Ralph Compton Whiskey River (6 page)

Wolf Estrello laughed. “So you're no better than we are. What do you aim to do, here in Indian Territory, with two females on your hands?”

“We thought we might do the same thing you're doing,” Bill Harder said coolly. “After all, you don't have a government franchise to sell rotgut whiskey to the Comanches and Kiowa, do you? Mark and me can handle anything up to a six-horse or -mule hitch.”

“Compete with me?” Estrello roared. “I have thirty men. By God, both of you will be dead by this time tomorrow.”

“Wolf,” said Stackler, speaking for the first time, “you have maybe fifteen men who will likely pull a gun for you. The others will turn on you, if only to revenge old Jake's death. Wouldn't you say so, Keithley?”

“I would,” Keithley replied, “and Wolf, I think it's time Amanda and Betsy had their clothes returned. I saw you put them in your saddlebags.”

“I'll see that they get them,” said Estrello angrily. “Where are they hiding?”

“Don't you come near us, Wolf Estrello,” Amanda shouted. “We're living up to our promise of five years ago. Let Mark or Bill bring our clothes to us.”

There was no help for it, and removing the rolled-up garments from his saddlebag, he silently passed them to Bill. But Estrello wasn't the kind to take water, and as Bill turned away, Estrello went for his revolver. Mark made no move until he was sure of Estrello's intentions. Drawing left-handed, he put a slug through Estrello's gun hand, and the outlaw dropped the weapon as if it were hot. In an instant, Bill had drawn his own Colt, holstering it when he saw it wasn't needed. Keithley and Stackler were watching Hiram and Odell as though they might take a hand if the other two outlaws bought in.

“Here are your clothes,” said Bill when he reached Amanda and Betsy. “I don't think they can see you from here, but maybe I'd better hold a blanket in front of you.”

“Please do,” said Betsy. “Who fired the shot?”

“Mark,” Bill replied. “Estrello's just learned he's not the fastest gun around anymore.”

“That will help you,” Amanda said, “but would you and Mark go up against Estrello's bunch? It's awful dangerous. It wouldn't be just him after you. The federals will be, too.”

“That was a bluff, threatening to start an outfit of our own,” said Bill. “Fortunately, two of the men Estrello brought with him dealt us a royal flush. We now know that with a little prodding, half of Estrello's outfit can be hazed off in another direction. I think, after he's thought about it, he'll want Mark and me to join him, if only in the hope of gunning us down.”

“Oh, God,” said Betsy, “he'll be looking for ways to kill you. Every time you ride out, we'll remember what happened to Jake.”

“Don't speak a word to Estrello, unless it's to answer a question we've already agreed on,” Bill said. “If he feels threatened enough to take us into his outfit, there's going to be a condition. There's room enough on a wagon seat for two, and wherever Estrello sends us, you'll be going, too. Dangerous, maybe, but no more so than leaving you in camp with some of his outlaws. Estrello could always send away all who might turn against him, leaving you at the mercy of the others. Can either of you fire a rifle or revolver?”

“Yes,” said Amanda. “We learned in Texas by the time we were twelve, thanks to the regular visits of the Comanches.”

They had been taking their time, for Bill wanted to reassure them of the need to join Estrello's gang. When they were dressed, except for their boots, Bill folded the blankets, and they were ready to face Estrello. They found him gritting his teeth, a bloody bandanna wrapped about his injured hand.

“I reckon,” said Estrello when he finally spoke, “you'll need horses and saddles for these troublesome little wenches. I'm figurin' two hundred and fifty dollars per horse and saddle.”

“Then you'd better do some more figurin',” Stackler said. “These are the horses and saddles they rode when Jake first brought them to the territory. Right, Keithley?”

“Right,” said Keithley, “and there's Jake's two Henry rifles and his Colt. All that should go to Amanda and Betsy.”

“I shall make up my own mind what I intend to do,” Estrello snarled, “and I'll listen to no more speculation at my expense. Before I make any decisions, I want the rest of the outfit to know what those possible decisions are.”

“Then let's mount up and ride,” said Mark. “You and your men lead out, and the rest of us will follow.”

It was clearly an insult, and the outlaws took it exactly as Mark had intended. While Hiram, Odell, and Estrello were furious, there was just a hint of a smile on the faces of Stackler and Keithley. Estrello's men watched in silence as the riders approached the camp. They had heard the shot Mark had fired, and their attention was immediately drawn to Wolf Estrello's bandaged hand. Amanda, Betsy, and the two strange riders were careful to remain behind the outlaws. Estrello wasted no time. Dismounting, he turned to the men who had gathered and began speaking. Some outlaws grinned when they learned Amanda and Betsy had been claimed by Mark Rogers and Bill Harder.

“That ain't so hard to figure out,” said Alfonso Suggs. “Let'em take the women and ride out. I wasn't ever in favor of Jake bringin' 'em here.”

“Me neither,” said Burrel Hedgepith, the black man.

“They refuse to ride out,” Wolf Estrello said. “They're threatening to build an outfit of their own and horn in on us.”

“Like hell,” shouted one of the outlaws. He reached for his revolver, only to find himself covered by Colts in the hands of Mark and Bill. Without a word, he let his weapon slide back into the holster. It was enough to convince the rest of the gang, for Estrello already nursed an injured hand, and none of the outlaws had ever seen him beaten to the draw.

“These
hombres
is Rogers and Harder,” said Estrello. “I'm thinking it won't be a bad idea if they was part of our bunch. We all end up fighin' among ourselves, and none of us makes any money.”

“We ain't makin' none now,” Skull Worsham said. “Not after your fifty-percent cut.”

“I'm willing to lower my share to forty percent,” Estrello said. “It would be worth it to get some new teamsters. We're already two men shy.”

“They're bluffin',” said Waddy Jackman. “Ain't no way they can raise an outfit here in the Territory, and they got no mules or wagons.”

“When the need arises,” Mark said, “we'll have riders. As for our wagons and teams, we're figurin' on using some of yours.”

There was surprise on the face of every man in the outfit, and several were violently angry, but nobody made a move toward his gun. Not a man of them wanted to challenge these gun-handy strangers, and they began to understand the predicament Estrello faced. But knowing Estrello, they believed he was taking in Rogers and Harder only to dispose of them at some convenient opportunity.

“All right,” said Estrello, “it's time for a vote. Anybody object to us takin' in Harder and Rogers as teamsters?”

Nobody said anything, although some were obviously tempted.

“That's settled,” Estrello said. “Harder, has you and Rogers got anything to say?”

“Matter of fact, we have,” said Mark. “Wherever we go, Amanda rides the wagon box with me, while Betsy rides with Bill. As all of you now know, they've been promised to us, and we aim to see that nothing happens to them.”

“Take 'em with you, and welcome,” Wolf Estrello said, “but the first damn troublesome mischief they bring down on the outfit, all of you will answer to me.”

The outlaws didn't have a common fire for preparation of food. Instead, they worked in teams of two or three, hunkering down to eat alone when their food was done.

“There'll be food in the wagon Jake drove,” said Amanda. “All those supplies belong to me and Betsy.”

“Bill and me will keep watch,” Mark said. “The two of you search the wagon for grub, and while you're looking, keep an eye out for those weapons that belonged to Jake. I'd bet my saddle some of these coyotes have already claimed them.”

Most of the wagon was filled with barreled whiskey, and there was room for little else.

“Jake's Colt's here,” Betsy said, “but there's no sign of the rifles or ammunition.”

“Come on,” said Mark. “We'll need those Henry rifles and whatever ammunition there is. If Estrello didn't take them, he'll know who did.”

With Amanda and Betsy accompanying them, Mark and Bill paused half a dozen yards from where Estrello stood watching them.

“Jake had a pair of Henry rifles,” Bill said. “We want them, along with any available ammunition.”

“Whoever took them Henrys and ammunition, fetch'em,” said Estrello.

Sheepishly, Phelps Brice and Chad Graves stepped forward.

“We took 'em,” Graves said. “Jake was gone, and—”

“Shut up,” Estrello growled, “and get them.”

The Henry repeaters were brought, along with four tins of ammunition. Bill passed one of the weapons to Betsy, while Mark gave the second one to Amanda.

“Now, ain't that something?” said Dutch McCarty, grinning. “Couldn't neither one of 'em hit the inside of a barn with the doors shut.”

The roar of a Henry seemed unusually loud in the stillness. Dutch McCarty's hat took a wild leap off his head, and Amanda stood ready to fire again if need be. But there was no need. Some of the outlaws laughed, while Estrello seemed not to believe his eyes. These damn women could and would shoot a man, if provoked. Mark nodded to Amanda, and she and Betsy retreated to what had been Jake's wagon.

“Estrello,” Bill said, “if you aim for us to haul wagon-loads of booze somewhere, then it's time for us to know where and when.”

“It goes no farther than right here,” said Estrello. “You take the wagons off the boats at Fort Smith, and bring them here. Our . . . ah . . . clients come here for the product. The day after tomorrow, you'll take the empty wagons to Fort Smith, where you'll wait for their return by steamboat.”

Snider Irvin laughed. “Folks is startin' to call the old Arkansas ‘Whiskey River.' ”

 

Mark and Bill spent the rest of the day near the wagon Jake had driven, cleaning their weapons and watching the outlaws. When suppertime was near, Amanda and Betsy prepared the meal.

“Estrello hasn't told us much of anything,” said Amanda while they ate. “He could be setting us up for an ambush at Fort Smith.”

“He could be,” Mark said, “and we'll have to be ready. It's a risk, but there's no other way. Keithley and Stackler aren't too fond of Estrello. Somehow, we must find a time and place to talk to them, without the rest of the gang knowing.”

“Who were the teamsters from Fort Smith when Jake was killed?” Bill asked.

“Besides Jake,” said Betsy, “there was Jules Hiram, Hugh Odell, Bert Hamby, Alfonso Suggs, Snider Irvin, Elgin Kendrick, and Burrel Hedgepith.”

“Eight wagons,” Bill said. “Always eight? Never more or less?”

“Always eight,” said Betsy, “and a dozen outriders. None of the outriders are allowed on the wagon boxes. It's as though Estrello doesn't trust them.”

“Estrello aims to send the wagons back to Fort Smith the day after tomorrow,” Mark said. “What will he do with all this barreled rotgut loaded on these wagons?”

“Oh, you haven't seen the worst of it,” said Amanda. “Tomorrow the Comanches and Kiowa come to trade for whiskey. They'll trade stolen horses, pelts, gold, silver, and anything Estrello will accept.”

“How many Indians?” Bill asked.

“Five hundred or more,” said Betsy. “Sometimes they'll tap a few barrels of the stuff and get crazy drunk right here.”

“That's a hell of a lot of Indians,” Mark said, “when there's maybe forty-eight barrels of whiskey. Somebody will lose out”

“No,” said Amanda. “Estrello's thought of that. He's set his prices high enough that no single Indian can afford a large amount of the whiskey. They're forced to combine whatever they have to trade and then share as much whiskey as Estrello will sell them. There's a few of the Indians—Comanches, I think—who manage to trade for four or five barrels of whiskey. They load each barrel on a travois behind a horse and haul it back to their camp. Jake always said they would resell or trade the whiskey for ten times what it was worth.”

“Tarnation,” Bill said, “with thirty-six gallons of pure alcohol per barrel, these Indians could stay crazy drunk for God knows how long. If we're leaving the day after tomorrow for Fort Smith, what happens if all this whiskey hasn't been sold?”

“It will be,” said Betsy. “When it gets down to the last few barrels, there'll be fighting over what's left. One Indian tried to trade his squaw for a barrel of the stuff.”

“Makes me wonder why Estrello don't add some more wagons and haul in more of the stuff,” Mark said.

“Jake said Estrello's too smart for that,” said Amanda. “By limiting the whiskey, he's able to demand a higher price. If he brought in too much, the bidding wouldn't be nearly as fierce.”

“With so many men in camp, where do the two of you usually sleep?” Bill asked.

“Under Jake's wagon, when it's here,” said Betsy. “When it's not, we try to hide out in the brush.”

“Then take your place under the wagon tonight,” Bill said. “We'll be close by.”

But to the surprise of Mark and Bill, Estrello had plans for them.