Ralph Compton Train to Durango, page 4
“I have some business to attend to,” said Silver. “All of you can stay here and drink coffee, or return to the hotel. I shouldn’t be more than half an hour.”
“That bushwhacker may be looking for you, as well as for El Lobo and me,” Wes said. “Maybe one of us should go with you.”
“No,” said Silver. “I can take care of myself.”
He left the cafe, walking along the street toward the busier part of town.
Chapter 2
Denver, Colorado, March 26, 1885
Rance Stringfield was distinctly uncomfortable as he knocked on Drade Hogan’s door. He was bid enter, and when Hogan nodded toward a chair, Stringfield sat down. He didn’t waste any time.
“The men I hired in El Paso were to telegraph me upon the successful completion of their mission. I have heard nothing.”
“You are sure they’ve had sufficient time?”
“Yes,” said Stringfield. “They’ve had more than enough time.”
“They’ve failed, then,” Hogan said. “I can forgive anything except failure.”
“I paid them with Dragon double eagles,” said Stringfield desperately. “I am returning all the expense money you advanced me.”
“I don’t care a damn about the money,” Hogan snapped. “Abducting the women and using them to bait a trap was your idea. Must I remind you that I don’t pay for failure?”
“Damn it. I did the best I could,” said Stringfield angrily.
“I don’t buy excuses, either,” Hogan said. “You are dismissed.”
“But I—”
“I said you are dismissed,” Hogan shouted.
Without looking at Hogan, Stringfield got up and left the office, closing the door behind him. The girl at the desk in the outer office regarded him with what might have been pity. Stringfield left the building, returning to his room at the Grand Hotel.
“You wanted to see me?” Gandy Franks asked, as he entered Drade Hogan’s office.
“Yes,” said Hogan. “You know we lost nearly four million in gold in San Francisco, I suppose.”
Franks whistled. “I knew we was hurt some, but I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“Well, it was,” Hogan said. “Not only have those responsible for our loss survived, I have every reason to believe they may be headed here.”
“Damn,” said Franks, “how did they get on our trail so quick? We ain’t even settled in good, ourselves.”
“Stone and Elfego each had a woman in El Paso,” Hogan said, “and they were abducted for use as bait in setting a trap. Now it appears that Stone and Elfego have sprung the trap, taken the women, and may be on their way north. I have every reason to believe that Bryan Silver may be with them, for our contact in Washington informs me that he has not returned there.”
“The lot of them lead charmed lives,” said Franks. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want them destroyed,” Hogan shouted, pounding the desk, “if it takes every damned gun-thrower west of the Mississippi.”
“I don’t even know what they look like,” said Franks.
“I have a drawing of Silver, taken from a newspaper,” Hogan said, “but nothing on Stone or Elfego. Stone has a hound that travels with him, and Elfego is an Indian. Both of them pack two guns and generally dress like saloon gamblers.”
“I’ll need some money,” said Franks. “I’ll have to grease the palms of some barkeeps and hotel desk clerks.”
“You’ll have it,” Hogan said. “I pay for results.”
• • •
Santa Fe, New Mexico, March 26, 1885
Wes, El Lobo, Renita, and Tamara waited at the cafe until Silver returned. Their bill at the hotel had already been paid, so they had only to take their horses from the livery and ride out.
“We’re a good three-day ride from Boulder,” said Wes.
“Not if we take the train from Durango to Denver,” Silver said. “We’re a little more than a hundred miles from Durango. The Denver and Rio Grande is a narrow gauge line, and the tracks reached Denver three years ago.”
“That might be an interesting ride, if we can take our horses with us,” said Wes. “The narrow gauge is a stranger to me.”
“No reason why we can’t take our horses,” Silver said. “We’ll need them to ride from Denver to Boulder. Narrow gauge tracks are only three feet apart, compared to four feet, eight and a half inches for standard tracks. Narrow gauge tracks allow the locomotive to take sharp curves with ease. Mighty handy in the mountains of Colorado.”
“I’m not sure Wes should be going anywhere, until his wound’s had time to heal,” said Renita.
“Sorry,” Silver said. “I kind of forgot about that. What do you think, Wes?”
“I think we need to get this town behind us, pronto,” said Wes. “If that bushwhacker wants another shot at us, let him follow. He won’t find it so easy to hide when he’s on our back trail.”
“Take whiskey with us,” El Lobo said.
“Good idea,” said Silver. “Then if Wes gets some fever, the red-eye should take care of it until we reach Durango.”
“Durango sounds familiar,” Wes said. “When we busted into the Dragon’s headquarters in San Francisco, that was one of the words we found written on a scrap of paper. That and the names Elias Hawk and Hobie Denbow.”9
“There must be more than one western town named Durango,” said Silver, “but when we get there, we’ll look around. Can’t be more than a hundred souls livin’ there, and I can’t imagine how the Dragon would fit in.”
“Why there be railroad?” El Lobo asked.
“There’s some silver and gold in the area,” said Silver, “and without the rails, the ore would have to be taken out on pack mules. Wouldn’t be worth it.”
Before leaving town, they reined up at a mercantile. Silver bought a quart of whiskey, which he placed in his saddlebag.
“What do you aim to do with that, if I don’t get sick enough to need it?” Wes asked.
“If we don’t soon destroy the Golden Dragon, I’ll pick up three more bottles just like it and get roaring drunk,” said Silver. “Then I’ll go back to Texas, get me a hundred and sixty acres, ten cows, and a bull.”
“Starvation wouldn’t look good on you,” Wes said.
“Hell, a man has to put down roots somewhere,” said Silver, “unless he wants to end up like . . .”
“Me,” Wes said.
“I wasn’t about to say that,” said Silver, “but now that you mention it, I reckon it’s pretty much the truth. What do you intend to do? A few more years—less than ten, I’d say—and the frontier will become downright civilized. You can’t drift from pillar to post, shooting and being shot at forever.”
“Por Dios,” El Lobo said, “what else hombre to do? Dig in ground like squaw?”
“I am no squaw, and I do not dig in the ground,” said Tamara.
“Nor do I,” Renita said. “There must be something honorable a man can do, other than shooting outlaws and being shot by them. It’s hell on a woman, being left behind and not knowing if her man is alive or dead.”
“I reckon a man that’s fiddle-footed and quick with a gun don’t need a woman,” said Wes.
“Sí,“ El Lobo agreed.
Silver had slowed his horse, falling a few paces behind. Renita and Tamara were silent, but their stormy eyes regarded Wes and El Lobo coldly. Wes felt the need to break the uncomfortable silence, and as so many men have before him, said exactly the wrong thing.
“Once we’ve whipped the Golden Dragon, I’m thinking of goin’ to Washington. What about it, Silver? Could I hire on with the federals, doin’ kind of what you do?”
“I’m sure you can,” said Silver. “With your background, I can get you hired to replace me.”
So total was their surprise, Silver’s four companions reined up, staring at him. But he didn’t laugh or smile, as they expected.
“Hell, I didn’t mean I was after your job,” Wes said.
“You wouldn’t be,” said Silver. “Once I destroy this conspiracy or it destroys me, I’m hanging it all up and going home to Texas.”
“Bueno hombre,” Tamara said.
“He is that, and more,” said Renita.
“Dig in ground, like squaw?” El Lobo said, his dubious eyes on Silver.
Silver laughed. “Only to plant fence posts, Palo. I keep rememberin’ those days when King Fisher was alive, when him and Nathan hired a bunch of wranglers and went huntin’ wild horses, south of the border. I’m bettin’ those horses are still there. With some seed stock, I could have me a horse ranch that would be the envy of all of Texas.”10
“Last year,” said Wes, “you told me the United States has a treaty with Mexico, and that it’s illegal for Americans to cross the border.”
“We do, and it is,” Silver said, “but it didn’t stop you.”
“Damn it,” said Wes angrily, “I had cause, and you know it.”
“Yes,” Silver said, “and I’ll have cause too. I want me a herd of those mustangs.”
“All these years you’ve preached the law,” said Wes, “and now you aim to violate it yourself.”
“But in no way that it will harm anyone,” Silver said. “Mexican people are starving, and you think their politicians give a damn? Nobody owns those wild mustangs. Can you say it’s wrong for me to take them, when for the first time since Nathan and King Fisher were there, some of those wranglers will have food in their bellies and a little gold in their pockets?”
“Por Dios,” said Tamara.
There were tears on her cheeks, and the look she bestowed upon Silver was unlike any that El Lobo had ever seen. Renita was regarding Wes as though he had done something terrible, and he stopped just short of speaking to Silver in a manner that he would have regretted. Instead, he bit his tongue, forcing himself to speak calmly.
“You’re right,” said Wes. “When I crossed the border, I met some of those men who had roped wild horses for King Fisher and my father. They remembered, for they were as poor then as they are now. I can’t fault you for crossing the river. If that’s the best law Washington can come up with, I reckon I wouldn’t be satisfied there. Your idea of pullin’ out just comes as a surprise.”
“I reckon,” Silver said, “but I started considering it, right after that bushwhacker cut down on us in San Francisco. The appeal of it grew stronger as I stood over Tom Rigger’s grave.”11
“A lot must have happened in San Francisco that you never told us,” said Renita, her eyes on Wes.
“Some of it you don’t want to know,” Wes said.
“While we’ve been discussing the pros and cons of roping wild mustangs in Mexico, our own horses have had a chance to rest,” said Silver. “Now we’d better ride if we aim to reach Durango today.”
• • •
Olson and Baker watched as Silver, Wes, El Lobo, Renita, and Tamara left Santa Fe, riding northwest.
“There goes our chance, unless we follow them,” Olson said.
“I ain’t forgettin’ what happened the last time we followed them,” said Baker. “We had to walk all the way from the San Juans, without grub.”
“There was a price on their heads,” Olson said. “Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“We know why that is,” said Baker. “They’re hard as hell to kill, and I don’t aim for them to have another shot at me.”
Olson shrugged his shoulders. Bounty hunting had lost its appeal.
• • •
Durango, Colorado, March 26, 1885
Empty generally ran on ahead of the horses, but he paused when he heard a distant whistle. He disliked railroad locomotives as much as he disliked steamboats.
“We’re still quite a ways from town,” said Silver. “The wind’s from that direction.”
“That train’s arriving or leaving,” Wes said, “and if it’s leaving, it’ll be gone before we can get there.”
“No matter,” said Silver. “I reckon we should spend a night there and see if there’s a reason why the name of the town—if it was this town—was written on a scrap of paper in San Francisco.”
“More important,” Wes said, “I’d like to know if Elias Hawk and Hobie Denbow are here, and if they are, why.”
“Sí,“ said El Lobo. “Kill.”
“I reckon you and El Lobo had some trouble with them before,” Silver said.
“We did,” said Wes. “They chained us, along with some other hombres in a worked-out mine, digging low-grade ore. When we escaped, we should have gut-shot ‘em both.”12
“Sí,” El Lobo said.
The sun had long since disappeared behind western peaks when they were at last able to see the distant town. The first stars had already blossomed in the purple of the sky, and a few pinpoints of light winked at them from various windows.
“We’d better check with the railroad before we do anything else,” Silver said. “We’ll be needing a boxcar for our horses.”
There was no depot as such. A refurbished boxcar sat on a side track, and just above the DENVER AND RIO GRANDE logo, someone had hand-lettered BUSINESS OFFICE. Farther down the side track was a line of boxcars and ore cars.
“This is not end-of-track,” said Wes. “The main line goes farther south.”
“It will eventually reach Santa Fe,” Silver said, “if the mines continue to prosper. Let’s go ahead and pay for our passage to Denver.”
A conventional door had been cut into the side of the boxcar office, and beside the door a bracket lamp burned. Wes nodded to El Lobo. He would remain with Tamara, Renita, and the horses. Wes and Silver entered the office.
“Use of a boxcar to Denver will cost you fifty dollars,” said the agent in charge. “First-class passenger coach fare is forty-two dollars. Train leaves in the morning at ten. Have your horses here not later than half-past nine.”
Wes dropped thirteen double eagles on the counter. Only when they had returned to their horses did Silver speak.
“I owe you for my fare and for half the boxcar fee.”
“No,” Wes said.
Silver said nothing. Mounting their horses, they rode on to what appeared to be the town’s only hotel. It was a strung-out, one-story building of peeled logs. Instead of an office, there was only a window that opened to the outside.
“Three rooms, I reckon,” said Silver.
Wes and El Lobo nodded. Silver dismounted and knocked on the window.
“Rooms are five dollars,” said a voice from within. “Grub at the cafe.”
“Three rooms for tonight,” Silver said.
He paid and was given the room keys. He passed one to Wes and one to El Lobo. He mounted and they rode alongside the stretched-out building until they found doors with their key numbers painted on them. Beside each door was a lighted bracket lamp.
“I like the lamps outside the doors,” Renita said.
“They are a nice touch, and considerably more than you’d expect in a mining town as new as this,” said Silver. “Having railroad service to and from Denver makes a difference.”
“We’d better find that cafe and eat,” Wes said. “It may close early.”
The entire town, such as it was, had been built alongside the railroad tracks. The cafe shared a building with a saloon, and there was no dividing wall. The saloon, it seemed, was doing a thriving business, while there was nobody but a bored cook on the cafe side.
“It’s not the kind of place for ladies, under better conditions,” Silver said.
“You are considerate to think of that,” said Renita, “but we’ve been in worse.”
“Sí,“ Tamara said, “and we were not there to eat.”
“I may have to bring Empty some food,” said Wes. “He hates saloons.”
Silver laughed. “Just like his daddy before him.”
They dismounted, and as Wes had expected, Empty chose to remain with the horses. The cook nodded to them as they entered, and having their choice of tables, they took one nearest the door and farthest from the saloon. There was shouting, cursing, laughter, and the clink of glasses.
“Can’t you muzzle that bunch of coyotes for a while?” Silver asked, when the cook came to take their order.
“Sorry,” said the cook. “The hombre that runs the saloon owns the cafe.”
After they had ordered their meals, Wes arranged for some food for Empty. When the cook brought it, Wes took it outside and fed the hound. When he returned, El Lobo was on his feet, his hands on the butts of his Colts, and his hard eyes on a pair of men in the saloon. Taking a closer look, Wes understood.
“What’s going on?” Silver asked, about to rise. “Palo, are you seein’ a ghost?”
“Sí,“ said El Lobo through clenched teeth. “Bastardos. Kill.”
“No,” Wes said. “Sit down, before they see you.”
For a moment El Lobo seemed not to have heard. Finally he sank down in his chair, his face still a mask of fury.
“It’s Elias Hawk and Hobie Denbow,” said Wes. “I’d give a lot to know what that pair of varmints is doin’ here.”
“No care,” El Lobo said bitterly. “Kill.”
“I understand your feelings, Palo,” said Silver, “but Wes is right. Remember, we saw their names and the name of this town written on a scrap of paper in San Francisco, after we broke into that building that was Golden Dragon headquarters. Somehow, they figure into this conspiracy, and when all the dust settles, we’ll be coming back to them.”
El Lobo, listening to Silver, had begun to relax, but there were still beads of sweat on his rugged face.
“We know where they are, Palo,” Wes said, “and before we can nail the Dragon’s hide to the wall, we’ll be comin’ after them. You’ll get your chance.”
“If they’re part of this terrible organization,” said Renita, “why are we on our way to Dodge City, by way of Boulder, Colorado? Why don’t you simply arrest these two and make them tell you where the others are?”
