One of the women whimpered.
“You bastard,” the passenger mumbled.
Ethan turned just slightly, enough to see the man drop a fat wallet into the gunny sack. It was then the robber pistol-whipped the man, who let out a grunt as the blow opened a bloody gash in his head. He slumped over in his seat. “I don’t like to be called names,” the robber grumbled. He turned his dark gaze to the others. “You folks either cooperate or die, it’s that simple. I got plenty out there to back me up, so whip out those valuables, take off them rings and watches and throw them in this bag! I ain’t a patient man!”
He moved up the aisle toward Ethan. Terrified passengers dumped their possessions into the bag. Ethan noticed the wealthy-looking man appeared to be furious. His dark eyes glittered with rage. He was obviously not someone accustomed to being ordered to give up his valuables. He glanced at the man beside him, and Ethan saw the second man reaching into his suit coat. By then the robber had reached their seats. “Well, now, looks like I’ve hit the mother lode. Pretty fancy watch there, mister. Let’s have it.”
More gunshots were being fired somewhere outside. It seemed to Ethan they came from the mail car. Someone in the second passenger car screamed. “Hurry it up, George!” a rider outside their own car hollered.
“I’m comin’,” the robber yelled out. His huge physique seemed to fill the entire car with terror. The well-dressed passenger wearing the gold watch was obviously seething inside but he held his tongue as he removed the watch from his vest pocket.
“What you got under that coat, mister?” the man called George asked the rich man’s traveling companion. “A gun, maybe?”
Ethan could see the wealthy man’s companion had apparently been thinking about pulling a gun, but had changed his mind. His face grew beet-red, and without a blink of regret or hint of warning, the robber fired his pistol, opening a hole in the man’s chest. There came more screams from the women, and the wealthy man’s eyes widened in horror. He dropped his watch into the bag, then pulled out a wallet and dropped it in also. His dark eyes drilled into the robber, a look that spelled murder.
George quickly moved on up the aisle then. Terrified passengers couldn’t get their valuables out quickly enough after seeing the man shoot a passenger point-blank. Ethan waited, sitting near the front of the train car. There were only the two women and one man in front of him. George approached, pointed his six-gun at Ethan’s head. Ethan just glared at him. “Do I look like a man who has a lot of valuables?”
George looked him over. “You look like a goddamn Indian, but that don’t mean you ain’t got money. Anybody that rides a train has some money. Let’s have it!”
Ethan obliged, pulling out a pouch attached by a rawhide cord to a belt loop on his pants, then tucked inside. He untied the cord and held it out. “Not much.”
“It’ll do, Indian.” George eyed him a moment, then ordered him to give up the knife at his belt and throw it out the window. Ethan obeyed, realizing the man thought the knife was his only handy weapon. He waited then, watching the robber turn away and give his attention to the two women. “Maybe I ought to take one of you with me as part of my catch,” he threatened.
“Please don’t hurt us,” the younger one whimpered. “I have a husband and children.”
George snickered. “Well, your man ain’t here, but I am!”
Ethan reached for his Colt .45, carefully and quietly drawing it from under the coat.
“Stand up, lady,” George ordered. “I want to get a look at my loot.”
Before the woman could rise, Ethan’s gun was cocked and shoved into the robber’s back. “Mister, you might be big, but a bullet from this .45 in my hand will sever your spine just as easily as any other man’s. Now drop your weapon, or I’ll open up a hole in you so big I can reach through and grab that gun myself!”
The robber temporarily froze. “You crazy, mister? I got a lot of friends out there.”
“Makes no difference to me. I’m an Indian, remember? I’ve got nobody who gives a damn about me, so I can take the chance. Now, let go of that six-gun!”
“I’ll kill one of these women first. You want that?”
Without another word, Ethan pulled the trigger, and George’s body lurched forward, an ugly, bloody hole in his spine. Both women screamed in horror and ducked into their seats, and others gasped. “My God!” one man exclaimed.
Ethan quickly bent down and grabbed the gunny sack from the robber, then turned to eye the others and make sure another robber had not boarded their car.
“What’s going on in there, George?” someone outside shouted.
Ethan ran down the aisle, shoving the loot into the hands of the wealthy man. “See that everybody gets their things back,” he ordered. “Everybody stay down!” he said a little louder, moving to an empty seat and looking out the window. Without hesitation he fired at the rider who had been calling to George. The man held a sack similar to George’s. His horse reared as the man and his bounty fell. Ethan quickly exited his own car and charged into the second passenger car. People screamed, thinking he was another robber. He spotted no one with weapons, figuring the man outside on the horse had already robbed this car. “Stay low!” he ordered, as he ran through that car to the mail car.
“Hal’s been shot!” one of the robbers was shouting. The voice came from the mail car.
Ethan pressed his back against the end of the car, away from the window in the door.
“Let’s get out of here!” someone else exclaimed.
Three men exited the mail car. “George! Where are you?” one of them shouted.
“Right here,” Ethan answered. He crouched and took aim, catching the three thieves off guard. He shot one down before the other two could react, but then they opened fire on Ethan. Bullets zipped past him, one taking a chunk of wood out of the corner of the mail car. A piece of it skimmed across Ethan’s left cheek, cutting it deeply. Ethan wasn’t sure if it was the wood or a bullet, but there was no time to wonder. He scrambled to the top of the car, firing back. He hit one of the two men. He had been holding an even bigger sack of bounty than either George or the other man who had robbed the passengers. Ethan figured it was mail.
The fourth man took off at a gallop. Ethan fired at him again, but he was too far away to hit with a six-gun and Ethan’s rifle was with his gear stashed in the cattle car. He stayed low, then noticed two more men riding off from near the train’s engine, where Ethan figured they must have been holding the engineers hostage while the robbery was taking place. He waited a moment, then decided that must be all of them.
“Come on out!” he called to the men inside the mail car. “Whatever they stole is still here.” He stood up and ran along the top of the car and down a narrow ladder and around to the side door. “Everybody all right in here?”
“Ted here is hurt, but he’ll be okay,” a man answered.
Ethan looked inside and saw two men, one lying on the floor holding a bleeding leg. “I got three of the robbers,” he told them. “The other three rode off. I think everything they took is still here.”
“Jesus, mister, you took a chance! You all right? Your face is bleeding pretty good.”
“I’m all right.”
The man quickly handed Ethan a handkerchief. “Here. Use this.”
Ethan took it and thanked the man. “I expect the robbers set up some kind of barrier up ahead. We’ll have to get a few passengers together to help break it up so we can get your wounded man to Pueblo. There’s one dead passenger in my train car, and one dead outlaw.”
“Go get the engineers. They’ll help—oh, here’s one of them. Frank! This man saved the day—shot three of them—saved all the loot! How do you like that?”
The one called Frank looked very shaken. “I’ll be damned.” He walked closer to Ethan, putting out his hand. “Thanks, mister. You just might be up for an award from Pinkerton’s. I heard one of them robbers say their boss was Jimmy Clairborne. He’s wanted all over Kansa
s for train robbery. I’m almost sure Pinkerton’s has money on his head. You’ll get some for sure just for saving the loot, but if one of them dead men is Clairborne, you’ll be even richer!”
Ethan held the handkerchief to the cut on his cheek, his gun still in his right hand. “Pardon me if I don’t shake your hand,” he answered. “My hands are a little full right now.”
“No problem.” The engineer looked at the two dead bodies sprawled outside. “Why’d you do it? You could have got yourself killed.”
Ethan shrugged. “I don’t like being ordered around, that’s all. When one of them threatened one of the women, I knew I had to do something. Besides, I’m an army scout. I’ve gone up against men with guns before.”
“Well, you’re apparently right good with that gun. Who the hell are you, Indian?”
“Name’s Ethan Temple.” Ethan winced at the pain in his cheek, suspecting the wood chip had bruised his cheekbone.
“Well, thank God you were along. You be sure to check at the Pinkerton office in Colorado Springs, if you’re headed that way, and see if you’ve got some reward money coming. We’ll take these bodies with us and see if we can identify them.”
Ethan hadn’t even considered a reward and wasn’t even sure why he had risked his neck for a bunch of people he didn’t know. It just irked him to see someone bullying innocent people and threatening women, and he didn’t like any man taking what belonged to him. Considering he had nothing better to do, he figured he might as well check in at Colorado Springs. He could use the money, if there was any due him. “Can we get underway real soon? If not, I’ll just unload my horse and ride the rest of the way.”
“Oh, I think we can get going within an hour,” the engineer answered. “They disconnected some rails, but they’re lying by the side of the track. I have men who can get them back in place. I don’t think that bunch of no-goods actually damaged the track itself.”
Ethan dabbed at his face wound once more, realized the bleeding had slowed. “I’m going back to my own car to see about getting my money back. I need a smoke.”
“You deserve one,” the engineer answered with a grin. “Go have a rest. We’ll clean up the bodies and have the train back on track within an hour.”
Ethan nodded and left, returning to his own passenger car, where people greeted him with exclamations of gratitude for getting back their valuables. Two of the men were dragging out the hefty body of the robber called George, and the well-dressed man with the gold watch was directing two other men to lay his friend’s body in the mail car and cover it. “I’ll see he gets a decent burial when I reach Colorado Springs,” he said, a look of disgust on his face. Ethan guessed the wealthy man had expected his friend or bodyguard or whatever he was should have done more to help. He pushed his way past the man, answering questions about what had happened to his face, who was dead, when the train would get underway again.
He got to his seat and reached for his gunbelt, buckling it back on and tying the holster cord around his thigh. He sat down and took a cheroot from his jacket, lit it, and took a deep drag.
“We’re so grateful, sir.”
Ethan looked up at the younger woman with whom the outlaw had threatened to ride off.
“I hope you’re all right,” she said.
Ethan kept the cheroot between his lips as he lightly touched his cheek. “It’s just a flesh wound. Does it look bad?”
The woman leaned a little closer, blushing, apparently embarrassed to be talking to a stranger. “It’s a long cut and looks a little deep, but it’s scabbing over.”
Ethan had to look away from her blue eyes. Her very presence reminded him of Allyson, and he remembered the day he had stood up for her against Nolan Ives. Who was protecting her now? Was she all right?
“Can we do anything for you?” the woman asked.
“I’m fine.” He finally looked at her again. “You might as well sit down. It’s going to be about an hour.”
One of the engineers climbed aboard then, announcing the problem with the track and asking everyone to be patient. He announced that one of those shot was believed to be the outlaw Jimmy Clairborne, declared Ethan their hero for the day, and said if he was right, Ethan might get a reward. Ethan did not really appreciate the attention, but suffered through more compliments and thank-yous. He picked up his gun and checked the chamber. Five bullets had been spent. He reached into his gunbelt and began reloading. He was putting in the last bullet when someone came over and sat down in the seat facing him.
“That was a hell of a job you did, mister. What’s your name?”
Ethan looked up to see the man with the gold watch smiling at him. He figured the man who had been with him must not have meant much to him, since he didn’t look very upset. “Ethan Temple.”
The man nodded. “My name is Roy Holliday. Ever hear of the Golden Holliday mine, up at Cripple Creek?”
Ethan whirled the gun chamber, then shoved the weapon into its holster. He puffed on the cheroot, then took it from his lips, blowing out smoke. “I’m not familiar with that part of the country. I’m from Indian Territory.”
Holliday’s eyes moved over him. “Half-breed?”
Ethan studied him a moment, wondering what the man was after. He nodded. “Part Cheyenne. I’ve worked as an army scout for quite a few years.”
“Any family?”
Ethan frowned. “What’s it to you?”
The man grinned more. “I might have a job for you. You certainly took care of those outlaws with no trouble. I like a man who shoots first and asks questions later. That’s what the guard with me should have done. Now he’s dead.”
Ethan looked the man over, guessing him to be perhaps fifty. “Out here that’s how a man survives.” He puffed on the cheroot again. “To answer your question, no, I don’t have a family. And I do need a job. What would I have to do, play bodyguard?”
Holliday laughed lightly, showing white, even teeth. “No, I have other men for that job.” There was something in his dark eyes Ethan didn’t fully trust.
“As you have probably figured out,” Holliday continued, “I am a very wealthy man, which is why I usually take a guard along with me when I’m traveling. I’m on my way back from visiting a sister in Topeka, plus I had business in Chicago, so I’ve been gone a couple of months. I actually live in Colorado Springs, but I don’t have a family of my own. That big house of mine seems pretty empty, so I spend most of my time up at my offices up at Cripple Creek. Actually, I own several gold and silver mines in the Rockies besides Cripple Creek—some up at Leadville, Central City, Pike’s Peak. At any rate, back to your question about the job. We’re starting to have a little trouble at the mines, mostly at Cripple Creek. I need good men like you to keep the miners in line.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Holliday shrugged. “Threats of strikes mostly. Problems over wages. Some of the miners are forming unions and making demands that are costly to the mine owners. We might have to ship in some strikebreakers from other parts of the country if the miners do walk off the job. That would mean big problems. I need men who can keep things under control, men who can guard gold shipments, that sort of thing. You want the work?”
Ethan studied the man a moment. He already didn’t like him, but what difference did that make? He needed the work, and he sure as hell didn’t have anything better to do at the moment. “What does it pay?”
“Five dollars a day.”
Ethan’s eyebrows arched. It took two weeks to make that much working for the army. “A day?”
Holliday grinned again, apparently pleased to have impressed the Indian. Ethan decided to let him revel in his own ego. “A day. It could be dangerous.”
Ethan put the cheroot back between his lips. “Doesn’t make much difference.” He held the man’s eyes squarely. “I have to go to Colorado Springs anyway to see if I’ve got that reward money coming. I’m headed noplace particular, so I’ll try it out for a while, but I’m not one to go b
ullying innocent men, Mr. Holliday.”
“You wouldn’t be bullying them. You’d just be keeping them in line, for their own good. I don’t want any of them to get hurt. But don’t go thinking they’re all innocent. They have a job to do, and I’ll not stand for laziness or troublemakers. Your job is to root out the ones stirring up problems and make sure my operations run smoothly. I’ll assign you to the Golden Holiday. Do we have a deal?”
Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Where would I sleep?”
“There are all kinds of log cabins and mine shacks up there. I’ll set you up. I’ll also have someone show you the ropes as far as mining, how the mills operate, that kind of thing. You’ll learn it all in no time.”
Ethan took another deep drag. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Holliday removed his silk suit jacket, revealing a ruffled white shirt. He began rolling up the sleeves. “I know all I need to know, just from watching you. But if you want to give me the name of your former commander, I’ll wire him and see what he has to say. Where were you stationed?”
“Fort Supply—Indian Territory. I watched over cattle drives through Indian land and helped keep people in line during the land rush of ’89. I’ve spent the last few months up in the Dakotas—did some scouting up there, too, mostly out of the Standing Rock Reservation. I’ll write down some names for you.”
“Fine. After you’ve seen about your reward at Colorado Springs, leave word at my office at the Holliday Hotel in Colorado Springs where you can be reached. I’ll ride up to Cripple Creek with you—you can meet the other men.”
Ethan leaned back. “They might not like an Indian being in charge.”
“They do whatever I tell them to do,” Holliday replied, a threatening look in his dark eyes. “They know better than to cross me. A word of advice to you, too.”
Ethan nodded. “I don’t cross a man, Mr. Holliday. I say what I think right up front. I don’t like being used—if I think that’s happening, I’ll quit, no matter what the pay.”
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