Elijah stared at Wyatt for a moment, then looked out again at the street. He nodded slightly to his people. The large men all faded back, standing like trained soldiers ready for a fight despite the gray-haired man’s signal.
“Thank ya kindly, Elijah.” Wyatt tipped his hat and then pushed through into the lodge. The robot followed close behind.
As the door swung shut, Elijah was left standing alone on the top step. The man slowly put his hands on his hips and looked out at the marshals, his face schooled to an empty coldness.
Time seemed to have frozen, and when the door banged open again the lawmen in the street jumped at the sound. Elijah and his men, however, did not so much as twitch. Wyatt hurried out, taking the stone steps two at a time, the UR-30 hurrying along behind him. The Over-marshal flipped a silver coin into the air over his shoulder and Elijah deftly caught it.
“I’d recommend a pauper’s funeral on the edge of town. That ought to pay for the necessaries.” Wyatt’s voice was cold as he called over his shoulder, his eyes fixed on his Hog. “Anything more you want to spring for, you can pay for it yourself.”
Wyatt hopped onto his Interceptor, the rest of the marshals and deputies jumping on their own vehicles.
“It was James, and Billy the Kid too, apparently.” Wyatt shot his brother a sour look. “And it looks like Grant’s got some boys in the area as well, so things just got even more interestin’.”
“Back to the Judgment, we’ll turn it around as soon as we can and get back on the main trail. This is all goin’ down in Diablo Canyon, and we’ve wasted too much time here already.”
The lawmen roared off down the road, leaving a pall of dust and smoke in the air. As the grit settled, the sound was swiftly replaced once again with the village’s peaceful silence.
Elijah was still standing on the top step of the Sacred Lake Lodge, eyes fixed on the road to the south where a dark plume of dust marked the lawmen’s retreat. Another of the village men stepped up, turning to watch the road with a dark scowl.
“Three times in two days. Events are threatening to overtake us, Elijah. And every one of them tainted with the foul stain of the Great Enemy.” The man’s voice was soft but insistent.
Elijah shook his head. “The time is not yet ready. The Holy Council is not prepared to make themselves known, and many of these men know not what path they walk. Many will choose otherwise when the time comes. Have the men take care of the body upstairs, and then go about their business.” He looked down at the other man and put a comradely hand on his shoulder. “We will be farmers and innkeepers for a bit longer, my friend, before we may once again take up the sword of our lord.”
*****
The Judgment wagon had not quite travelled half the distance to Sacred Lake by the time Wyatt and the outriders returned. He waved for the giant vehicle to stop and then rolled up beside it, the other Hogs rumbling to a halt nearby.
Wyatt pulled down his goggles and took his hat off, wiping the dust and grime from his face. He looked up to the access hatch as it opened, the judge poking his head through, and waved him down.
“We need to set up the wireless. This is getting ridiculous.” Wyatt dismounted his vehicle and strode towards the Judgment. Behind him Doc Holliday hurried after, while Virgil followed at a more sedate pace. The rest of the marshals and deputies stayed with their Interceptors.
“Wyatt, you sure you want to bring the feds in on this? They’ll hog tie us sure as sure, and we’ll be left with nothin’.” Doc’s voice was low but intense.
“We’ve now got two damned outlaw gangs running through the same stretch o’ dirt, and on top of that, we’ve got the damned army running through here shootin’ eveyrthin’ up!” Wyatt’s anger was barely contained. “You saw the trail head overland clear as the rest of us did. At least one of the gangs isn’t even takin’ the trails no more. We need to get in touch with someone, and we’re out in the middle o’nowhere. Somewhere out east there are people who know more than we do,damnit! And we need as much information as we can get before we go ridin’ into Diablo Canyon guns a blazin’!”
Virgil nodded as he came up to his brother. “Wyatt’s right, Doc. We need to know what we’re ridin’ into. The James and Younger gang, that’s bad enough. But we gotta deal with Billy the Kid and his boys too? If there are Union troops around here, we should know why, and we should know if they can help us.”
Wyatt shook his head. “That ain’t it, Virg. They know somethin’s goin’ on out here, those blue-belly bastards. Why else would they have an advanced force out this far, when they’re facing down Sitting Bull and the Warrior Nation off east?” He rested up against the leather seat of his Hog and wiped his forehead again. “No, this is bigger than we thought. An’ those damned Union agents in Kansas City? They weren’t just there whippin’ up biscuits, you can bet.”
The judge and several deputies were wrestling a large canvas bag from one of the storage compartments along the rear of the vehicle. Clearly it was heavy, and jangled when they dropped it as if it were filled with pots and pans.
“Careful with that damned equipment!” Wyatt barked. “God alone knows how much that would cost to replace. And He also knows that General his High and Mightiness Grant the First would order us to replace it if we broke it.” He finished in a mutter.
The bag was dragged away from the trail into an area of flat grass. A confusion of metal struts, beams, and tubing were dumped out onto the brittle grass. A large black iron box was taken out and placed beside the jumbled mess, a single red light twinkling on its side.
“Alright, get that set up pronto, and we’ll see what we have to see. I don’t wanna waste any more time than absolutely necessary, you hear me?” Wyatt pushed himself away from the Interceptor and moved into the shade of the Judgment’s flank. Holliday and Virgil followed, and one of the marshals standing there offered them a canteen.
“Thanks.” Wyatt took a quick swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tossing the canteen to Virgil. “You know, there’s gotta be an easier way to contact Washington than this.”
Virgil nodded before taking a sip. “You know we ain’t gonna be able to hear half of what they say. An’ we’re gonna be lucky if we can understand every other word, the way those things work. An’ you also know, half the time they don’t work at all.”
Doc, who had declined a sip of water, nodded towards one of the UR-30 units standing guard nearby. “Folks whisper as how your little tin soldiers, there, can sneak reports back to Washington without anyone knowin’, spreadin’ their secrets far an’ wide. Maybe they can contact ‘em for us?”
Wyatt snorted, shaking his head. “We been tryin’, Doc, you been there.” He turned towards the robot. “Hey, metal man, get over here.” The head of the machine tracked to the sound of the Over-marshal’s voice, then the rest of the body revolved to orient on the men in the shade. With regulated precision it stalked over to them.
“AZ 21, reporting as ordered.” The robot stood stiffly in front of the lawmen, its single, baleful eye staring straight at the iron flank of the wagon.
Wyatt stood up and addressed the robot in a loud voice, as if speaking to a deaf person. “Okay, 21, can you communicate with Washington?”
There was a momentary pause before the eerily still figure spoke through its vibrating voice grill. “Query cannot be processed.”
Wyatt’s face twisted slightly in bitter amusement. “See? Hell, I don’t even think they’re speakin’ English half the time.” He turned back to the robot. “21, tell Washington we need to know what’s goin’ on out here.”
Again a pause, before, “Directive cannot be processed.”
“Send us some girls from Washington!” Doc’s voice was quite loud despite the leather mask, and his eyes crinkled with amusement.
“Hell, send that little piece from Kansas City, she was a stunner.” Virgil chuckled along with Holliday as Wyatt shook his head.
“Directives cannot be processed,” the still fig
ure replied.
“Go back to sentry duty, await further instructions.” Wyatt did not try to keep the disgust from his voice. As the thing turned away, he sighed. “An’ you just know they’re a heck of a lot smarter than they let on, too.”
“Well, they can’t be a heck of a lot dumber than they seem, ‘r they wouldn’t be much use.” Virgil was still smirking, but he shook his head in bemusement.
The men working on the communications assembly were just about finished as the UR-30 returned to its position. Three tall legs, articulated like the limbs of a giant insect, were affixed to a much taller pole that stabbed up into the sky, a strange ball glowing faintly red at the very top. Tubes and wires were spiraled around the pole to the box at the bottom. Another of the deputies came back from the wagon holding a wooden package the size of a small valise.
“Sir, we’re ready for you.” Another of the deputies opened the package and took out another black box, and something that looked like a thick wand, a black ball at one end and a tangle of cables and wires connecting it to the smaller black box by the other. This new contraption was held by one deputy while another handed the wand to Wyatt.
“You just speak into the ball, there, sir, and anything we get back will appear here, in this window.” The young man indicated the smaller box. A square about the size of a dime novel had begun to glow faintly red when it had been plugged into the larger case on the ground.
Wyatt took the wand and shot his brother a quizzical look. Virgil just shrugged his shoulders. Wyatt cleared his throat and spoke, loudly, into the ball. “This is Over-marshal Wyatt Earp, is anyone attendin’ the network?”
Doc gave Wyatt a wry look. “Ain’t gonna follow procedure?”
Wyatt snorted. “You mean all that stoppin’ an’ rogerin’ an’ such? No. They can figure out what I’m sayin’ just fine with me talkin’ straight.”
The ball at the top of the staff glowed more strongly, the box buzzed in the deputy’s hand, and a series of red characters began to burn deep within the box’s frame.
“THIS IXXXARSHALXXXXXLER IN TOMXXXXXE STOXXXXESTION WXXX DO YOXXXEED OVEXXXXRSHAL STXX”
Wyatt stared at the glowing characters with rising frustration. “Now you see that? What in the Sam Hill is that even supposed to mean?”
Holliday looked over Wyatt’s shoulder at the box. “Marshal Miller back in Tombstone, mannin’ the board, Wyatt. He’s asking you what you need.”
“Don’t see that that’s so tough, Wyatt.” Virgil smirked beneath his sweeping mustache.
Wyatt gave them both a sour look and then addressed the wand again. “Miller, go up the network and get me someone from Army HQ.”
A pause, and then the earlier message disappeared, replaced with another.
“SORXXXXIR I COXXX NOT UNDEXXXXXD THXXXUESTION PLEASXXXXPEAT STXX”
“God damn this contraption straight to Hades!” Wyatt took a turn and kicked at the unoffending grass underfoot, then turned back to the machine, holding the wand in both hands.
“Get me Army HQ now.” He said the words slowly and loudly, every muscle in his body tense with annoyance.
The men waited a moment for the box’s message to change.
“YEXXXIR ARMXXHQ PLEASXXXXXT A MINUXXXXTOP”
“I swear, I’d rather be using smoke signals at this point.” Wyatt paced back and forth while the rest of the men watched him from the corners of their eyes. Most of the deputies had never seen the far speaking machine used before, but all knew that the Over-marshal got downright ornery whenever he had to resort to it. There was a reason most communication still went over the wires.
“Sir, I think it’s Army HQ.” The deputy holding the box jiggled it slightly to get his attention.
Wyatt walked back to the box and looked into the window where, indeed, the letters had changed again. He looked up at Virgil and Doc. “Well, trust the Army to have a stronger machine than the one they sent to Tombstone.” The letters were much clearer.
“THIXXIS UNION AXMY HQ STOXXPLEASE IDENXXFY YOUXSELF STOP”
Wyatt sighed with frustration and yelled into the wand. “This is Over-marshal Earp. I need to speak to someone in authority of Arizona Territory Operations!”
The letters almost immediately faded out and were replaced in a new configuration.
“OVEXXMARSHXL PLEXXE STAXD BY STOP”
“Hmmm,” Virgil straightened up from reading the words. “Looks like you might’a hooked a big bug with that one, Over-marshal, sir.”
Wyatt growled wordlessly and waited for the reply. When the letters rearranged themselves again the three men all bent down. Doc whistled low and muttererd. “Damn… “
“THIX IS GENXXAL GRAXT WHAXXSEEMS TO BE TXE PROBXXM OVERXXARSHAL”
“He don’t much cotton to the procedures himself, looks like.” Doc was smiling.
“He’s a blue-belly, they don’t much cotton to anythin’ if you think about.” Wyatt jabbed an elbow into his brother’s ribs. “This thing ain’t half bad when you got the power of the whole Union Army behind you.” Once again spoke into the wand.
“Good afternoon, sir. I was wondering if you could tell me if you have any operations currently active in the north eastern quadrant of the territory, around the Coconinos?”
This time there seemed to be a very long pause before the words in the box changed.
“THE SITUXTION IN ANXXAROUND THE COCXNINXS IS UNDER COXTROL OVER MARSHAX PLEAXX STAND DOWX AND RETUX TO TOMBSXONE FOR FURXHER INSTRXXTIONS”
The men straightened and glared at each other in disbelief.
“Did that bastard just order me to stand down?” Wyatt’s voice was high and incredulous. The flare of disbelief in his eyes was matched by every other man watching.
“Damned if he didn’t do just that.” Doc seemed more amused than disbelieving. “Never trust authority, Wyatt. Isn’t that what I always tell you? Especially when you are authority.” It was clear that his smile was enormous behind the ornate leather mask.
“Well, he can just take his orders an’ drown ‘em in a spittoon! I ain’t in his damned outfit, and he can’t tell me nor my men what to do!”
Wyatt was grasping the wand with white knuckles as he shouted into the black ball. “Listen, Grant, my men and I are conducting our own operation, and we will continue—“
“Sir, the box is… General Grant must still be talking… “
Sure enough, the words continued to form.
“CEAXE AND DXXIST ALLXOPERATIXNS IN THE DIXBLO CANYXN AREA XNDER PXESIDENXIAL AXTHORXZATION”
“Damn,” Doc repeated.
Wyatt looked down at the words as they swam in their crimson-tinged darkness. Presidential authorization meant something truly momentous was occurring. Or Grant thought there was, anyway.
“You think he’s really got President Johnson on the hook for this?” Virgil looked at his brother, then to Holliday, then out to the deputies and marshals watching from a distance. He could not keep his gaze from lingering on the robots as they stood motionless at their posts.
Wyatt was still staring at the words. “Damned if I know, Virg. Still an’ all… are we plannin’ on backin’ off, even if it is the president his own self tellin’ us we’re done?”
Virgil looked down the road, then back up towards Sacred Lake, and then over to his brother again. “Well, Wyatt, if there’s anyone can tell us to stand down, it’s Johnson.”
“But it’s not Johnson.” The buzzing voice brought them all up short. They had all been so wrapped up in the conversation over the far speaker that they had not noticed the rear ramp being lowered, or Morgan coming down to join them. That said something for their depth of focus, anyway.
Wyatt nodded, forcing himself to look into Morgan’s placid face. “Hey, Morg, thanks for joining us. What’re you sayin’, now?”
The enormous metal arm rose to point at the far speaker’s window. “That is not President Johnson.” There was a little more emotion in the voice than in a UR-30, but not much. “That is G
eneral Grant claiming the president’s authority.”
“Still, sir,” one of the deputies looked pale. “The man’s a general. If he tells us to back down—“
“Provencher,” Virgil’s voice was gravelly with anger. “You wanna add coward to the list of words that pop into my mind when I see you?”
The man backed down, but he was looking at Wyatt with grey determination.
“No, Virg, the little shavetail’s right. Grant’s a general, hell, he’s the General of the United States Army.” Wyatt took a few steps away from the box until the cords brought him up short, then turned and paced a few steps back the other way. “He can’t have got that much out here to stop us, but at the same time, if we go against his word, he’s got plenty he can send after us after the fact.”
“Easier to ask forgiveness than beg permission, Wyatt.” Doc’s smile was still there behind the leather.
Wyatt’s look at his old friend was sour. “That ain’t no way for a grown man to live his life, Doc.” He gave the robots a speculative look. “But still, that don’t mean it ain’t true. And I’ll tell you what else is true, the Army ain’t been there to help with the outlaw problem much at all either way. So, if they come farther into the territories, thinkin’ their comin’ after us, maybe that ain’t such a bad thing neither. “
Wyatt smiled and went back to the box. The window was shifting as he looked into it.
“OVXR MARSXAL EARPXPLEAXE ACKNXWLEXGE STAND XOWN OXDER”
Wyatt cleared his throat and then raised the wand to his mouth again. “Sorry, General. Your last messages have been garbled. We will try to communicate with you again at a later date.”
The Over-marshal tossed the wand to one of the waiting deputies and started walking back towards the Judgment wagon.
“Alright boys, let’s pack up and move out! We’ve got us an appointment in Diablo Canyon we ain’t about to miss. I want all the interceptors topped off from the wagon so we’re all goin’ in on full burn. We gotta take the roads, so we’re gonna be late to the party anyway, but that don’t mean we ain’t gonna be bringin’ the real entertainment!”
The Jessie James Archives Page 25