Ralph Compton Train to Durango, page 23
Monique and Louise looked at the page from the notebook on which Silver had written an address and a street name.
“That’s across the street from us,” said Louise.
“Bueno,” Silver said. “We’ll pay you for the use of a room facing that street.”
“You don’t have to pay,” said Louise. “There’s an upstairs room that we never use, and it has a window facing the street.”
“Wes and Palo helped us get out of Kansas City alive, after we set them up to be shot down,” Monique said. “They’ve more than paid for anything we have to offer, and that includes our—”
“If you don’t mind,” Wes interrupted, “we need to go on to your place and stake out that house across the street.”
“Yes,” said Silver. “Somebody’s likely to wonder what’s going on outside this livery.”
The house, when they reached it, was two-story, like most of the others in the neighborhood. The interior could only be described as plush, with deep-pile carpets, matching floor-length drapes, and an array of expensive furniture. Silver, Wes, and El Lobo followed Monique and Louise up a winding staircase to the second floor. They had started down the hall when a girl stepped out of one of the rooms, clad only in a towel. So surprised was she that she dropped the towel.
“Priscilla,” said Louise, trying not to laugh, “we’re going to have visitors in the front room for a while. It could be embarrassing, you wandering in the hall stark naked.”
“I don’t embarrass easily,” Priscilla said, “and these visitors all look like they’ve had a roll in the hay. If they ain’t, they’re in need of one. I’m in room ten, gents.”
She left the dropped towel where it had fallen and went on down the hall.
“Damn it,” said Monique, “if she wasn’t the best draw in the house, I’d kick her and her sharp tongue out into the street.”
“There’s a tub for bathing in the last room on the left at the end of the hall,” Louise said. “That’s where Priscilla’s going.”
Silver and Wes looked after the naked girl, and even El Lobo showed some interest.
“Come on,” said Monique impatiently, obviously piqued at their interest in Priscilla.
The last room at the front end of the hall proved to be ideal. While there was but a single window, it afforded a view of the house across the street, where Madame Renae had slipped a message under the door.
“I’ll bring up an extra cot,” Louise said, “and the three of you can remain here just as long as you need to. You’ll eat with Monique and me in our quarters.”
When the two women had gone, Silver sighed with relief, and Wes laughed.
“Desnudo señorita,” said El Lobo.
“Sí,” Silver said. “Just don’t ever get on the bad side of me, or I’ll tell Tamara you’re hiding out in whorehouses, getting an eyeful.”
“We have business here,” said Wes. “When this is all behind us, the less said about whorehouses, the better. Especially where Renita and Tamara are concerned.”
“There’s no use in all of us hunkerin’ before this window,” Silver said. “I’ll watch for a while. Both of you kick off your boots and catch a few winks. We don’t know how long we’ll be watching, and you’d better sleep a little while you can.”
Wes and El Lobo took Silver’s advice, and soon they were snoring. It was late afternoon when a lone horseman approached the house in question.
“You hombres better pull on your boots,” Silver said. “A rider just rode in behind the house. He must have a stable there for his horse.”
Drade Hogan set about unsaddling the horse. He was in a foul mood, for he had heard nothing from the killers he had hired. Despite the fact there was a back door, Hogan went around to the front of the house and unlocked the front door. Immediately his eyes fell on the sheet of paper Madame Renae had slipped under the door. He quickly read the brief message: I don’t know how else to get to you. We need to talk. If you don’t come to my place, then I’ll be at yours before dawn.
It was signed “Renae.”
“Damn that woman,” said Hogan.
He purposely waited until dusk before saddling his horse, and when he went around behind the house, Silver, Wes, and El Lobo were watching.
“I don’t know what his relationship with Madame Renae is,” Silver said, “but I’d bet the farm she aims to give him hell over the use of that key. Come on. We’d better get to the livery and get our horses. We could lose him in the dark.”
“Followin’ him shouldn’t be a problem,” said Wes, “if he heads for the Pretty Girl Saloon.”
“We don’t know that he will,” Silver said, “but I’m hoping he will. That will confirm what we only suspect, that he sent those bushwhackers after us, and the shooting all took place from within Madame Renae’s place.”
Silver, Wes, and El Lobo went down the back stairs and from there made their way to the livery.
“Palo,” Silver said, “it’s dark enough that you can’t be seen. Walk down there to the corner and watch that house. Wes and me will saddle our horses.”
El Lobo did as bidden. Wes and Silver led out all three horses and began saddling them. Quickly they mounted, Wes leading El Lobo’s horse. When they got to the corner, El Lobo swung into the saddle.
“Coyote run,” said El Lobo.
“Lead out,” Silver said. “Take us the way he went.”
El Lobo took the lead. To their advantage, lamplight streamed out of many windows, and they soon sighted the distant rider. It became more and more obvious that he was bound for the part of town where Madame Renae’s place was. Hogan rode in behind the Pretty Girl Saloon, and from the shadows on the other side of the street, Silver, Wes, and El Lobo watched him dismount. He stood looking for a moment before entering the saloon.
“What I wouldn’t give to hear that conversation,” said Wes.
“That won’t be necessary,” Silver replied. “His coming here proves our suspicions are no longer just bare bones. He’s added some meat to them. When he leaves here, I expect him to return to the house. We’ll follow him home and keep watch until he rides out in the morning. We know he once had a suite of offices, and that’s reason enough to believe he’s rented similar quarters elsewhere. Once we know where, we can consider breaking in and looking for evidence.”
“Consider, hell,” said Wes. “There’s no place on the face of the earth that can’t be busted into if there’s a good enough reason, and we have one.”
“Sí,” El Lobo said.
Drade Hogan waited within Madame Renae’s office, while a servant went to fetch her. Theirs had been an ongoing affair, but she had never come to his house or to his office. He had some disturbing thoughts, the foremost of which suggested this wasn’t going to be a romantic rendezvous. When Madame Renae entered the office and closed the door behind her, the stormy look in her green eyes confirmed his suspicions.
“I’ve told you never to come to the house,” said Hogan.
“Since you moved your office without telling me, I had no other way of reaching you,” she snapped. “How the hell was I to know you hadn’t skipped town?”
“You know I’d never go without you,” said Hogan soothingly. “Are you needing more money?”
“You think money’s the answer to everything, don’t you? All I want from you is the key to this building, and I want it now.”
“You’re forgetting something,” Hogan said. “I brought you from California and bought this place for you. Now you owe me.”
“So sue me, and when you leave here, I don’t want to see you ever again.”
“I’ll go,” said Hogan, “and you can forget anything I said about South America.”
“Then give me the key and get out.”
Hogan laughed. “I’ll go, but the key goes with me. My lawyer drew up the contract in a manner that, if anything happens to you, this place reverts back to me. It would be quite embarrassing for you to meet an untimely end, leaving me without a key to my own saloon. It’s all one hundred percent legal, I might add.”
“You’re a fine one to speak of legalities. It was one of your underhanded schemes that brought the law down on me. You brought in a bunch of killers, and when they failed to kill as you’d paid them to, they ran out of here, leaving the door standing open. It was like that when the sheriff showed up to investigate the shooting.”
“The law’s been here?” Hogan asked, alarmed.
“Sheriff Jennings,” said Madame Renae, and then she twisted the knife. “With him were the three men you tried to ambush. The sheriff had a search warrant, and they found the broken glass in the three rooms where your killers were hidden.”
“They can’t prove a damn thing,” Hogan shouted.
It was Madame Renae’s turn to laugh. “Legally, perhaps not, but there’s a lot more to it than just an overly nosy sheriff. He was here only because the three men you tried to kill needed a search warrant.”
“They were here?” Hogan cried.
“They were,” said Madame Renae with some satisfaction.
Drade Hogan just stood there cursing under his breath until Madame Renae interrupted his tirade.
“Damn you, I want that key, and then I want you out of here.”
“I’ll see that you get everything that’s coming to you,” Hogan snarled, “but I think I’ll just keep the key to remember you by.”
“It won’t be of any use to you in hell,” said Madame Renae.
As though by magic, a double barrel .41-caliber Derringer had appeared in her hand, and its ugly snout was pointed unwaveringly at Drade Hogan’s middle.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Hogan said.
“Try me,” said Madame Renae. “I’ll shoot you dead, and then I’ll go free. All I’ll have to do is tell the law it was you who hired those killers, and that you came here threatening me. Now hand me that key, and don’t try anything foolish.”
Hogan looked again into her green, hate-filled eyes and surrendered the key. He turned and left the office, his mind racing frantically, like a doomed mouse seeking to escape a determined cat. Mounting his horse, he rode as fast as he dared without attracting undue attention. He looked back, and just for a moment, he fancied he had seen riders following, keeping to the shadows of the tree-lined street. He rode on, cursing Kent, Hollis, and Bidamer for having left the door open after the failed ambush . . .
“He rides like he expects to be followed,” said Wes, as they kept to the shadows. “I’d say she told him we were there, with the sheriff and a search warrant.”
“Exactly what I wanted her to tell him,” Silver said. “As things now stand, we haven’t a shred of real evidence against him. A slick lawyer could free him in twenty-four hours.”
“He suspects he’s being followed,” said Wes. “He keeps looking back.”
“I’m counting on him knowing he’s being followed,” Silver said. “He’ll hire his killing done, and when it’s do or die—time for him to stand up on his hind legs and be a man—he’ll run like a frightened rat. But he won’t go without his ill-gotten treasure, and that’s when we’ll get him.”
“Shankler talk,” said El Lobo. “That not be evidence?”
“In the long run, it will be,” Silver said, “but until we build a stronger case, it would only be Shankler’s word against Hogan’s.”
Silver, Wes, and El Lobo reined up in the shadows, well before reaching the big Hogan house. They could see Hogan in the starlight as he dismounted. He seemed to be watching, listening. Finally he led the horse around the house to the stable.
“The real test comes tomorrow,” said Silver, “when we’ll have to trail him in daylight.”
“We don’t know for certain that he has rented a place somewhere,” Wes said. “Could be that he pulls all the strings from where he lives.”
“That’s generally not the way of criminals,” said Silver, “and almost certainly not the way of this varmint. If you’d hired as many killers as Hogan probably has, would you be satisfied having them know where you live?”
“No,” Wes said, “I reckon I wouldn’t. We’d better be gettin’ back to the house if we aim to get any supper.”
Silver laughed. “The kind of reception you hombres got, I wouldn’t be surprised if Monique and Louise fed you anytime of the day or night.”
“They gave up on El Lobo and me,” said Wes. “That’s why they’ve had their eyes on you.”
“Maybe I’ll sleep in the barn with the horses,” Silver said. “One of you can holler at me if Hogan decides to ride out.”
They went in behind the house, going to the back door as Monique and Louise had suggested. Silver knocked, and after peering out around the curtain, Monique unlocked the door and allowed them to enter. The cooking and dining area were combined. Louise sat at the dining table, sipping coffee.
“I reckon we’re too late for supper,” Wes said.
“Of course not,” said Louise. “It isn’t often we have guests, so we waited for you. Do all of you like fried chicken?”
“Southern fried?” Wes asked.
“Southern fried,” said Monique. “Folks in New Orleans have to eat too. They don’t spend all their time . . . ah . . . pursuing the ladies. Whatever else a woman becomes, she first learns to cook.”
When the meal was over, and they were down to final cups of coffee, Louise spoke.
“You haven’t told us anything about how your investigation is going. That is, if we’re allowed to know.”
“We kind of feel like we have a stake in this,” Monique said, “since the bunch you’re after used us for bait in that ambush in Kansas City. I won’t feel safe until they’re shot, hanged, or locked up.”
“Neither will I,” said Louise.
“I don’t know how we’d have managed to keep a close watch on this hombre, without the use of your front room,” Silver said. “Not to mention the excellent food. While it will be strictly confidential, I think you’re entitled to know what progress we’ve made.”
Silver then told them of their visit to Madame Renae’s, and of their suspicion there was a second key, possibly in the possession of Drade Hogan.
“And when you followed him,” said Louise, “he went straight to her place, didn’t he?”
“That he did,” Silver said.
“This is so exciting,” said Monique. “I’m glad we’re able to help. When this is all over, the three of you can stay here as long as you like. There must be something you enjoy besides chasing thieves and killers.”
“Oh, there is,” Silver said with a straight face. “We can eat Southern fried chicken any time of the day or night.”
When Silver, Wes, and El Lobo returned to their upstairs front room, they could see lamps through several windows of the Hogan house.
“Looks normal enough,” said Wes. “Maybe he’s not as skittish as we think he is.”
“He’s spooked, all right,” Silver said, “but not to the extent he won’t get his hands on as much loot as he can before he runs.”
• • •
Drade Hogan kept well away from the windows. A single lamp, turned low, left most of the parlor in shadow. Hogan sat in a ladder-back chair, a loaded Winchester within his reach. On a small table beside him was a shot glass and a whiskey decanter two-thirds full. He waited impatiently for the dawn, so that he might set in motion his escape, but even the thought of that didn’t raise his spirits. His only consolation was that he had personally shipped another four crates of “machinery” south, to Durango. His goal had been to escape to South America with five million dollars in gold. Now he had less than half that, thanks to their setback in California and the persistence of Bryan Silver and his gun-slinging friends.30
• • •
Durango, Colorado, April 17, 1885
Elias Hawk, mindful that he was leaving Hobie Denbow alone with almost a million in gold, took the train to Santa Fe one day and returned the next.
“I made arrangements for us to leave the country,” Hawk said. “Captain Antonio Diaz will do anything if the price is right. The old pirate’s charging us twenty-five thousand.”
“Not bad,” said Denbow, “as long as he’s floatin’ that ship up here to get the gold.”
“He’ll anchor in the Gulf of California,” Hawk said. “It’ll be up to us to get the gold to his ship.”
“Tarnation,” said Denbow, “that must be five hunnert miles.”
“More like four hundred, travelin’ across country,” Hawk said.
“I ain’t trustin’ nobody to haul all this gold four hunnert miles,” said Denbow.
“Neither am I,” Hawk said. “I bought us a heavy freight wagon in Santa Fe. It’ll come by train, on a flat car. Then you and me will take the gold and head south.”
“I got a feeling we’d better not wait much longer,” said Denbow. “There’s four more crates of machinery at the depot, waitin’ for us.”
“You may be right,” Hawk said. “There’s something damned suspicious about him sending four cases at a time. If these crates have gold instead of rocks, we’ll have enough gold to make our move. Let’s find out.”
Reaching the depot, they wrestled the four heavy cases aboard the wagon. Getting them into the hidden cavern within the mine was a frustrating, exhausting task, and it took them a while before they had the strength to attack the crates. Using the hatchet, Denbow tore the lid off the first crate, and with the hatchet’s flat head, smashed the lock.
“This one’s pure gold,” said Denbow, raising the lid.
Excited now, Denbow attacked the rest of the heavy wooden crates, ripping off the top of each so that he might get to the metal containers inside. Quickly he smashed all three locks and raised the lids. All three boxes contained gold double eagles.
“With these and the two that was already here,” Denbow said, “there’s millions.”
