The Union (32 page)

They didn't find any other takers. Patterson and Dietz slipped through the heavy brush and timber up a side canyon to the southwest, finally finding a secluded place to rest.

"Let's wait and watch the surrender while we catch our breath," Patterson said. "No use missing the fun."

They watched as over a hundred scabs marched to the depot platform and surrendered their arms. A loud cheer shook the Valley, echoing up the canyon.

"Shit," Dietz said. His heart hammered inside his chest, banging away a primal rhythm of fear.
 

The union men lined the scabs up and inspected them, pausing to look each man directly in the face.

"How much do you want to bet that they're looking for us?" Dietz asked.

"Not a thing. I agree with you." Patterson stood and picked up his rifle. "Let's get moving."

Keely left the saloon when the scabs marched into town and surrendered. She stood in the crowd, elbow to elbow with the men. Finally she saw Mrs. Shipley and worked her way through the crowd to join her.
 

Keely pressed her hands together, trying to hide the shaking. She scanned the faces of the men on the platform, afraid she might find
him
among them. The union might let most of the scabs go, but they'd kill Mr. Allison and John Dietz.

Lunn jumped up on the platform and inspected the men, looking for weapons, looking for him.

"Don't worry. They won't find him," Mrs. Shipley said softly. "They're much too smart to let themselves be taken prisoner."

How could Mrs. Shipley be so certain that Keely wished him no harm? Woman's intuition, or did Keely have sympathy written all over her face?

On the platform Lunn was shouting. "The bastards must have gone over the hill."

Keely's knees went weak. She nearly collapsed with relief.

Lunn shouted orders dispatching men. "I want every road, path, and buggy trail into Wallace guarded. We'll find them."
 

He turned toward the crowd and caught Keely's eye, smiling at her. She forced herself to smile back, but it didn't reach her heart.
 

Let him go, Lunn. Show me you have some humanity left in you. Maybe then I can learn to care for you the way you want.
 

But a demonic hatred shined on Lunn's face, a manic need to punish.
 

Keely turned away. She wasn't certain she ever wanted to see the detective again, or that she could even face him. Cold, so cold. But she didn't want to witness his death, certainly not the one the union planned.
 

Run, John Dietz. Wherever you are, run.

"You should be in theater, Patterson." Dietz lowered his voice and mimicked Patterson's threatening tone. "Now you take the one on the right, and I'll kill the one on the left." Dietz chuckled. His sides still hurt from laughing at the sight of the last two union dogs they'd encountered sliding down the steep gulch cracking brush and running for their lives, frightened away by the two of them with their guns drawn. The day had held little humor. Dietz took what he could. "You'd think they would have a little more courage—their side outnumbering us by about a thousand to two."

"You would think." Patterson made his way cautiously through the underbrush.

Darkness had fallen some time ago and the going had become more treacherous. Fatigue pulled at every muscle.

Patterson stopped and pointed below into the distance. "The wagon trail above Wallace. We're about a half-mile from Wallace on the depot side of town. If we can hop a train—"

"We'll be home free," Dietz finished. He surveyed the road, trying to get a fix on it. Four small figures carrying rifles came into focus. "Look, over there. Didn't think they'd be foolish enough to leave even a wagon track unguarded." Dietz slapped his hat against his leg. "I'm tired as the devil."

Patterson stood quietly a moment. "What do you want to do? Circumventing them will add miles to our trip—dangerous miles."

"It's dark. They won't be able to recognize us. I say we bluff them. I'm dead tired. The worst they can do is put me out of my misery."

"I'm with you. You take the two on the left and I'll take the two on the right."

Laughter bubbled up in him, splitting his sides. Though he tried to suppress it, Dietz couldn't help himself.

"What's so funny?"

Dietz shook his head. The stress made everything seem funny. "You kill the one on the right, I'll kill the one on the left. Shit, Patterson, can't you be more original?"

###

Keely sat on her bed in a pile of McCullough's things—the real McCullough. She was so weary, but sleep wouldn't come, not until she knew the truth. The private detective, Dietz, had lied to her about so much, had he told the truth about McCullough?
About anything?

She kept remembering the detective's words,
McCullough was a first-class bastard
. He didn't even bother denying he'd killed McCullough.
 

She shuddered, trying to force the brutal images of killings from her mind. On top of everything, he had murdered McCullough, the man she had fallen in love with from his letters. Numbness prevented her from really understanding. In her mind the real McCullough and the detective combined—one man, not two.

But the detective had killed McCullough and assumed his identity. How could it be accidental? There hadn't been time for explanation, but John Dietz had claimed he hadn't meant for things to happen. Why then did he have McCullough's things in his possession?

Could John Dietz have fooled her so completely? Could he really be as evil as it seemed he was?

Patterson swaggered boldly next to Dietz. A few hundred feet more and they'd be in the relative safety of the train depot. The electric lights illuminating the train yard made Dietz nervous. He felt exposed, vulnerable to recognition and attack. They'd walked right past the four union boys without a problem. But Dietz never felt safe with his back exposed. The four union boys hadn't even spoken to each other as he and Patterson had walked past. Too casual.

Dietz glanced back over his shoulder. The two he was supposed to be covering ran over to talk to Patterson's two.
 

"We're in trouble," Dietz said.

In unison, he and Patterson jumped into the waist deep creek that ran by the station. Dietz cursed silently.
Damn, icy water again.
The creek ran about forty feet wide, but darkness covered most of it.

The union boys called out from behind him, shouting for the two to turn themselves in.
Like hell.
There wasn't time to make much distance. They waded to a dark spot across the creek and hauled up the bank into the timber to wait things out as the four men came running around the bluff into the light.

Keely twisted her garnet wedding ring around her finger, trembling, uncertain what she should do, uncertain whose ring she wore, not sure she wanted to wear either man's token. Letters covered the bed, some crumpled in anger, some tear-stained, others merely tossed aside.
 

Oh, McCullough, what a terrible bastard you were!
 

John Dietz had told the truth, the awful, horrible truth. McCullough had had a mistress, one whom he beat and left. One who pressed charges? Was that what sent McCullough her way, his desire to escape the law? Why had he written to her? Why had he proposed?

His letters, the journal he kept, both detailed a vigorous, violent life, and portrayed a man bent on destruction, a man without conscience or compassion. Whatever mysteries his letters evoked, they solved one puzzle—Michael's sudden falling out with him. Michael must have realized the truth about him.

McCullough's words, told in his own voice, repulsed her now. In a way John Dietz
had
saved her, or had he?

She stared at the ring again, beautiful, delicate, expensive. The marriage could hardly be legal. She was Keely Byrne.
Again.
What man would want her now? What man besides Lunn? Why couldn't she cry?

The light of the depot yard surrounded the union boys. They kept looking toward the cliff, their movements comical. Dietz could tell from their puzzled expressions, and the way they gestured, that they thought Patterson and he had disappeared into a crevice or something. But the miners knew they hadn't had time to get far.
 

Look under your noses, boys
.
 

Fewer than a hundred feet separated them. Dietz held his breath, willing himself not to laugh. At last the boys left, running off in the direction of town.

"Probably going for reinforcements," Patterson said. "Let's forget the train depot and move out toward the hotel."

The ease with which they reached the Carter Hotel where the mine owners stayed surprised Dietz, but the reception they got did not. Two owners who had not fled town met with them at the back steps of the hotel. They begged them to leave, fearing for their own lives if they were caught with the detectives.
 

When they had gotten out of earshot, Dietz spoke, "Self-centered sons-of-bitches. It's not like our hides aren't in danger."

Patterson laughed. "Yeah, but we're paid for it. Come on, let's sneak up to French's private quarters and see if Ed Kinney is here."

"I hope he is. I'm hungry as the devil." Dietz followed Patterson into the hotel. "You know, you interrupted my breakfast."

"Yeah? My heart breaks."

The welcome Kinney gave them gave Dietz more pleasure than the owners', but the food Kinney offered stank.

"Sardines and crackers?" Dietz asked.

Kinney laughed. "Haven't had much inclination to go to the general store lately." He shoved a pair of dry long underwear at Dietz. "Put these on."

Dietz laughed again as Kinney handed a similar pair to Patterson. "Sure glad you listened to your mother and remembered to pack clean underwear."

"Who says it's clean?" The humor left Kinney's face. "You boys had better get moving. The union has guards posted everywhere. If anybody saw you come in, it won't be long before they come looking for you."

Minutes later they prowled through the streets of Wallace and headed for heavy timber. They seemed to trek on forever, but at last, about three miles outside of Wallace, up a side canyon to the southwest, they decided to try for a little sleep.
 

Sleep
, Dietz thought. The way he felt now, he would be sleeping through the rest of his life—the rest of his life without Keely. What was she doing now? Was she safe? He said a little prayer—maybe she had rubbed off on him—as he stretched out on the hard ground and closed his eyes.

The sun stood full above Dietz and Patterson, beating down with fervent intensity. Flies buzzed around Dietz, no doubt hoping to land on his hot, damp skin. He swatted at them silently, irritated and tired, eager to get out of the sun. But the shade had its own demons—mosquitoes out for blood. Sticky residue left by aphids covered his arms and face and sleeves where bushes had slapped him as he walked by.

"Where's this German fellow you've been talking about, Patterson? I'm hungry. The crackers and sardines Kinney gave us didn't keep me the night."

"Have a few more huckleberries." Patterson wiped his sleeve across his face, cleaning away the sweat that dripped down.

Wild huckleberry bushes surrounded them. Most of the berries weren't yet ripe. Those that were, were tiny, not hearty fodder for a hungry man. "Sweet as they are, a man could pick all day and not make a meal out of those things."

They came to the edge of a clearing. Patterson stopped and pointed to a small, crude cabin.

"You sure he's not a union man?" Dietz asked.

"He's union, but opposed to the way the union's been operating this last year." Patterson adjusted his hat and reached for his trusty Colt's 45.

"Can we trust him?"

Patterson shrugged. "We'll find out. Cover me."

"Nothing like risking one's life for the promise of a meal."

"You complaining?"

"Me?" Dietz smiled. "Hell, no. Move out."

The German spotted Patterson and stepped out of his cabin, rifle drawn, almost before the first bush snapped beneath Patterson's foot.

"Who's there?" The German squinted into the sun.
 

Patterson stepped out from the forest edge.
 

Recognition flitted across the German's face. "Mr. Allison! What are you doing in these parts? You're a wanted man. Get yourself in here before someone spots you." He waved him over.

"News travels fast." Patterson motioned toward Dietz. "I've brought a friend, Dutchy."

"The other traitor?" Dutchy didn't seem surprised when Patterson nodded. "Well, bring him with you." Dutchy swore under his breath. "What a confounded business this is. If they catch you, you're dead, that much I know. And if they catch me helping you boys, I'm dead, too."
 

Best Dietz could tell, Dutchy looked worried. His gaze kept flitting toward the forest.