Six-Guns Or Surrender (Lincoln's Lawman Book 1)

by A. M. Van Dorn

  In McKenna's mind, they deserved everything that could be thrown at them. Her stomach had turned when she had arrested Claire, and the woman confessed they had sent Betts to Stockton to find a man sick with the fever that all had heard was running rampant there. He was then to bring him to the mine to purposely infect as many people as he could to create an even bigger crisis than a shortage of food stores and other provisions.

  Once he returned to Pine Bluff, Markham was to send a telegram in McKenna’s name to the nearest marshal and to have the Cordays escorted out of the mining community to stand trial. Red Horse and a few miners had been hired by Markham to stand guard and care for the prisoners until they were collected. The mine itself was temporarily placed in the care of the mining superintendent until Markham sent another telegram to the Cape Girardeau Company explaining what had gone down with their rogue employee and requesting a new manager be sent.

  Under normal circumstances, she would have stuck around to handle the aftermath of the exposing of this entire criminal operation, but she longed to be getting back to Dalton's Creek and Nash's side. In the morning before they had set out, she had indeed picked up her packet from their employers back in Washington with their pay, some of which Nash had promised to use to pay back the people of Dalton's Creek when the corrupt mayor and judge had tried to railroad him.

  The trio watched as the doctor and his helpers went about preparing to distribute the much-needed medicines to the homes of those afflicted. McKenna turned to Markham and Red Horse who stood side by side. She placed a palm on each man’s chest.

  “Red Horse, I can’t thank you enough for all the help that you’ve given me in the short time I’ve known you.” Her face took on a wistful look and she sighed. “I do hope that some of your people will return here someday. I know what that would mean to you.”

  “If it is the will of the Great Spirit, then it will be done. Just as he willed Red Horse the opportunity to meet one such as you,” he said, rewarding her with a smile. She then looked into Markham’s eyes.

  “And you. Don’t shut yourself off. You have a lot to offer some lucky woman. I know getting things back on track after all this madness will be your priority … but leave room in your life not for Matt Markham the businessman … but simply Matt Markham, the man.” Her mouth curled up in a smile. “Do you promise?”

  "For the woman who came out of nowhere and saved the day? I promise," he said warmly as he winked at her. She patted both men's chests before jamming her foot in Cain's stirrup and swung herself up on his back. With a wave, she turned and thundered off towards the edge of Pepper Hill.

  "She's a remarkable woman, my friend," Markham said, watching after her.

  "In many ways," Red Horse agreed. Both men turned their heads to each other and exchanged a knowing look as the horse and rider dwindled to a speck before vanishing from view.

  CHAPTER 41

  DALTON’S CREEK

  Moving as silently as he could through the brush, Riker made his way up until he was opposite of the checkpoint. He saw that it was the same lanky gunslinger manning the checkpoint as the day before. This was good news because the man would be familiar with McBride and the wagon when they pulled up. However, what was different this time was his partner wasn’t off in the brush grunting and groaning between some woman’s legs when he should be on sentry duty.

  Both men stood side by side in the middle of the road, looking alert. That could only mean that they had spied McBride approaching far down the road. The thin man he heard the Mexican call Bowler, slipped his gun from his holster and let it hang at his side. The other man kept a firm grip on his rifle as he and pulled it against his chest that was crisscrossed by a bandolier full of ammunition.

  “Aw shit, Ramírez. This is nothing. It’s just that old Scotsman with the piano I told ya about while ya were doing the dance with that redheaded whore. I done told that idiot he’d have a hard time finding a buyer for the damn thing.”

  Ramírez said nothing, and from where Riker was peering at him from behind the trees he could see the hard look on the man's face and identified him as the Alpha and the more dangerous of the two. Riker's thumb rested on the hammer, feeling satisfied to have a real weapon in his hands this time. They were repeating their play from their exit from town. McBride would wait down the road until he felt Riker had enough time to position himself in the woods near the checkpoint in case anything went wrong. The difference was this time he was brandishing a service revolver.

  It had been given to him by Captain Ullery, followed by a salute just before they had rolled out of the open gates of Fort Creighton earlier in the day. As they had left, he had looked back at the sight of Col. Christie who had exercised the better part of valor by having the discretion to wait until Riker left before coming back out of his quarters to watch them go. Riker could only shake his head, wondering if Christie had some sort of hidden prowess that had led to him being given a command in the first place or if it had been a simple case of having certain connections. That was most likely the case because almost everyone had them. Smiling to himself that included him having been once connected to the finest man ever to sit in the White House thanks to a chance encounter all those years ago that had led to him and McKenna saving the future president's life.

  This time they were returning in the daytime, not having to worry about nightfall halting their progress. The two men and their cache of concealed weapons had made good time over the course of the day getting back to the outskirts of the beleaguered Dalton’s Creek. All that remained now was to get past the pair of hooligans stationed on the road and they would be able to put Riker’s final phase of the plan into motion.

  With smoke from his pipe trailing behind him, McBride rolled up and with a jerk of the reins pulled the two draft horses to a stop by the pair of men who parted to make way for the wagon. Riker said a curse under his breath because he couldn’t completely see what the other man Ramírez was doing on the other side, as he was partially blocked by the bench seat holding Captain McBride.

  "Haw! I told ya that ya'd need luck selling that run-down piece of junk, Scottie!" Bowler said, slapping his knee as he re-holstered his weapon. "No fool was gonna buy that beat up old pee-yany!"

  McBride shook his head in mock sadness, “Looks like you was right, laddie. Tried my level best too. Played up a storm of old tunes trying to tell them how good it would be to have such a thing in their home but no luck.”

  To Riker’s relief, suddenly the other man strode around and stood by Bowler leaving Riker thankful to be able to keep tabs on the man. Wary of the brutish-looking character, he gripped the handle of his six-shooter tighter. He watched as Ramírez planted a foot on one of the spokes of the front wagon wheel and leaned in.

  “Listen hombre … out there on the road did you happen to see that stranger that goes by the name of Riker?” The sound of his name got Riker’s ears perked up, and he took a chance and drew closer to the edge of the road, not wanting to miss anything being said.

  “Nah, can’t say that I have. Why, you looking for him?”

  "What do you think, amigo?" the man smiled, "Would I be asking you if you'd seen him if I weren't. Mayor Dalton's concerned as it's not gone unnoticed after being such a trouble maker that the man seems to have dropped out of sight. If we didn't have this duty, we'd be with the other officers turning the town upside down looking for him!"

  This was news Riker was disturbed to hear. They had made sure to keep knowledge of their mission within a very tight circle to prevent word from getting out. The people entrusted with the knowledge were indeed trustworthy, reliable folks, but how far were the Peace Officers willing to go to find him if they thought some might know where he was—people like Callie? His eyes tightened as he silently wished for the men to let the wagon pass, so they could make haste back to town to find out what had been going on in his absence. Sighing, he had hoped his time away from town would go unnoticed, but the fact that it hadn't made sense. Bryant had
explicitly been ordered to keep him alive. Dalton seemingly had some particular plan for him, but as to what it could be, he couldn't fathom.

  “Wish I could help you, but like I said, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the lad. Probably hightailed it as far away from here as possible to avoid more trouble with your ilk. Now if you don’t mind, I best be getting back to my home and try to figure out where this old seahorse goes from here. Your boss will have my house for sure now. Thank the Lord he took the missus home rather than her see that happen.”

  Riker bit his lip and fought off a feeling of dread as Ramírez broke away and began to walk the length of the wagon, staring up at the piano. Had he become suspicious? There was no reason for him to have; he puzzled.

  “My amigo was right. You were a fool Scotsman thinking someone would buy this derelict. I remember what a good piano was like from back when I was a little muchacho. My papacito owned a cantina in San Sidero and mamacita would play her piano for the patrons.” He turned away from the piano and looked back toward the front of the wagon where Bowler and McBride were watching him.

  “She even taught me to play so I could spell her when her fingers were tired. It all went to shit, of course, the day a pair of Comancheros came into the saloon and got in a fight over who was invading whose territory. A stray bullet killed my mamacita, and in grief, papacito put a gun to his head and blew his brains out. The bank took the cantina and I was left with nothing and grew up on the streets learning the way of the gun. My fingers now are used for pulling a trigger when necessary … but only as a Peace Officer,” He finished slyly before turning back to look at the piano.

  A cold fist closed around Riker’s heart as the man laughed. “I bet I can still play a tune, amigos. Perhaps I should give it a try.” He turned to walk to the back of the wagon when McBride bolted up from the bench seat.

  “I’ll thank you to leave my property be! It’s still mine and maybe I’ll lose it when Dalton and Crockett take it with the rest of the house, but it’s still mine!”

  Bowler, who had been standing in a slouch, suddenly straightened, as one of his arms flexed and he suddenly produced a knife from somewhere on his person and held it up towards the old sailor. Riker gritted his teeth and thumbed back the hammer at this turn of events.

  “We’re the law around here! We give the orders. If Ramírez wants to play something, then ya sit your ass down and enjoy the tune.”

  McBride said nothing and slowly dropped back to his seat as Ramírez laughed and made his way to the back of the wagon and climbed in. He saw over Bowler's shoulder the sea captain steal a furtive glance his way. The game was about to be called forcing Riker to slip even closer to the road, hoping to get the best shot that he could. Shooting a man in the back was something he always considered reserved for cowards, but there wasn't going to be any choice in this matter. As he moved, Ramírez opened the lid covering the keys and looked down. Riker was bringing his gun up, trying to set up the best shot that he could through a cluster of saplings between him and the wagon when Ramírez suddenly halted and waved his hand.

  “Aw, the hell with it. Can’t live in the past. All we’ve got is the moment we are in, hombres.”

  Riker exhaled and lowered his gun as Ramírez turned to head back to the rear, but his boot became caught on a loose board in the bed of the wagon and he began to topple. Instinctively, he threw his arms out and stopped his fall as the palms of his hands slammed down on the keyboard … and nothing happened. Stunned, he slammed his fists down on the keys again to the same effect.

  "Played up a storm, eh? Why’re ya lying you old sea dog?!" Bowler snarled as he reached up and manhandled McBride down from the wagon putting him in a headlock, with his knife pressed flat against the man's throat. Riker brought his gun up and cursed. With Bowler standing behind the old mariner, he couldn't get a clean shot. He watched as Ramírez flipped open the lid at the top of the piano.

  Checkmate, Riker thought sullenly.

  Instinctively, as Ramírez’s eyes bulged at the sight of the guns, he was looking down at, he vaulted around behind the back of the piano and jumped down into a crouch. Now Riker couldn't see him, but he heard what the Mexican was shouting back as an answer to Bowler's demands to know what was going on.

  “The piano is full of guns! It’s a trick and that old bastard didn’t pull it off alone. We could be surrounded! Kill that liar and take cover!” Ramírez shouted as he leaped over the side of the wagon and took position behind it.

  With fury in his eyes, Bowler spun McBride around and pushed him up against the wagon and flipped the knife in his hand, so the sharp edge of the blade was no against McBride’s throat.

  “Time to meet up with that missus of yours, I reckon!”

  The blast from a gun filled the air and a tormented cry reverberated into the forest surrounding the wagon. A bullet had burrowed its way underneath Bowler’s arm shattering one of his ribs as he spun away, falling to the ground backward.

  With his gun still smoking, Riker shouted for him to run and prepared himself for the hail of lead that he was expecting now that his gunfire had given away his position. Ramírez didn’t disappoint as he suddenly peered around the side of the wagon and began firing at Riker.

  Riker ducked down behind the bushes and between the saplings as two shots blasted over his head. The man had made a good guess where he would be; he thought sourly as he crawled to the side and saw McBride dive into the brush along the road away from Riker. Carefully aiming his weapon, when Ramirez poked his head up from the side of the wagon, Riker shot. It scattered splinters off the sideboard but missed his target.

  As he rolled sideways to the next bush, Riker heard another two shots, the second kicking up dirt where he had just been. Ramirez knew where he was, so he kept rolling as the man ducked back down, expecting return fire. Riker got a dozen feet from his previous position and scanned the back of the wagon. He had a better angle from this vantage and he waited, and Ramirez was obviously doing the same, waiting for him to shoot again. Ramírez ran out of patience and caved first. When he popped up, he slung lead towards the last location Riker had been and Riker took his shot. Right at the point in the sideboard where two planks came together. The path of least resistance, he remembered the book smart McKenna telling him.

  Like music to his ears, he heard Ramirez swear in Spanish and cry out as the bullet went between the planks and struck him. Riker didn’t know where he hit him and waited to see what would happen next, but he didn’t have to wait long.

  "Damn you, Riker!" The man shouted, and the barrel of his rifle poked up over the side of the wagon, and pointing in Riker's general direction, the man began pulling the trigger. Without looking over the side, he was firing blindly. Four bullets burrowed into the dirt and trees around him, forcing Riker to bury his head under his arms in the earth. When silenced suddenly came to the battleground, he looked up quickly and heard muttering curses.

  Riker aimed carefully again and squeezed the trigger of his six-shooter. Ramirez stiffened upward, almost standing clutching his shoulder. Riker could see the flow of blood running out of a gaping stomach wound from the preceding shot the man’s fingers vainly tried to staunch as the man ignored the similar fountain pouring from his shoulders. Ramírez cried out as he swayed sideways and fell to the ground in a bloody heap giving Riker a grim satisfaction. Suddenly his attention was diverted to the sight of McBride coming out of the bushes where he’s sought refuge. McBride scooped up Bowler's gun from where it had fallen out of his holster when he had dropped to the ground.

  “No so brave are you now, Mister Peace Officer!” McBride chided as he knelt next to him and began to bring the gun up to point it into the face of the bleeding man. Riker, who was making his way towards the pair, shouted a warning to Captain McBride, but he was too late. Sunlight flashed off the dropped blade that had been lying next to him as Bowler rallied what little remaining strength to seize the blade and bury the knife in the side of the old sailor’s neck. As blo
od spurted from the wound like a crimson geyser, Riker growled and snapped off a shot that went through one side of Bowler's head and exploded out the other side in a gory mess.

  He raced to his friend and pulled the knife out and the blood only seemed to increase. McBride was looking up at him through glassy eyes. His mouth strained to force words between his lips.

  “Give … them … hell … laddie.”

  As Riker ground his teeth together, they felt like they would snap off as the last bit of life floated free from the man's body and he grew still in his arms. Another good man like Abraham, whose life was snuffed out by another that wasn't fit to lick the man's boots.

  How long he sat there holding the man and vowing justice for him, he couldn't say afterward. The sound of an approaching horse around a bend in the road snapped him back out his reverie and he gently laid the old mariner to the ground as he pulled out his sidearm. The rider was approaching up the road leading to the town, so he doubted it was one of Dalton's men, but he readied himself. There was no way he would allow McBride's sacrifice to be in vain if the Peace Officers discovered him before he armed the men of Dalton's Creek.

  The gun was rock steady as he jutted his arm out and waited for the rider, prepared to order them off their horse. It felt like the lifting of a thousand pounds of weight from him as he dropped his arm once his eyes took in the familiar and welcome sight of McKenna coming into view. In no time at all, she was off her horse standing before him. He watched her warm smile fade as she saw the grim look on his face.

  “Nash?”

  “Am I glad to see you.”

  She hugged him, and he felt her body shift in his arms as she looked behind him at what must have been the bizarre site of the upright piano juxtaposed by the three bloody figures that were sprawled in various positions around it. He let go of her and she took a long look at the tableau before her. As she did this, he went and removed her blanket tied behind the saddle and spread it over McBride.