Ralph Compton Train to Durango, page 16
“I ought to gut-shoot you,” said Wes coldly. “You set me and my amigos up for a bushwhacking.”
“You lie,” Dismukes snarled. “A man don’t get a gun reputation like that.”
“It won’t matter to you, one way or the other,” said Wes. “It’s your play. You can turn around and walk, or you can pull iron.”
“I’ll walk,” Dismukes said sullenly.
But after he turned his back, the treacherous little gunman whirled and drew. But Wes Stone was ready. Drawing his right-hand Colt, he fired once. The slug struck Curly Dismukes in the chest just as his finger tightened on the trigger. His shot splintered one end of a hitch rail. The Colt slipped from his fingers, and he stumbled backward. His knees buckling, he sat down in the street as though very tired. As his blood drenched the front of his shirt, he collapsed on his back, his sightless eyes looking into the morning sun. Aware that Silver and El Lobo were pursuing the would-be killers, Sheriff Dumery had watched the drama unfold between Stone and Dismukes. Wes had punched out the empty casings and proceeded to reload his weapons. Only then did he walk back toward the Dodge House. By the time he reached the boardwalk, Renita was running to meet him.
Silver and El Lobo reached the building from which Shankler had fired, only to find no sign of the gunman.
“He was shooting from the roof,” said Silver. “Now he’s trying to work his way back to his horse. I’ll continue searching this alley, and you take the one across the street.”
Drawn by the gunfire, there were men on the street, but they scattered quickly when they saw El Lobo and Silver coming with Colts in their hands. Silver ducked between a cafe and a barbershop, neither of which was open. Coming into the alley, Silver’s eyes were on the roofs of several buildings from which the shots might have come. Some fifty yards away, Dent Shankler found himself in trouble. He and Pardue had left their horses in the alley behind the deserted building where Pardue had concealed himself. Shankler was about to run for it, when he saw El Lobo disappear into that very alley. The damn Indian was sure to discover his and Pardue’s mounts! But there was a more immediate danger. Bryan Silver was coming down the alley on the run. Shaken by his unbelievably bad luck, Shankler fired at Silver, but the hurried shot went wild. Silver fired twice, the slugs tearing splinters from a building’s wall just above Shankler’s head. Knowing he was lost without his horse, Shankler made a run for it into the street where Curly Dismukes had died only moments before. Silver fired again. The slug slammed into the stock of Shankler’s Winchester, ripping the weapon from his hand. Drawing his Colt, he turned and fired, only to have the shot go wild. Silver was still coming! Terrified, breathing hard, Shankler made it into the alley where he and Pardue had left the horses, and he couldn’t believe his eyes. The horses were gone, and just ahead of him, El Lobo waited.
“Damn you,” Shankler sobbed.
He fired, and the slug whipped through the sleeve of El Lobo’s shirt. Seemingly in no hurry, El Lobo drew and fired once. Shankler was struck high in the right shoulder, near the collarbone, and the force of it turned him around. He fell to his knees, dropping his Colt. He started to reach for the weapon, only to have Silver fire and send it skittering out of his reach.
“That’s enough,” said Silver. “Get up.”
“I . . . I can’t,” Shankler mumbled.
El Lobo had hidden the horses belonging to Shankler and Pardue. Now he led them down the alley. Saying nothing, the Indian nodded toward the wounded Shankler.
“In the saddle,” Silver ordered, “unless you’d rather be tied across it belly-down.”
Sheriff Dumery arrived just as the wounded would-be killer was mounting his horse.
“I searched the varmint Stone shot off the balcony,” said the sheriff. “Wasn’t nothin’ on him but four hundred dollars in gold coin, and I found five hundred on Dismukes. Glad you took this coyote alive. Maybe he can tell us what the connection is.”
“I’m tellin’ you nothin’,” the wounded Shankler growled.
“I think you will,” Silver said. “It’s that, or we’ll send you back to Denver and drop you in the midst of the bastards that sent you.”
“Bueno,” said El Lobo.
“Wes wasn’t hit, I reckon,” Silver said.
“Not a scratch,” said Sheriff Dumery. “I never seen such shootin’ in my life. I believe, after he shot that hombre off the balcony, he could still have gunned down Curly Dismukes before the kid got off a shot. How old is Stone?”
“In gun years, about thirty,” Silver replied. “You need some help gettin’ this bastardo to jail?”
“I can manage,” said Sheriff Dumery. “I’ll have the doc patch him up. When do you want to question him?”
“Later today,” Silver said. “Keep him under armed guard until then.”
“All of you can go to hell,” said Shankler defiantly.
“That’s where you’d be right now, if we didn’t need some answers,” Silver said. “Palo, I want to congratulate you on taking him alive. Dirty bushwhacker that he is, I’m tempted to gut-shoot him myself.”
Sheriff Dumery mounted one of the horses, and with the wounded, unarmed Shankler on the other, started for the jail. Silver and El Lobo crossed the street, bound for the Dodge House. The bodies of the two dead men had been removed, and men stood about in awed silence, their curious eyes on those about whom they had heard so much, yet knew so little. Silver and El Lobo looked neither to the left or right. Reaching the Dodge House, they found Wes, Renita, Tamara, and Molly outside, waiting for them.
“I wasn’t going to wait for you much longer,” said Wes. “I’m hungry.”
“You ungrateful coyote,” Silver said in feigned anger, “where were you when Palo and me were tracking down that other bushwhacker?”
“I had a gunfight on my hands,” said Wes. “Besides, there are two of you, and I had no idea you needed help. Did you?”
“Madre mia,” El Lobo said.
It was a perfectly ridiculous conversation, but in the aftermath of what might have been a tragedy, they needed to laugh. And they did, making their way to Delmonico’s for breakfast. Not until they had eaten were the events of the morning mentioned.
“Later this afternoon,” said Silver, “we’re going to have a serious talk with the varmint Sheriff Dumery’s taken to jail. Palo could have killed him, but only wounded him. Injun, you have the makings of a lawman.”
El Lobo laughed, and Tamara beamed.
“I hope you cautioned the sheriff not to lock him in an open cell,” Wes said. “They’ll get to him just as they got to our captives in California.”24
“I think Sheriff Dumery is aware of the danger of that,” said Silver, “but I’ll make it a point to talk to him before I return to the Dodge House. We’ll wait about questioning the captive until the doc’s tended his wound.”
“That’ll be interesting,” Wes said. “You really expect him to talk?”
“Not until he’s more afraid of us than he is of the Golden Dragon,” said Silver. “We’ll wait and see. Whether he does or doesn’t, I have plans for him.”
“Then you’d better make your move before word of this gets back to Denver,” Wes said. “Dodge used to have a weekly newspaper. I wonder what became of it?”
“I have no idea,” said Silver.
At that point, Foster Hagerman joined them.
“Everybody’s talking about what happened,” Hagerman said, “and the town council’s got a mad on. Dodge hasn’t had two dead men in the street since the days of the Texas cowboys and the trail drives.”
“Sorry,” said Wes. “Would the town council have felt better if I had just stood there and allowed Curly Dismukes to shoot me dead?”
“You had every right to defend yourself,” Hagerman said, “and I pointed that out. But some feel that Dismukes wouldn’t have come here—”
“If I hadn’t been here,” Wes finished.
“That’s the talk goin’ around,” said Hagerman, “and some believe there’ll be others like Dismukes, with thoughts of gunnin’ you down.”
“Hell’s fire,” Silver said, “a man shouldn’t have to become an outcast over something not of his doing. Does the town council have anything to say about the two-legged coyotes that tried to bushwhack us?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Hagerman. “There’s speculation that the bushwhackers were friends of Curly Dismukes.”
“That ties it all up with a big red ribbon,” Silver said. “The next gun-thrower showin’ up may have his amigos staked out with Winchesters, like the two varmints that seemed to be sidin’ Dismukes.”
Sheriff Dumery sighed. “That’s about how it stacks up. Some folks has got the idea that Dismukes had the bushwhackers backin’ him, because you and Elfego were there in the street with Wes.”
“I don’t think Dismukes had anything to do with the bushwhackers being there,” said Wes. “I accused him of that, and he denied it. I think they used him, without him realizing it. Sheriff Dumery found five hundred dollars in gold on him.”
“It’s all too deep for me,” Hagerman said. “I just wanted all of you to know that the town council’s got its hackles up. To make matters worse, Ashe Wexler will be comin’ in from Kansas City on the east bound.”
“I reckon that should mean somethin’ to us,” said Silver. “What?”
“Wexler bought out the weekly newspaper here in Dodge,” Hagerman said, “and before he could publish his first issue, he was injured. His horse spooked, and when his buckboard crashed, he was partly paralyzed. He’s been in the hospital in Kansas City, and there was some doubt that he’d ever walk again. I’m tellin’ you this because Ashe Wexler not only owns the paper here, he’s a stringer for one of the daily papers in Kansas City.”
“I see what you mean,” said Silver. “Maybe I can talk some sense to him before the town council gets on his back.”
“Good luck,” Hagerman said. “Wexler’s a Yankee, more prone to the giving of advice than he is at taking it. If his tongue’s loose, and he can hold a pencil in his teeth, I look for him to become the conscience of Dodge.”
“Thanks for the warning,” said Silver. “Before Wexler hits town, I’d better have a talk with Sheriff Dumery.”
“You definitely should,” Hagerman said. “The town council is giving him hell, and when Ashe Wexler gets here, he’ll side with them. Jack Dumery is an old boomtown sheriff, and I don’t expect him to win another election.”
Leaving money on the table, Silver, Wes, and El Lobo stepped out the front door of the cafe. When they were sure it was safe, Wes opened the door for Molly, Renita, and Tamara.
“Why must the newspapers make it hard on us?” Molly asked. “Is there nothing we can do to stop them?”
“Not much,” said Silver. “They see it as their duty to publish the news, and there is virtually nothing I can tell Wexler about the Golden Dragon without revealing the nature of the conspiracy. I regret that I must swear Sheriff Dumery to silence. He’s a good man, and instead of kicking him out, the West should be looking for more like him.”
“Palo and me can go with you if you think there’s any advantage,” Wes said.
“I don’t see any,” said Silver. “Sheriff Dumery knows both of you, and he’s well aware that there may be more gun-throwers looking for you. The trouble is, some long-nosed newspaper editor like Ashe Wexler can suggest that, since Palo and me are always with you, that we’re three of a kind. That would more or less justify Curly Dismukes setting us up with the pair of killers.”
“Perhaps it would be better, having it thought the three of you are gunfighters,” said Renita. “That might be enough to satisfy the newspapers, without them knowing of the Golden Dragon conspiracy.”
“By God, that’s an idea,” Wes said. “If we’re gonna catch hell every time we have to pull a gun to stay alive, then let everybody—including Ashe Wexler—think the three of us are cut from the same cloth. We protect each other.”
“Bueno,” said El Lobo. “It be true.”
“That’s generous of you both,” Silver said, “but you should consider the consequences. With some prodding from Wexler, the town council may order us to get the hell out and stay out.”
“Infierno,” said El Lobo. “We don’t go.”
“That’s our only chance of keeping the lid on the conspiracy that could destroy the nation,” Wes said. “I just hope the damn town won’t come up with an ordinance and lay it on Sheriff Dumery before we can skin the Golden Dragon.”
“It’s all the more important that I talk to Sheriff Dumery before Wexler arrives and begins baying with the rest of the dogs,” said Silver. “The eastbound train will be arriving soon. The rest of you return to the Dodge House.”
“I’m going with you,” Molly said.
“I don’t know if you should,” said Silver. “Our whole purpose in coming to Dodge was to keep you, Renita, and Tamara out of sight, and so out of mind.”
“Well, I don’t intend to run and hide while you’re being shot at,” Molly said.
“That’s how I feel,” said Renita. “If it comes to another fight, I’ll be right there on the street with my Colt.”
“Sí,” Tamara said. “Matar.”
Looking into their grim, determined faces, Silver laughed, taking Molly’s arm.
“Come on, woman. If we have to shoot our way out, I’ll expect you to see that none of ‘em shoots me in the back.”
Wes, Renita, El Lobo, and Tamara went on to the Dodge House, while Silver and Molly started for the sheriff’s office.
Chapter 11
When Silver and Molly reached the jail, the doctor had already been there. The would-be bushwhacker sat on a bunk in the first cell, and he regarded Silver with contempt.
“Close that door to the cell block, Sheriff,” Silver said. “I’d as soon that coyote can’t hear what I have to say.”
“From what you said, I reckoned I’d better keep an eye on him,” said Sheriff Dumery.
Silver nodded, and Dumery closed the door. Only then did Silver speak.
“I reckon you’ve heard the town council’s got a burr under its tail.”
“I have,” Sheriff Dumery said, “and it’s no more than I expected. But nobody’s broken any law except the damn bushwhackers. Dodge is halfway between what it used to be, and what it wants to become, I reckon. Too many second generation folks here that don’t know how it was when Dodge was a trail town, full of brawling Texas cowboys. Do you have any ideas that might let the steam out of folks that’s all riled up?”
“Maybe,” said Silver.
He then told Sheriff Dumery what he, Wes, and El Lobo had discussed, ending it with Renita’s suggestion.
“You’re willing to have it look like you and Elfego are friends of Wes Stone, that the three of you work together for no better reason than wantin’ to stay alive,” the sheriff said.
“That’s exactly what we want,” Silver replied. “If any more killers come gunning for us, let the town think they’re gun-throwers looking for a reputation. I’m in no position to justify these bushwhackers by revealing their true purpose. To do that would force me to make known the nature of the conspiracy that’s about to ruin the nation.”
“I won’t say nothin’ about that part of it,” said Sheriff Dumery.
“We’re obliged, Sheriff,” Silver said. “When all this is done, when we’ve whipped the Dragon, I’ll see that you are credited with assisting the federal government.”
Sheriff Dumery laughed. “I expect I’ll need all the help I can get. I’m obliged.”
“We just had breakfast with Foster Hagerman,” said Silver, “and according to him, the editor of the local newspaper is returning from Kansas City.”
Sheriff Dumery sighed. “That means he’s well enough to start printin’ the paper, and I reckon he’ll be looking for some big news to get him started. First thing he’s likely to do is meet with the town council.”
“Yes,” Silver agreed, “and before he shows up at the jail, I need time to question that bushwhacker in the first cell. If he has anything to say, the last thing we need is for him to say it to a newspaper editor.”
“Then you’d better do your talkin’ now,” said Sheriff Dumery, “before Ashe Wexler gets here. If he’s able to crawl on his hands and knees, he’ll be comin’.”
“I promised Palo and Wes that we’d do the questioning together,” Silver said. “They’re neck-deep in this conspiracy.”
“You don’t have much time,” said Sheriff Dumery. “You’d better question the varmint yourself. But I doubt it will do any good. While we know he was one of the killers, we don’t have a shred of proof. Any jackleg lawyer in the country could force me to charge him or turn him loose. Whatever hand you got in mind, you’d better play it before our sainted editor gets here.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Silver said. “I’ll question him now.”
“Leave your Colt out here,” said Sheriff Dumery.
Silver removed his Colt from the holster, flipped it, and handed it to Sheriff Dumery butt first. Silver started for the door that opened to the cell block, Molly following.
“Molly,” Silver said, “I wish you’d wait here. Besides the varmint I’ll be talking to, those three killers waiting to be extradited are back there. They might do or say something to embarrass you.”
“I’m not easily embarrassed,” said Molly. “I’m going with you.”
Hampton, Lawton, and Damark lay on their bunks in various stages of undress. While Lawton and Damark wore only their trousers, Hampton wore nothing at all. The three of them laughed when Silver and Molly entered the cell block, and Hampton stood up close to the bars, grinning.
