

“I must go for my boots,” Tamara said, “and I will be ready.”

Renita wore not a stitch, and she blushed. Tamara laughed.

“I think it take her some longer,” said Tamara, as she closed the door behind her.

“I think so too,” Wes said. “Cover yourself with something, Lady Godiva. I'm half starved.”

“You're making fun of me,” said Renita. “I was about to get up, when you came in, all bloody. You shocked me.”

“I've been bloodier than that,” Wes said. “I don't understand how the Dragon's forces learned we were here.”

“How do you know it was them?”

“I don't know it for a fact,” said Wes, “but who else could it be? I have the name of a fast draw, and while there are some who would like to test me, they wouldn't shoot at me from cover. This varmint just narrowly missed shootin' El Lobo in the head. There's no gun glory, killing from ambush.”

“If they're Golden Dragon killers, they'll follow us when we leave here, won't they?”

“I don't know,” Wes said, “but we dare not overlook the possibility.”

Tamara returned just as Renita was brushing her hair. Wes had already donned a clean shirt, and there was no evidence of his wound. When Renita was ready, the three of them met Silver and El Lobo in the lobby.

“The two of you don't look all that used up,” Silver said, looking at the women. “Wes and El Lobo said you kept them awake all night.”

“We did,” said Renita, “and we'll do it again tonight.”

“Don't get too noisy with it,” Silver said. “We'll all be on the ground, and I'm a light sleeper.”

With Empty following, they again started for the cafe. When they entered, several men nodded to them, having witnessed the shooting. They ordered their food, and when they had eaten, Silver slid back his chair and stood up.

“I have some business to attend to,” said Silver. “All of you can stay here and drink coffee, or return to the hotel. I shouldn't be more than half an hour.”

“That bushwhacker may be looking for you, as well as for El Lobo and me,” Wes said. “Maybe one of us should go with you.”

“No,” said Silver. “I can take care of myself.”

He left the cafe, walking along the street toward the busier part of town.

Denver, Colorado, March 26, 1885

Rance Stringfield was distinctly uncomfortable as he knocked on Drade Hogan's door. He was bid enter, and when Hogan nodded toward a chair, Stringfield sat down. He didn't waste any time.

“The men I hired in El Paso were to telegraph me upon the successful completion of their mission. I have heard nothing.”

“You are sure they've had sufficient time?”

“Yes,” said Stringfield. “They've had more than enough time.”

“They've failed, then,” Hogan said. “I can forgive anything except failure.”

“I paid them with Dragon double eagles,” said Stringfield desperately. “I am returning all the expense money you advanced me.”

“I don't care a damn about the money,” Hogan snapped. “Abducting the women and using them to bait a trap was your idea. Must I remind you that I don't pay for failure?”

“Damn it. I did the best I could,” said Stringfield angrily.

“I don't buy excuses, either,” Hogan said. “You are dismissed.”

“But I—”

“I said you are dismissed,” Hogan shouted.

Without looking at Hogan, Stringfield got up and left the office, closing the door behind him. The girl at the desk in the outer office regarded him with what might have been pity. Stringfield left the building, returning to his room at the Grand Hotel.

“You wanted to see me?” Gandy Franks asked, as he entered Drade Hogan's office.

“Yes,” said Hogan. “You know we lost nearly four million in gold in San Francisco, I suppose.”

Franks whistled. “I knew we was hurt some, but I didn't know it was that bad.”

“Well, it was,” Hogan said. “Not only have those responsible for our loss survived, I have every reason to believe they may be headed here.”

“Damn,” said Franks, “how did they get on our trail so quick? We ain't even settled in good, ourselves.”

“Stone and Elfego each had a woman in El Paso,” Hogan said, “and they were abducted for use as bait in setting a trap. Now it appears that Stone and Elfego have sprung the trap, taken the women, and may be on their way north. I have every reason to believe that Bryan Silver may be with them, for our contact in Washington informs me that he has not returned there.”

“The lot of them lead charmed lives,” said Franks. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want them destroyed,” Hogan shouted, pounding the desk, “if it takes every damned gun-thrower west of the Mississippi.”

“I don't even know what they look like,” said Franks.

“I have a drawing of Silver, taken from a newspaper,” Hogan said, “but nothing on Stone or Elfego. Stone has a hound that travels with him, and Elfego is an Indian. Both of them pack two guns and generally dress like saloon gamblers.”

“I'll need some money,” said Franks. “I'll have to grease the palms of some barkeeps and hotel desk clerks.”

“You'll have it,” Hogan said. “I pay for results.”

•   •   •

Santa Fe, New Mexico, March 26, 1885

Wes, El Lobo, Renita, and Tamara waited at the cafe until Silver returned. Their bill at the hotel had already been paid, so they had only to take their horses from the livery and ride out.

“We're a good three-day ride from Boulder,” said Wes.

“Not if we take the train from Durango to Denver,” Silver said. “We're a little more than a hundred miles from Durango. The Denver and Rio Grande is a narrow gauge line, and the tracks reached Denver three years ago.”

“That might be an interesting ride, if we can take our horses with us,” said Wes. “The narrow gauge is a stranger to me.”

“No reason why we can't take our horses,” Silver said. “We'll need them to ride from Denver to Boulder. Narrow gauge tracks are only three feet apart, compared to four feet, eight and a half inches for standard tracks. Narrow gauge tracks allow the locomotive to take sharp curves with ease. Mighty handy in the mountains of Colorado.”

“I'm not sure Wes should be going anywhere, until his wound's had time to heal,” said Renita.

“Sorry,” Silver said. “I kind of forgot about that. What do you think, Wes?”

“I think we need to get this town behind us, pronto,” said Wes. “If that bushwhacker wants another shot at us, let him follow. He won't find it so easy to hide when he's on our back trail.”

“Take whiskey with us,” El Lobo said.

“Good idea,” said Silver. “Then if Wes gets some fever, the red-eye should take care of it until we reach Durango.”

“Durango sounds familiar,” Wes said. “When we busted into the Dragon's headquarters in San Francisco, that was one of the words we found written on a scrap of paper. That and the names Elias Hawk and Hobie Denbow.”
⁹

“There must be more than one western town named Durango,” said Silver, “but when we get there, we'll look around. Can't be more than a hundred souls livin' there, and I can't imagine how the Dragon would fit in.”

“Why there be railroad?” El Lobo asked.

“There's some silver and gold in the area,” said Silver, “and without the rails, the ore would have to be taken out on pack mules. Wouldn't be worth it.”

Before leaving town, they reined up at a mercantile. Silver bought a quart of whiskey, which he placed in his saddlebag.

“What do you aim to do with that, if I don't get sick enough to need it?” Wes asked.

“If we don't soon destroy the Golden Dragon, I'll pick up three more bottles just like it and get roaring drunk,” said Silver. “Then I'll go back to Texas, get me a hundred and sixty acres, ten cows, and a bull.”

“Starvation wouldn't look good on you,” Wes said.

“Hell, a man has to put down roots somewhere,” said Silver, “unless he wants to end up like . . .”

“Me,” Wes said.

“I wasn't about to say that,” said Silver, “but now that you mention it, I reckon it's pretty much the truth. What do you intend to do? A few more years—less than ten, I'd say—and the frontier will become downright civilized. You can't drift from pillar to post, shooting and being shot at forever.”

“
Por Dios
,” El Lobo said, “what else
hombre
to do? Dig in ground like squaw?”

“I am no squaw, and I do not dig in the ground,” said Tamara.

“Nor do I,” Renita said. “There must be something honorable a man can do, other than shooting outlaws and being shot by them. It's hell on a woman, being left behind and not knowing if her man is alive or dead.”

“I reckon a man that's fiddle-footed and quick with a gun don't need a woman,” said Wes.

“
Sí
,“ El Lobo agreed.

Silver had slowed his horse, falling a few paces behind. Renita and Tamara were silent, but their stormy eyes regarded Wes and El Lobo coldly. Wes felt the need to break the uncomfortable silence, and as so many men have before him, said exactly the wrong thing.

“Once we've whipped the Golden Dragon, I'm thinking of goin' to Washington. What about it, Silver? Could I hire on with the federals, doin' kind of what you do?”

“I'm sure you can,” said Silver. “With your background, I can get you hired to replace me.”

So total was their surprise, Silver's four companions reined up, staring at him. But he didn't laugh or smile, as they expected.

“Hell, I didn't mean I was after your job,” Wes said.

“You wouldn't be,” said Silver. “Once I destroy this conspiracy or it destroys me, I'm hanging it all up and going home to Texas.”

“
Bueno
hombre,” Tamara said.

“He is that, and more,” said Renita.

“Dig in ground, like squaw?” El Lobo said, his dubious eyes on Silver.

Silver laughed. “Only to plant fence posts, Palo. I keep rememberin' those days when King Fisher was alive, when him and Nathan hired a bunch of wranglers and went huntin' wild horses, south of the border. I'm bettin' those horses are still there. With some seed stock, I could have me a horse ranch that would be the envy of all of Texas.”
¹⁰

“Last year,” said Wes, “you told me the United States has a treaty with Mexico, and that it's illegal for Americans to cross the border.”

“We do, and it is,” Silver said, “but it didn't stop you.”

“Damn it,” said Wes angrily, “I had cause, and you know it.”

“Yes,” Silver said, “and I'll have cause too. I want me a herd of those mustangs.”

“All these years you've preached the law,” said Wes, “and now you aim to violate it yourself.”

“But in no way that it will harm anyone,” Silver said. “Mexican people are starving, and you think their politicians give a damn? Nobody owns those wild mustangs. Can you say it's wrong for me to take them, when for the first time since Nathan and King Fisher were there, some of those wranglers will have food in their bellies and a little gold in their pockets?”

“
Por Dios
,” said Tamara.

There were tears on her cheeks, and the look she bestowed upon Silver was unlike any that El Lobo had ever seen. Renita was regarding Wes as though he had done something terrible, and he stopped just short of speaking to Silver in a manner that he would have regretted. Instead, he bit his tongue, forcing himself to speak calmly.

“You're right,” said Wes. “When I crossed the border, I met some of those men who had roped wild horses for King Fisher and my father. They remembered, for they were as poor then as they are now. I can't fault you for crossing the river. If that's the best law Washington can come up with, I reckon I wouldn't be satisfied there. Your idea of pullin' out just comes as a surprise.”

“I reckon,” Silver said, “but I started considering it, right after that bushwhacker cut down on us in San Francisco. The appeal of it grew stronger as I stood over Tom Rigger's grave.”
¹¹

“A lot must have happened in San Francisco that you never told us,” said Renita, her eyes on Wes.

“Some of it you don't want to know,” Wes said.

“While we've been discussing the pros and cons of roping wild mustangs in Mexico, our own horses have had a chance to rest,” said Silver. “Now we'd better ride if we aim to reach Durango today.”

•   •   •

Olson and Baker watched as Silver, Wes, El Lobo, Renita, and Tamara left Santa Fe, riding northwest.

“There goes our chance, unless we follow them,” Olson said.

“I ain't forgettin' what happened the last time we followed them,” said Baker. “We had to walk all the way from the San Juans, without grub.”

“There was a price on their heads,” Olson said. “Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“We know why that is,” said Baker. “They're hard as hell to kill, and I don't aim for them to have another shot at me.”

Olson shrugged his shoulders. Bounty hunting had lost its appeal.

•   •   •

Durango, Colorado, March 26, 1885

Empty generally ran on ahead of the horses, but he paused when he heard a distant whistle. He disliked railroad locomotives as much as he disliked steamboats.

“We're still quite a ways from town,” said Silver. “The wind's from that direction.”

“That train's arriving or leaving,” Wes said, “and if it's leaving, it'll be gone before we can get there.”

“No matter,” said Silver. “I reckon we should spend a night there and see if there's a reason why the name of the town—if it was this town—was written on a scrap of paper in San Francisco.”

“More important,” Wes said, “I'd like to know if Elias Hawk and Hobie Denbow are here, and if they are, why.”

“
Sí
,“ said El Lobo. “Kill.”

“I reckon you and El Lobo had some trouble with them before,” Silver said.

“We did,” said Wes. “They chained us, along with some other
hombres
in a worked-out mine, digging low-grade ore. When we escaped, we should have gut-shot ‘em both.”
¹²

“
Sí
,” El Lobo said.

The sun had long since disappeared behind western peaks when they were at last able to see the distant town. The first stars had already blossomed in the purple of the sky, and a few pinpoints of light winked at them from various windows.

“We'd better check with the railroad before we do anything else,” Silver said. “We'll be needing a boxcar for our horses.”

There was no depot as such. A refurbished boxcar sat on a side track, and just above the DENVER AND RIO GRANDE logo, someone had hand-lettered BUSINESS OFFICE. Farther down the side track was a line of boxcars and ore cars.

“This is not end-of-track,” said Wes. “The main line goes farther south.”

“It will eventually reach Santa Fe,” Silver said, “if the mines continue to prosper. Let's go ahead and pay for our passage to Denver.”

A conventional door had been cut into the side of the boxcar office, and beside the door a bracket lamp burned. Wes nodded to El Lobo. He would remain with Tamara, Renita, and the horses. Wes and Silver entered the office.

“Use of a boxcar to Denver will cost you fifty dollars,” said the agent in charge. “First-class passenger coach fare is forty-two dollars. Train leaves in the morning at ten. Have your horses here not later than half-past nine.”

Wes dropped thirteen double eagles on the counter. Only when they had returned to their horses did Silver speak.

“I owe you for my fare and for half the boxcar fee.”

“No,” Wes said.

Silver said nothing. Mounting their horses, they rode on to what appeared to be the town's only hotel. It was a strung-out, one-story building of peeled logs. Instead of an office, there was only a window that opened to the outside.