Ralph Compton Train to Durango, page 14
Dent Shankler, who had once been in charge of the Dragon’s forces in Carson City, knocked on Drade Hogan’s door. Hogan bid him enter, and he did so, closing the door behind him. Hogan nodded to a chair and Shankler sat down.
“You served us well in Carson City, and I’m about to ask you to perform an even greater service,” Hogan said.
“I’ll do the best I can,” said Shankler cautiously.
“Splendid,” Hogan said. “Do you know of one other within our ranks with whom you’d prefer to work?”
“Turk Pardue,” said Shankler. “He was with me in Carson City.”
“Get him,” Hogan said, “and both of you report back to me.”
• • •
Gandy Franks sat on his sagging bed in the room he had rented in a rundown rooming house. He reached for the bottle on the floor, found it empty, and cursed under his breath. Nervously he counted his money. There was a little more than five hundred dollars. Since his fall from grace, he had forsaken all his dreams. Now he was obsessed with the will to live, and the killers he had so often hired and sent after others would soon be coming for him. He couldn’t afford to run and hide with the little money in his pocket, and suddenly, as though by inspiration, he thought of something. Frantically he searched through all the assorted papers in his wallet, coming up with a blank check. The bank was in Kansas City, so he would have to travel there first. He swallowed hard. If he wasn’t doomed already, he would seal his fate when he took unauthorized funds from the Golden Dragon’s account. He took a traveling case with his few clothes and went in search of a livery. He must have a horse and saddle. While the nearest railroad was in Boulder, it was also the most obvious. He would ride to Cheyenne, and from there, take the Union Pacific.
• • •
Shankler and Pardue returned to Drade Hogan’s office within the hour.
“I suppose you recall the troublesome gunmen who helped to spoil our operation in Mexico, New Orleans, Carson City, and San Francisco,” Hogan said.
“Only too well,” said Shankler. “Wes Stone and Palo Elfego. They’re still on the loose, are they?”
“Worse than that,” Hogan said. “They now have Bryan Silver with them, and he’s their equal with a Colt revolver or a Winchester.”
“So you want us to find and dispose of them,” said Pardue.
“Finding them won’t be difficult,” Hogan replied. “They’re in Dodge. Disposing of them may be another matter entirely, and it seems they’re daring us to come after them. They have considerable influence there, including a friendly sheriff. We hired a dozen man-killers from Indian Territory. Three of them were captured during a failed ambush, and they’re in the jail at Dodge, facing the rope. The rest of them have ridden to parts unknown.”
“Before we jump in over our heads,” said Shankler, “do you have any advice for us?”
“Yes,” Hogan said. “Avoid use of the telegraph. Stone sends and receives Morse as well or better than any man alive. The only other thing that might be helpful to you is the fact that Stone’s likely the fastest gun west of the Mississippi. He’s become a target for all the would-be gun-slicks who are ready to kill him and assume his reputation. His latest victim was Gabe Wilkins.”
Shankler whistled. “I knew Wilkins. He killed his share of men.”
“Stone buffaloed him, somehow,” said Hogan. “Wilkins fired twice, missing both times, and only then did Stone fire. He didn’t miss.”
“If that’s the caliber of varmints challenging Stone,” Shankler said, “I can’t see them being of much use to us.”
“They might be useful in drawing attention from you,” said Hogan. “When Stone gets called out, Silver and Elfego are in the street with him. Siding him, but out of the line of fire. Does that suggest anything to you?”
“It does, for a fact,” Shankler said, “if we can track down some of these gunslingers and head ‘em toward Dodge.”
“You know where Mobeetie, Texas, is?” Hogan asked.
“Just barely in north Texas,” said Shankler. “A wide place in the trail.”
“The young man you’ll be looking for is Curly Dismukes,” said Hogan. “He has the rare distinction of having called out Wes Stone and lived to talk about it.”
“Then he ain’t gonna be anxious to try it again,” Pardue said.
Hogan laughed. “Word has it that Dismukes is ready to ride back to Dodge right now, even before his wound has healed. He’ll be interested in anything you can suggest that might give him an edge. Use him any way you see fit, and if he’s reluctant, sweeten the pot with five hundred dollars. It’ll be worth twenty times that, if he kills Stone. But if it goes the other way, and Stone guns him down, we haven’t lost a thing. In this bag is your expense money. Ten thousand, in double eagles.”
“Our double eagles, or real ones?” Shankler asked.
“The real ones,” said Hogan, not in the least disturbed. “From now on, we’re going to be much more careful.”
Taking the canvas sack, Shankler and Pardue left Hogan’s office. When they had gone. Hogan took stationery and envelopes from a desk drawer and began writing. There were two thorns in his side that were becoming more painful by the day. Gandy Franks had, he was sure, decided to run for it. He had little doubt that Morton Tindall, in Kansas City, would be of like mind. In the letters he was writing, he placed a ten-thousand-dollar reward—dead or alive—on the heads of Franks and Tindall. Hogan had been toying with the idea of sending Franks to Durango, to confer with Elias Hawk and Hobie Denbow. Now he could think of nobody in whom he could trust for so important a mission. He would go himself, for much depended on what Hawk and Denbow had accomplished.
• • •
Mobeetie, Texas, April 10, 1885
Shankler and Pardue could have taken the train from Boulder to Dodge, and from there ridden horseback to Mobeetie, but they did not. Instead, they saddled their horses, placed a Winchester in their saddle boots, and rode directly from Denver to Mobeetie.
“So what if we’d of got off the train in Dodge?” Pardue complained. “Stone and none of his friends know us.”
“Maybe not,” said Shankler, “but they’ll be watching the trains. You can be damn sure they’d be suspicious of us. We got to handle this so we got Dismukes facin’ Stone without Stone or none of his compadres knowin’ we’re around.”
Pardue laughed. “While Stone’s shootin’ Dismukes full of holes, you and me can be cuttin’ down Silver and Elfego.”
“You’re gettin’ the idea,” said Shankler. “All we got to do is convince Dismukes that he can’t lose.”
Mobeetie consisted of a rundown hotel, a livery and blacksmith shop, a mercantile, a cafe, and an enormous building with PANHANDLE SALOON in foot-high red letters across the front.
“We’ll try the saloon first,” Shankler said.
It was early afternoon, and except for a barkeep the establishment was deserted.
“Couple of beers,” said Shankler.
The drinks came, and Shankler downed half of his before he spoke again.
“We’re lookin’ for a young gent name of Curly Dismukes,” Shankler said. “Know him?”
“He’s nursin’ a gunshot wound,” said the barkeep cautiously. “You here to finish the job?”
Shankler laughed. “We’re here to pay him some money, unless you figure he don’t need it.”
“He needs it,” the barkeep said. “His bar tab ain’t goin’ no higher till he pays. You’ll find him at the hotel.”
Shankler pounded on the door, and curses from inside told them Dismukes had likely been awakened from drunken sleep. But he was sober enough to stand away from the door, his Colt drawn and cocked, until Shankler and Pardue were inside. Dismukes wore only his trousers, and his hair curled in unruly tufts all over his head.
“What do you want of me?” Dismukes growled. “You the law?”
“No,” said Shankler. “I’m Shankler, and he’s Pardue. We got three reasons for us bein’ here. We want you to do yourself a favor and us a favor. We don’t expect a man to work for nothin’. We’ll pay you five hundred dollars to do what you’re plannin’ to do anyway.”
“Tell me,” Dismukes said sourly.
“You aim to gun down Wes Stone,” said Shankler.
“Yes,” Dismukes said, “and I won’t take money for that. It’s a personal thing.”
Shankler laughed. “Sure it is, just like the five hundred we’re offering you. Nobody will know of it except you and us, and you’ll still get the credit for gunnin’ down Stone.”
“You want him dead, why don’t you bushwhack him?” Dismukes asked. “It won’t cost you nothin’ except a couple of slugs.”
“Because we’re wanted in Kansas, and we can’t afford a run-in with the law,” Shankler said, “but there ain’t a law that stands in the way of you callin’ him out and gunnin’ him down.”
“Just like there ain’t no law agin Stone gunnin’ me down,” said Dismukes. “Why don’t one of you call him out and do your own killin’?”
“Neither of us is his equal with a gun,” Pardue said. “You’re a real gun-thrower, and nothin’ less will be enough to salt down this hombre.”
Dismukes laughed. “Scairt of him, huh?”
“Damn right,” said Shankler. “The gun-thrower that drops Stone will have some big boots to fill. There’s others like you, so we’ll track down some of them, since you ain’t interested in our deal.”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” Dismukes said. “I just can’t figure why you’re payin’ me to gun down a man I plan to kill anyway. If you ain’t picky about how he dies, why don’t you set up an ambush and shoot him in the back?”
Shankler laughed. “Stone ain’t an easy man to bushwhack. He just walked away from one without a scratch, and the three varmints that cut down on him are in jail, facing the rope.”
“Stone has a dog with him, and the varmint won’t let you get close enough for bushwhacking,” Pardue added. “That damn hound will hunt you down in the dark and sink his fangs into you like a lobo wolf.”
“Show me the color of your money,” said Dismukes.
From his pocket, Shankler withdrew a canvas bag. He dropped it on the floor, between Dismukes’s bare feet.
Dismukes’s eyes slitted, his hands twitched, and greed got the better of him. Seizing the bag, he dumped its golden contents on the bed.
“Count it,” Shankler ordered.
“I aim to,” said Dismukes.
He counted out the double eagles in stacks of five. Satisfied that the five hundred was there, he shoved it all back into the bag.
“Keep it,” Shankler said. “It’s yours.”
“You’d trust me to ride to Dodge and keep my end of the bargain?” Dismukes asked.
“When it comes to money or women, I don’t trust any man,” said Shankler. “We’ll be ridin’ to Dodge with you, but keepin’ out of sight. When you decide where you aim to face Stone, we want to know. We want to see him get his.”
“Have it your way,” Dismukes said. “I don’t care. When do we start for Dodge?”
“Soon as you can clean yourself up and get mounted,” said Shankler. “We leave now, we’ll reach Dodge after dark. You can call out Stone in the morning.”
“The barkeep at the saloon says you got a right hefty bar tab,” Pardue said. “That is, if you aim to pay it.”
“I don’t,” said Dismukes. “After I gun down Stone, I reckon I’ll be gettin’ drinks on the house, wherever I go.”
“That and more,” Shankler said. “You’ll be famous.”
Dismukes reached for his shirt, buttoned it, and then drew on his boots. He buckled his gunbelt around his lean middle, thonging down the holster on his right hip. He then drew the Colt and stood there border-shifting it from one hand to the other. Shankler and Pardue said nothing. The ego-smitten young fool was playing right into their hands.
• • •
Omaha, Nebraska, April 10, 1885
Morton Tindall had taken a steamboat from Kansas City to Omaha. There he could take the Union Pacific all the way to California, or he could travel eastward. He still had twenty thousand dollars of the fifty thousand he had received from Gandy Franks, and he thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t given Illivane and his outlaws all the money. After learning that three of their comrades had been captured, he had no doubt that Illivane and the others had scattered like quail. Now he must decide if he was to travel by train or steamboat. Vivid in his mind was the time a train was stopped near Dodge, and a dozen gunmen had shot down Wes Stone and Palo Elfego.22 He would remain in Omaha another day, admitting to himself that he hadn’t the faintest idea as to how he could outsmart or outrun the evil forces of the Golden Dragon.
• • •
Cheynne, Wyoming, April 10, 1885
When he was in sight of the town, Gandy Franks dismounted. Looping the reins over the saddle horn, he slapped the horse on the rump, sending it running back the way they had come. The animal could find its way back to the livery in Denver. By then, Franks would be aboard the Union Pacific, and long gone. He would go to Omaha and from there to Kansas City. He would get the money, if Drade Hogan hadn’t cut him off at the bank, and then travel eastward. Warily, Franks boarded the eastbound, taking a seat at one end of the coach so he could watch the other passengers. He viewed them all with a suspicion that soon became evident, and they returned his stares, adding to his unease. When the eastbound reached Omaha, Gandy Franks was standing by the coach door, waiting to be the first off. To his total surprise, among the people waiting to board the train stood Morton Tindall, looking for the world like a stray dog expecting to be kicked. As soon as the train had slowed enough, Franks hit the ground running. But Tindall saw him coming and took refuge inside the depot waiting room.
“Don’t come any closer, damn you,” said Tindall, a cocked Colt in his hand. “I know why you’re here.”
Franks laughed. “Do you? I’m running, just like you. That whole sorry mess there in Indian Territory was laid to me. I sent you fifty thousand. Was there any left?”
“None,” Tindall lied. “I’m tryin’ to figure a way to get some coin. Got any ideas?”
“Maybe,” said Franks. “I still have a check on that bank in Kansas City.”
“Let’s go there and clean it out,” Tindall said. “You might as well be shot for a sheep as a lamb.”
“I will be shot dead if I’m caught,” said Franks, “and I can’t see you gettin’ a share when I’ll be taking all the risk.”
Tindall laughed. “We’re both in the same leaky boat, amigo. If you can mine some of the Dragon’s gold, go ahead. I won’t expect a thing, and I’ll stay out of the line of fire.”
None of those who were part of the Dragon’s evil empire were known for their compassion and generosity. Franks stared at Tindall, and when he spoke, his voice was cold, his words not so much a question as a statement of fact.
“You got some of that fifty thousand, ain’t you.”
“That’s none of your damn business,” Tindall said. “When Hogan brought me in, I was told to use my own judgment, and I done that. Now, if they catch up to me, my life won’t be worth a plugged peso. You go on to Kansas City and raid that bank. I’ll never stand in your way. I’ll be busy enough, just trying to stay alive.”
The eastbound signaled its departure with a shrill blast of the locomotive’s whistle. Without turning his back on Franks, Tindall stepped out of the depot waiting room. The train was already moving when he swung aboard. Franks watched the departing train until it was lost to distance, and the smoke from the locomotive’s stack had been swallowed up in the blue of the sky. With a sigh he left the depot, bound for the steamboat landing. If his plans fell through in Kansas City, he wouldn’t have money enough to run much farther.
• • •
Dodge City, Kansas, April 11, 1885
Dismukes, Shankler, and Pardue reached Dodge at dusk, as Shankler and Pardue had planned. Shankler spoke.
“Pardue and me will stay out here on the prairie until sometime before first light. You got any idea where you and Stone will face one another?”
“Near the Dodge House, I reckon,” said Dismukes. “There’s plenty of flat roofs and empty buildings where you can see without bein’ seen.”
“We’ll be watching,” Shankler said. “What do you aim to do now?”
“I’ll be spreadin’ the word that I’m back, that I’m expecting Stone to face me at first light,” said Dismukes.
“See that you don’t get too loud,” Shankler warned. “Stone’s the kind that might come looking for you tonight, forcing a shoot-out.”
“I know what I’m doin’, damn it,” said Dismukes.
“I hope the little fool’s still alive, come morning,” Pardue said, as Dismukes rode away.
“I hope he doesn’t lose his nerve,” said Shankler. “Stone’s just pure chain lightning with a pistol, and he never misses.”
• • •
With an eye for trouble, Sheriff Dumery approached Curly Dismukes as he dismounted near the Long Branch.
“I reckon I was expectin’ too much, hopin’ you’d ride out and keep going,” the sheriff said. “You here to cause trouble?”
“Not for you,” said Dismukes.
“You’re a damn fool if you aim to face Stone again,” Sheriff Dumery said. “He won’t let you out of it alive this time, and I don’t blame him.”
“I ain’t lookin’ for no quarter from him,” said Dismukes. “All I’m expectin’ of him is that he meet me on the street outside the Dodge House at first light. See that he gets the message.”
He went on into the Long Branch, and Sheriff Dumery started for the Dodge House. The supper hour was past, and when he knocked on the door, Wes asked him to identify himself. When Dumery did so, Wes opened the door and the sheriff entered.
