The Dawn of Fury (63 page)

“You got the worst of it,” Nathan said. “That doc's taking his own sweet time gettin' here.”

“It's painful,” said Hickok, “but I've been hurt worse. What about you?'”

“Knife wound,” Nathan said. “I reckon old Juno's hurtin' the most. He won't soon find another bar mirror to replace what he had. When he does, I reckon he'll be payin' for it with our money.”

“Lord” Bill said, “wasn't that the sweetest sound you ever heard in all your born days, that glass rainin' off the wall?”

The doctor eventually arrived, and disinfected and bandaged their wounds. Everybody had been fortunate, for no lead had to be dug out and no bones had been broken. The bunks in the cells were about as comfortable as stone slabs, and nobody slept much. The sheriff showed up early with a proposition.

“Unless some of you varmints is mule headed enough to want to argue with the judge, Juno's agreed to let you loose with payment of damages. He figured six hundred dollars, and that's fifty dollars apiece. Now if there's anybody that ain't satisfied with that, tell it to the judge. He'll fine you fifty dollars, add ten dollars for court costs, and lock you up until you pay.”

Nobody argued with that. They were turned loose, some of the others casting baleful looks at Nathan and Hickok.

“I can bring your horse,” said Nathan. “Where is he?”

“At the livery, near the Albany Saloon,” Hickok replied. “Just leave him there. I have a room at the Tremont House, and I can make it that far.”

He did, painful as it must have been.

“I'll come back tomorrow morning,” said Nathan, “and if you're feeling up to it, I'll buy your breakfast. Do you want me to bring you a bottle of whiskey, in case there's infection?”

“I want a bottle of whiskey whether there's infection or not,” Hickok said with a grin, “but there's a bar in the hotel lobby.”

Nathan went on his way, taking his horse from the livery and riding back to Cherry Creek Manor. Cotton Blossom came bounding out the kitchen door to greet him, and he was thankful for the friendship of Ezra and Josephine and for their affection for the faithful hound. He stepped into the kitchen, aware of a painful purple bruise beneath his left eye and the ripped, bloody sleeve of his shirt. He found Ezra and Josephine at the kitchen table.

“I saved you breakfast, if you want it,” said Josephine.

“I want it more than anything,” Nathan replied. “All I got in jail was a hard bunk, and I paid fifty dollars for it.”

Ezra laughed, and Nathan told them of meeting Hickok, and of the brawl that had erupted as a result of Hickok's pistol work in Monte's Hacienda.

“From what I've seen of Mr. Juno,” said Josephine, “it must have been almost worth fifty dollars.”

“It almost was,” Nathan agreed. “Hickok's laid up at the Tremont House, with three bullet wounds. He could have been killed, and all for nothing.”

“You should have brought him with you,” said Ezra. “I'd like to meet him. We could always send Josephine into the parlor.”

“You could try,” Josephine sniffed. “If someone as well known as he is shows up here, I want to hear everything he has to say. Besides, from what I have read, he can be a perfect gentleman.”

“He can be,” said Nathan, “and he is, while he's sober. He was roaring drunk when he shot up Juno's place.”

“He's still welcome here, if he needs a place to stay,” Josephine said.

“I'm riding in to have breakfast with him tomorrow, if he's able,” said Nathan. “I'll tell him what you said.”

Nathan spent the day resting and went to bed early. He was awake before first light and on his way into town by sunup. He found Hickok stretched out on his bed, dressed except for boots and hat.

“You look ready for breakfast,” Nathan said.

“Hungry as a grizzly just out of hibernation,” said Hickok, “and aimin' to go, if I have to crawl on hands and knees.”

Nathan could only marvel at the man's endurance and rapid recovery. He still limped, but if his wounds pained him, he gave no sign. A restaurant adjoining the Tremont House provided the nourishment Bill so desired.

“I've about had enough of Colorado for a while,” Hickok said. “Another week—mid—July—and I aim to ride back to Hays.”

“Hays?”

“Hays City, Kansas,” said Hickok. “They're holdin' an election for county sheriff in August. I might just have a go at it.”

“I might just ride with you,” Nathan said, “if that sets well with you.”

“Come on, and welcome,” said Hickok. “It's a comfort, having a gent sidin' you that's set with you at the poker table, had his head cracked in your saloon fight, and shared a cell with you in the
calabozo.”

Nathan laughed. He had never known a man like Wild Bill Hickok. After leaving Hickok, he visited some of the shops in Denver, purchasing some new Levi's, shirts, and socks. It was too early for most of the saloons to be open, and there were still a few Nathan had not visited. These were often more of a whorehouse than a saloon. Nathan had heard of Laura Evans's Bagnio, but had never been there. Despite the early hour, the place was open, and it seemed that Laura herself was behind the bar. Nathan thought she must have been an attractive woman once, but the years and her profession had taken their toll. Three men leaned on the bar, apparently regulars, for all were laughing at some private joke. Nathan finished a beer and was about to leave, when something one of the men said gained his undivided attention.

“... glad you got rid of that bastard, Milo Jenks.”

“Pardner,” Nathan said, “I'm not one to butt into a private conversation, but I heard you mention Milo Jenks. I've been looking for him.”

The man laughed. “Ask Laura. She knows him well.”

But Laura Evans didn't think it was funny. “If you're a friend of his,” she said, “get the hell out of here. You're not welcome.”

“Ma'am,” said Nathan, “I'm no friend. He'll wish he'd never laid eyes on me.”

“In that case,” Laura said, “try Monte's Hacienda. The two-faced, two-timing skunk that's calling himself Monte Juno is Milo Jenks. At least that was his name when he first showed up here.”

“I'm obliged,” said Nathan. He tipped his hat and left hurriedly.

The three men at the bar watched Nathan out the door, and the one who had mentioned Jenks spoke.

“I'd say Mr. Jenks has a past, and that some of it's about to make some big changes in his future.”

“Praise be,” Laura Evans said. “Gut-shooting's too good for him.”

Milo Jenks, now known as Monte Juno, wasn't to be found at the saloon, for the place wasn't open. There was the sound of hammering from somewhere inside, and Nathan guessed the upstairs was being cleaned up and repaired. He waited across the street, but Jenks didn't show. He was probably out with Lacy, Nathan thought with disgust. He grew tired of waiting and returned to the Tremont House, thinking he would spend the afternoon with Hickok, but he got no answer when he knocked on the door to Hickok's room. Nathan had his supper in the restaurant adjoining the Tremont House, and when it was near time for the play to begin at the Palace Theatre, he went there. Others were waiting near the stage door, probably for Lacy's arrival, and Nathan joined them. When Jenks drove up in the buckboard, Lacy stepped down. Nathan must wait until she was out of the line of fire, and as she approached the theatre, he started toward the buckboard. Then he shouted his challenge.

“You in the buckboard, Milo Jenks. Get down. I'm going to give you more of a chance than you gave my family, back in Virginia.”

“You got the wrong man,” Jenks shouted.

“No,” said Nathan. “Get off that seat and face me like a man, or I'll kill you where you set.”

“No,” Lacy Mayfield screamed. She ran toward Nathan, about to throw herself at him, when Jenks fired. Once, twice he fired, and the slugs stopped Lacy in her tracks. She stumbled forward and fell face down at Nathan's feet. Jenks fired a third time, but the slug went over Nathan's head. He drew his right-hand Colt and shot Milo Jenks twice, through the chest. The outlaw stumbled back against the buckboard team, spooking them. They bolted, leaving the dying outlaw lying in the dust. Women screamed and men cursed, but Nathan Stone was oblivious to it all. His heart was heavy, recalling the days past when young Lacy Mayfield only wanted to be somebody ...

Every witness swore that Milo Jenks had fired first, that his slugs had struck Lacy, and that only then had Nathan shot Jenks. Lacy's funeral was a nightmare that Nathan Stone wanted only to forget. Wild Bill Hickok was there, and when Lacy had been laid to rest, Hickok approached Nathan.

“I reckon this is a bad time to talk,” Wild Bill said.

“There won't be any good times for a while,” Nathan replied.

“I'm ridin' out for Hays in the mornin',” said Hickok.

“I'll be riding with you,” Nathan said.

Ezra and Josephine Grimes approached, and Nathan found it necessary to introduce them to Hickok. It was a good time to tell them he was riding out the next morning, and he did so.

“We'll hate to see you go,” Josephine said. “Why don't you and Mr. Hickok take supper with us tonight? The both of you can spend your last night with us.”

“I'd consider it a pleasure, ma'am,” said Hickok, tipping his hat.

“Then just ride back with us,” Ezra said. “It's quite a while until supper, but we can put on a pot of coffee, and there's fresh apple pie.”

Nathan was glad to get away from the town, for he had become a curiosity, as people sought to discover his motive for hunting down Milo Jenks. Nathan and Hickok rode their horses alongside the Grimes's buckboard. Trotting along behind was Cotton Blossom, for he had refused to be left behind. However, the enormous crowd had intimidated him, and keeping him out of the church hadn't been a problem. Despite the plainsman's overtures, Cotton Blossom was still wary of Hickok. While the day had gotten off to a terrible start, Hickok was at his charming best and cold sober, and by suppertime, even Nathan smiled at some of Wild Bill's tales. Following Nathan's instructions, Ames Tilden had brought Nathan a thousand dollars from his account.

“Invest the balance,” Nathan said, “and if you go as long as five years without hearing from me, see that it goes to Ezra and Josephine.”

“You can count on me,” said the banker. “If you're needing money fast, send me a telegram. I can arrange for you to get your money from any other bank. Except those in states under Reconstruction, of course.”

“I understand,” Nathan said, “and I'm obliged.”