The Dawn of Fury (79 page)

“Meanin' that from now on, he'll be expecting us to head him off before he can reach Indian Territory,” said Logan Beckwith. “Hell, they can ride all night and get around us in the dark. They can sneak into Indian Territory over a stretch of near three hundred miles.”

“I've never seen such a slippery bastard,” Chad Blake said. “At every turn, he knows what we're doing. Amigos, we done hired ourselves out for a job that can't be done.”

Most of the others agreed with him, leaving Nathan in a quandary. He had no answers for them, none for Joel Netherton, none for himself. He couldn't quit, however, and he spoke to them with a conviction that he did not, could not, feel. He began slowly, trying to buy himself some time, and even as he spoke, inspiration came to him.

“There's still something we haven't tried, and I'm ashamed of myself for not having thought of it sooner. We're going back to Fort Dodge and I'm going to be on that telegraph key for a while. When I talk to you again—maybe tonight—I expect to have the kind of edge we've needed all along.”

Reaching Fort Dodge, he dismissed the men and went directly to Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton's office.

“Sir,” he said, “if I'm not asking too much, I'd like the use of the telegraph for a while. Perhaps as long as two hours. I know the code, and I can send much faster than I can write and have it sent.”

“Permission granted,” Hatton said.

Nathan made initial contact, and after relaying a prearranged code, was put directly on a line to Joel Netherton. An hour and fifteen minutes later, Nathan signed off and again spoke to Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton.

“The response may be pretty long. I'll just wait and receive it.”

The officer nodded and Nathan settled down to wait. It took Netherton less than an hour to respond, and not quite two minutes for Nathan to receive the message and acknowledge it. Brief, it said:
Both proposals acceptable.
Proceed. Joel Netherton had signed off with his code.

“I'm obliged, sir,” Nathan said to Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton.

Nathan reached the cabin he shared with Mary, only to find she and Cotton Blossom were gone. He waited impatiently for almost an hour, until she came in, Cotton Blossom at her heels. She quickly noted his mood.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I wasn't sure when you'd be back. I've been to the store for some thread.”

“I wish you wouldn't go out like this when I'm gone. El Gato knows I'm here, and he knows why. Whoever saw me probably saw you too.”

“But how ...”

“El Gato likely has men slip into the fort to look and listen. All of them, except for Dade Withers, would recognize you and me.”

“Oh, God,” she cried, “now they'll find a way to escape you and your men here.”

“They've already done that, because our element of surprise is gone,” Nathan said, “but I've just relayed a new plan to Netherton and had it approved. It will give us the edge we should have had from the start. By striking as late in the day as they could, the outlaws have always used the dark for cover, splitting up and disappearing into Indian Territory. But suppose we had the daylight to ride them down, giving them no chance to rest?”

“You could pin them down,” she said, “but how do you manage that? Darkness comes at almost the same time every day.”

“We can't change the time the night comes,” Nathan replied, “but we can sure as hell change the railroad schedule, forcing El Gato and his owlhoots to stop the train early in the morning instead of the middle of the day. As of now, all Kansas—Pacific trains bound for Hays leave at eight o‘clock in the morning. The railroad counts on forty miles an hour, including the water stops. It's near two hundred and sixty miles from Kansas City to Hays, and that figures out to a little over six hours. The Kansas—Pacific has agreed to change the schedule, having the trains leave at four o'clock in the morning instead of eight. If the trains are on time, they'll be arriving in Hays a few minutes after ten o‘clock, instead of sometime after two. That means El Gato will have to stop the train no later than nine o'clock. It also means there'll be nine to ten hours of daylight, and while El Gato and his bunch can run, they won't be able to hide.”

“You're counting on them riding away to the south. Suppose they don't?”

“They'll have to,” said Nathan, “because the guards from the train will be pursuing them. Each of the guards riding the train will have two horses. They can change horses often, not allowing the outlaws or their mounts to so much as stop for water. With nine to ten hours of daylight ahead of them, El Gato and his renegades won't be able to escape us.”

“They can still split up.”

“Then so can we,” Nathan said. “My outfit can match them man for man, and so can the other force that will pursue them from the train.”

“Oh, I hope it works out as you have it planned,” Mary said. “I'm just so tired of waiting, worrying, and wondering.”

The change in the train schedules had a profound effect on the robbers for a while. They finally struck again on March fourth, and to the surprise of everybody, they stopped the train before it reached Abilene. The guards from the train pursued the outlaws south, toward Wichita, only to have the wily El Gato lay an ambush in which three of the railroad guards were wounded. Far to the west—a hundred and seventy miles—Nathan and his men were unable to help because of the distance.

Due to a lack of graze, livestock at Fort Dodge had to be grained, and on days when the weather permitted, a soldier escort was provided for those who had the time to graze their horses along the river. Mary's horse and Nathan's packhorse had been left at Eppie Bolivar's, but Mary, tired of the confines of the fort, often walked along the river while the horses grazed. It was a custom that El Gato's men were quick to discover, but Mary Stone was there only on the days when Nathan was away. That suited El Gato perfectly, for if he took the woman, would Nathan Stone not follow?

In Kansas City, Joel Netherton was trapped in the office of the Kansas—Pacific's board of directors. Combs and Isaacs had already raked him over the coals. Now it was Bolton's turn.

“Mr. Netherton,” Bolton said, repeating the argument Netherton had heard twice, “it was our impression that this gunman, Nathan Stone, is a man who gets things done. We allowed him two months. Today is March eighth, so one of those months is gone. All we have to show for it is a pair of train holdups, a lost payroll, and three wounded men for whom we've paid medical expenses. Who
are
these outlaws, for God's sake? Do they walk on water?”

“I wouldn't be surprised,” said Netherton shortly.

There was more, but Netherton withstood it. Finally he escaped, and when he returned to his office, there was a telegram from Nathan Stone. He read it, then read it again. Stone was coming to Kansas City on Monday, March eleventh. But why? There was a kind of finality to the message, as though Nathan had stepped across some line that only he could see.

“But why must you go to Kansas City?” Mary asked. “Can't you work everything out over the telegraph, as you've been doing?”

“Not this time, Mary,” said Nathan. “I'll have some answers by the time I return. I'm riding to Hays on Monday, and I'll take the train from there.”

Nathan left his horse at the livery in Hays and took a room for the night in a boardinghouse where he had stayed before. The train would return to Kansas City at four o'clock in the morning. Nathan avoided the saloons, the newspaper office, and Donaldson at the Kansas—Pacific dispatch office. He ate a lonely supper and returned to his room. He shucked his hat and boots, and hung his pistol belt on the brass bedpost. He then stretched out on the bed and began sorting out his thoughts. Reaching up, he took the gunbelt, and from the holsters he removed the twin Colts. He border-shifted the weapons from hand to hand, testing their balance, feeling them come alive. There was a tingling in the tips of his fingers and a similar one crept up his spine, as though he had been long dead and life were being restored. Now he knew, with total clarity, why he was going to see Joel Netherton and what he intended to do.

Nathan thought next of Mary, of when he had first seen her, and that snowy night in January when he had returned for her. Had he known her only thirteen months? It seemed much longer. As he thought of her becoming part of his life, it was as though his mind's eye were seeing them both from some higher plane. Like a bolt from the blue came the realization of what had happened to him and why. It had started when Eulie Prater had been killed. The flames of guilt had crackled higher with Lacy Mayfield's death, and finally, after Viola Hayden's terrible act of vengeance, he had been consumed. From the ashes had risen a new Nathan Stone: slow to anger, timid, maybe a little afraid. His mind's eye watched this new Nathan prance around for months, seeking to find the last of seven killers, and, finding him, failing to go after him with the same swift justice he had meted out to the others.