For the remainder of the trip, they spoke little, each with their thoughts of what they might find when they arrived. They passed by several ranches before heading towards the town itself. As they approached the main street, they observed that on one side of the road sat the local cemetery and exactly opposite they saw the town's gallows for dispensing the ultimate justice in the West.
“Very convenient,” Lijuan quipped dryly.
“It sure is,” Blue River chuckled, “Taller than any I’ve ever seen,” he said casually as Lijuan eyed it as they rolled past. She had to agree that it was indeed higher than most she’d ever seen.
"Maybe the townsfolk didn't want to have to put the children on their shoulders to watch and figured the higher up, the better the view," Blue River looked at her deadpan face as she finished speaking, and then they both burst out laughing, though they each knew there was some truth to what she said. In the West, hangings were often seen as almost a form of entertainment, attended by folks, young and old.
Once past the curiosity, they rolled onto the main street of Horseshoe. The town itself appeared more prosperous than many she had seen. The buildings looked sturdier, the people better dressed. The main street was lined with the usual shops one would expect, blacksmithing establishments, saloons, whore houses, but only one bank, and that was their destination.
As they rolled along, the streets were filled with people, most of who were gathered around in small clusters, speaking animatedly amongst themselves. So much was the crowd's pre-occupation they barely got the baffled looks they had become accustomed to, generated by the sight of an Indian and Chinese woman in each other's company.
By far the largest crowd that lay before them was gathered around Horseshoe Savings & Loan bank and the siblings turned and looked at each other. Now they had a very good idea of why there was one group chasing another. Blue River brought the coach to a stop across the street and hopped down. Though she didn’t need help, her brother was a true gentleman through and through, and she accepted his hand to help her down. What a contradiction he can be, she thought. He may be every bit the gentleman, but he can be as fierce a warrior as his fellow braves.
Only recently had he taken over managing the Wildes' lucrative timber operation when their former manager had retired. He had done a fantastic job, especially recently when he had been forced to replace an entire shipment of railroad ties for the Grand Western Railroad when their first order had been destroyed in a scheme to sabotage the railroad company. Before that, however, he had spent considerable time in his late teenage years as a brave with the Hala tribe and was a skilled fighter when the need arose.
The pair wasn't even half-way across the street when a man broke away from the murmuring crowd and raced out to greet them. He was tall with a salt and pepper look to his hair. His thin face sported a handlebar mustache, and his cowboy hat sat at a perfect angle on his head. It was Lane Scott, the man they had come to pay.
“Miss Wilde! Thank heavens you’ve come at this time!” he said, breathlessly, his face ruddy with excitement.
"We'd have been here sooner, but there were some dust devils we had to avoid that slowed us down” she said recalling the conditions they had encountered when first entering the San MIzzilexa flat lands that led up to the Horseshoe mountain ranges.
“No! As I said it’s a good thing. If you had been here earlier, we all might have been inside the bank when it was robbed. As it is one man was shot and is fighting for his life over at Doc Wallace’s office.”
“A robbery. That’s what I figured when we saw the commotion. Oh, Mr. Scott, this is my brother, Blue River.”
Scott hesitated briefly before shaking his hand and telling Blue River he was pleased to meet him. She knew it took a lot of people a moment to remember that the Wildes were perhaps the most unique family in Arizona.
"Likewise, Mr. Scott. When we were still out on the desert, we saw what had to be a posse chasing the bandits."
"That's right, son. Every lawman in this town mounted up and is giving chase. They've made off with a fortune. They aren't going to stop until they hunt down Liam O'Sullivan and his gang! They'll chase him across the border and into the badlands if they have to in order to get that money back."
Blue River turned to her as he noticed spots of color blossoming on her cheeks at the mention of the name Liam O’Sullivan. “You’ve heard of him?”
“Heard of him? Fought him once. Remember when we helped Cassandra go after Clay Travers? He was trying to recruit a new gang the day she made him eat lead. The other girls and I tangled with his new recruits. Bastard tried to shoot us from underneath a table we turned over on him and his buddy. Honor wound up taking him out with a shot to his shoulder. I remember thinking she should have buried it his heart instead. I’d heard later he escaped and started a gang of his own. I had no idea he was operating this far south.”
“The theory is that he’s got his hideout on the other side of the border in the badlands,” Scott said.
Lijuan considered this for a moment. She loved Cassandra so deeply, but for once she was glad she wasn't here. If she had been, there was little doubt she would want to join in the chase. On this day, however, they were here to do business, and that’s what she intended to do.
"I'm sorry to hear that, but on the bright side at least you will still have our payment," she said nodding towards the coach. "I've got it in the carriage. I know we were going to do our business at the bank so that you could deposit it directly. Perhaps there is somewhere else that we could go?"
Scott cleared his throat and looked up the street. “There’s a little café right near to the hotel. I think that would be fine.”
"Even better. Once we are done, we can check in there for the night. We've got to be in the San Ysidro tomorrow."
"Come then. Let us be on our way," Scott said, taking one more look toward the bank where the manager had his hands in the air trying to sooth the people by reassuring them that the sheriff would pursue the villains to the ends of the earth to reclaim the money. Lijuan looked at the mixture of frightened and angry faces. She'd seen such sights many times before. Because of her pitching in to help Cassie whenever she needed it, bank robberies were nothing new to Lijuan and the other sisters. This was not her concern, but soon she would have plenty of her own, as unbeknownst to the townsfolk, the shadow of death was looming large over the town, and it all started in a small hotel room across the street from Lijuan's destination.
CHAPTER 5
Francis LaRue was not a happy man as he ran his right hand through the jet black, slicked-back hair as he stared at the tall Indian brave standing across from him. The Apache's menacing eyes were locked on to him, and LaRue felt like he never blinked, though he knew that he had to. It was time to end this business and get the redskin on his way. He had a lot of plans to make.
“Now we got no more to discuss. You get your carcass back to your people,” he said, momentarily peering out the window watching the angry crowd milling about. Earlier from the same window, he had witnessed the mounted posse of lawmen bolt down the main street intent on catching the dangerous bank robbers who had gunned down a brave but foolish patron who had tried to interfere in the heist.
Amateurs, he had thought. Rank amateurs sticking up banks to gain riches for themselves. It was true that he owned a gun, one that rested in his suitcase on the bed. This was the West, and a man needed protection, but it should never be a tool to gain riches. The way to true wealth was to be crafty and keep your ears out for opportunities. So, it had been that a day had come when he had been in a no-name town across the border where he had just taken his seat after blowing two dollars for a plump Mexican whore whose tangle of hair below her waist had apparently never seen a pair of scissors. As he ordered his drink in the bar in the downstairs of the run-down bordello he at least gave her credit on her skills at being able to suck him dry to the last drop.
Savoring the piss-poor whiskey, he knew the time was coming to soo
n get out of this border town. His funds from his last con were running out, and he needed more money. It had been then when he had heard the drunken Indians at the next table laughing about a load of silver the white eyes knew nothing about. This caught LaRue's interest, and he had invited himself to their table.
Their good humor quickly faded, and they wanted nothing to do with him. He tried to ingratiate himself with them telling them what exceptional mastery of the English language they had. Grudgingly one of them said they spoke no Spanish but the Mexican bartenders and the whores seemed to know enough English, so they had continued using it amongst themselves. After that admission, however, they looked at him warily, and their eyes seemed to say they wanted him to leave their table, so he had taken a different tact.
Soon he had plied them with a full bottle of bourbon. This had more than loosened their tongue, and he cajoled them to tell their story. They hailed from the mountains surrounding a town called Horseshoe just across the border. LaRue was familiar with it having been there on an occasion or two. He knew there was a large silver mine at the base of one of the mountains.
According to the braves, there was a rich vein of ore on the opposite side of the valley far from the silver mine. It had lain undiscovered by anyone for years until a massive landslide had laid the ore bare to the world several months ago. The two braves Charging Bear and Gray Owl had stumbled across it while hunting but chose to keep it to themselves. If the chief and his sister, who they said with annoyance, basically helped run the tribe, discovered the riches they would claim it for the tribe and try and use it for leverage to achieve their goal of gaining an expanded reservation for their people.
It seemed clear to LaRue that the pair of braves had no love for their tribal leaders and had a taste for liquor and women. This was confirmed when he asked them what they were doing on this side of the border. Charging Bear had said the tribe believed them to be on another hunting trip. Better to come here and indulge in their fun than attempt to do so in Horseshoe where it would surely get back to the chief.
At that point, however, LaRue had been barely listening to the intoxicated Mescaleros. His mind was already working like well-oiled gears on how to parlay this information into wealth for himself. It hadn't taken long because the government had made it easy for him. He knew that when Washington had years ago issued leases for the land claims around Horseshoe, it had been for the sole purpose of getting their puppet proxy to obtain the lease holding the bounty of silver so that they could funnel the profits back into the federal treasury. However, they also had made leases for other parcels of land available, so it wouldn't be so evident that they were trying to get the silver for Uncle Sam.
As far as he knew those other parcels were still up for lease, and outside of a few homesteaders who had leased some of the land, they were still available. All he would have to do is confirm that Charging Bear's silver discovery was on one of those plots of land, and he could lease the land for himself. The best part was that he had heard all the leases came with an option to buy the land after a set amount of time. If everything worked out, he would be able to sign the lease, sit on the property until he could legally buy it outright, and then all the silver would be his and he could thank the U.S. government as he would be using a scaled down version of their own manipulative scheme.
So far everything had gone according to plan. Shortly after their revelation, Gray Owl had passed out from the liquor, and that was fine with LaRue as he could tell Charging Bear was far sharper and greedier than the other man, so he proposed a secret arrangement between the two. With a deal struck, Charging Bear had agreed to show him the location of the vein. Returning to Tucson, he found the parcel was indeed still available after telegraphing Washington. It had been a long wait for paperwork to arrive from the nation's capital but when it did, he had arrived back here in Horseshoe. In the morning he would file the appropriate paperwork with the clerk and receive the deed.
Now, however, Charging Bear had come to collect on his end of a bargain he had made with him before he would show him the silver. Having no interest in prying the ore out of the ground himself, he would settle for cash. LaRue had promised to pay the Indian the considerable fortune of $1,000 United States dollars. Initially, after seeing the size of the silver vein, he had truly intended to honor his bargain knowing he could easily recoup what he had spent. To that end, he went to Phoenix and had borrowed the money from his weakling of a sister over the protests of her effeminate husband LaRue despised. Sissy, as he called her, had all the money after all because his parents had cut him out of the will prior to their deaths to show their displeasure in his ne'er-do-well ways.
Unfortunately, one of his vices was gambling and the night before he had lost the almost entire $1,000 in a poker game to the town's tailor. With grim satisfaction, he hoped the diminutive, pinched-faced man had deposited the money in the bank this morning only to have it carried away by Liam O'Sullivan and his gang.
Any delight he might have taken in that thought was being snuffed by Charging Bear. He had tried to promise the money at a later date and had even offered to double it, but the stubborn Indian had refused to leave the room.
Standing here arguing with the Indian was slowly making his pulse quicken as sweat began to drip down his forehead. He was getting nowhere with the man, and LaRue was growing angrier by the minute. Finally, it had occurred to him this was pointless. He had the paperwork. All he had to do was file it in the morning. He didn't need this savage anymore. Turning to his bed, he opened the suitcase and began pawing through it, at one point moving aside the six-shooter he was carrying in the bag until he found a small pouch and started rooting around in it.
LaRue plucked out a folded $100 bill and held it out to the man.
“This is the best you’re gonna get from me. Deal’s off. Take this and stock up on firewater and cheap Mexican whores.Hell, get yourself a white soiled dove if you want to. I don’t care. But our business is done here, Injun!”
His heart leaped in his throat as in a flash Charging Bear forcefully swatted his outstretched hand away causing the money to drift to the floor. LaRue's hand fell to the rim of the open suitcase holding his Peacemaker. Charging Bear just glowered at him.
“Keep it. You are a lucky man. I should split your head open with my tomahawk for trying to cheat us,” Charging Bear said, but his hand did not travel to where his weapon protruded from his belt. “Still, you will not get away with this, white eyes.”
LaRue's face screwed up in a nasty grin as he tilted his head to one side and asked, "That right, redskin? Just what are you going to do about it now?"
The Mescalero was turning away from him now striding towards the door to the stuffy little room that smelled of stale tobacco from the cigarettes LaRue smoked one after another.
“Charging Bear may not care for chief, but better to tell him about the silver than let it fall into the hands of a man who lies. Once chief learns of this, he speak with Toliver, Indian agent with Bureau. Instead of you secretly holding onto land until you buy, tribe, government, everyone get involved. The paper you hold, torn up before the sun sets in the sky tomorrow," he huffed passing through the doorway heading for the top of the stairs.
LaRue had only a moment to consider this. Charging Bear spoke the truth. If it came out, he would be tied up in so much bureaucracy ending with either the Indians or more likely U.S. Grant and his band of cutthroat politicians getting the riches before he could pry it from the earth himself. Maybe he had been too hasty dismissing the way of the gun employed by bank robber O’Sullivan.
He wasn't going to have it ruined now on the brink of his greatest triumph that would leave him sitting pretty for life. A dead Indian couldn't cause him any trouble, now could he? A second later the gun was no longer in the suitcase, but his hand and he was bolting out into the hallway.
The muzzle flared twice, and the gun bucked in his hands as two slugs tore their way into Charging Bear’s back as the Apache unleas
hed a chilling cry of anguish before pitching forward down the stairs.
CHAPTER 6
Only minutes earlier the pair of Wildes had sauntered into the hotel, their bellies full from a generous meal bought for them by Rancher Scott after they had signed over the sizable bank draft from the Cedar Ledge accounts.
Upon entering the establishment, Lijuan had paused to take it all in. The wooden floors were clean everywhere that they could be seen, but most of the flooring lay beneath pristine looking carpets. The walls were filled with paintings of various buildings back east. It seemed fairly certain to her that the proprietor was an eastern transplant.
Lijuan looking closer immediately recognized one of the portraits as Philadelphia's Independence Hall. When she was still a very small child, the Wildes lived there having been Whip's hometown. Later when Honor Elizabeth and Lijuan had attended school in New York, they would occasionally stay at the old family home when they felt like getting away from Manhattan, which for Lijuan was quite often. Philadelphia wasn't much better however for she loved the West and the wide-open spaces. All the other Wildes combined couldn't match the pride she felt in Arizona.
Turning her attention away from the decorations she looked at the people that were in the lobby. Two men stood conversing by a potted tree in one corner. A young Indian woman with long silky black hair stood at the reception desk, where a wicker basket rested.Surprisingly another Indian woman was behind the counter, but unlike the other woman who was in native garb; she wore the dress of a white woman. Her long hair, however, was still fashioned into twin braids.
She was in the processes of counting out several bills and laying them on the counter in front of the basket.Next to her, in Lijuan’s opinion, was a handsome gentleman, flipping open the registration book that lay on the counter. With interest, Lijuan's eye took him in admiring the tall, sharp-featured man with the deep green eyes and neatly styled sandy hair. His well-built figure was obvious despite being housed in his tailored suit.
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