‘Like any way my horse will take me, Marshal. I will not take part in any murdering thievery. I already tasted prison life and I have no intention of repeating the experience.’
Marshal Yates said, ‘Fletch, take the weasel outside and shoot him. Get him away from town.’
Pearl said, ‘Anson?’
Hawkstone smelled panic in the room. He watched Fletch stand with a hand on Roscoe’s collar. Hawkstone pushed his chair and stepped back, the .45 in his hand pointed at Wild Fletch Badger. ‘Sit down or you’re dead.’ He kept his eyes on the buzzard face but talked to the marshal. ‘Yates, if the skunk doesn’t sit, you’re dead too.’
‘You can’t shoot in two directions, Hawkstone,’ the marshal said.
‘I can shoot too,’ said Pearl. She had her pistol on the table aimed at the marshal’s puffed chest. ‘I got the other direction, Anson, go ahead and shoot the bastard.’
Fletch Badger released the collar and quickly sat, his hatred staring at Hawkstone.
One-Eye Tim Brace had dropped his right hand from the table.
Hawkstone swung his aim, saying ‘You come up with anything in your hand, and you’re the first to go.’
The hand came up empty.
Marshal Yates held out his palms. ‘All right, let’s hold on here. We supposed to be planning something makes us all rich.’ His pork-chop whiskers jiggled with his talking jowls. ‘Settle down, folks, jest ease up. Now, Anson you put that hogleg away. Pearl, you just settle yourself. We’re business associates here. We ain’t got to love each other, but we got a job to do. We got to work together.’
Hawkstone and Pearl did not move.
Hawkstone ignored the marshal. ‘Roscoe, you don’t know cow milk from whitewash. Get yourself on out of here. Find your horse and ride for Santa Fe. You might think about moving farther along. Don’t ever come back here. You already know better than to talk about this.’
Roscoe bowed as he slid back the chair, his lips pursed. ‘What about my five hundred dollars?’
‘You got a life,’ Hawkstone said, ‘don’t git greedy.’
Roscoe squinted as if he was about to cry. ‘I was promised.’ He waited. He sighed and moved out of the room.
‘And I’m another,’ Hawkstone said.
Yates yanked his gaze from the retreating banker and stared at Hawkstone. ‘What about you?’
‘Another that won’t be with you.’
Pearl stood, her pistol still on Yates. ‘Anson? What are you saying?’
Marshal Yates looked around the table. He nodded. ‘We’ll change your mind.’
‘Don’t try,’ Hawkstone said.
Yates looked at Pearl.
Pearl said, ‘Anson, let’s go to my hotel and talk about this. Maybe I can change your mind.’
Chapter Sixteen
As morning brightened Pearl’s hotel room, Anson Hawkstone sat on the edge of the bed pulling on his boots.
Pearl, propped up on her pillow, smoked a cigarette, one of the ready-mades from South Carolina she kept in a silver case. ‘I need you with us, Anson.’ She wore only a white chemise, looking perky with a young girl shape. Her experienced morning face showed different from perky.
Once dressed, he reached for his cartridge belt and swung it around his hips. He turned to her. ‘Walk away from this, Pearl. It carries a bad smell beginning to end.’
‘You didn’t enjoy yourself during the night?’
‘I did. I conjured up some fine memories, past and present.’
‘But you ain’t changed your mind – memories weren’t good enough for you to bend to me?’
‘Nope.’
‘What if I promised more of the same until the stagecoach is done? And after?’
He looked around the room for his Stetson. ‘I’d be tempted, but not enough. And what if there ain’t no payroll on that stagecoach?’
‘Roscoe says there will be.’
Hawkstone sat back on the edge of the bed and caressed her shoulders and breasts. He’d sure miss her. ‘You believe Roscoe?’
Pearl’s thin face scrunched up. ‘What do you know, Anson?’
He kissed her forehead. ‘You’re the only outlaw I care about. It ain’t no good, Pearl. I don’t want you part of it. Ride on north to your folks and children.’
Pearl squashed the cigarette butt in a whiskey glass on the walnut night stand. She put her hand on the back of his neck. ‘You got to come, Anson. If I can’t convince you, the marshal will find another way.’
‘He can try. I’ll shoot him down when he does. I already reckon he killed Big Ears Kate and Billy Bob Crutch. I buried evidence it was him for Casey Steel. The town marshal ain’t gonna live much longer, girl, and you got to get out of this.’
She kissed him, and he enjoyed the kiss while he caressed her. He hoped she’d soon be gone to other parts, and for a long time – and he hoped it would be soon, like tomorrow at the latest. He thought about telling her Roscoe didn’t know the payroll had been sent, not only the day before schedule, but the week before. There would be no payroll for their hold-up. But he realized she’d just go running to Yates with the information, and the boys would come gunning for him, or worse, tell Federal Marshal Casey Steel that Hawkstone had the payroll money, along with his ten thousand from the Mineral City robbery three years before.
‘Come back to bed, Anson,’ she whispered. ‘I want more of you.’
He stood again and sighed deeply. ‘Listen to what I say, Pearl. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. Get yourself gone. Promise me.’
‘I’ll think about it. You think about how you’ll miss me. I know you’ll miss me.’
At the door, he said, ‘Damned if I won’t. Adios, little girl.’
A mile from the small village, Hawkstone rode easy, letting the chestnut walk, her legs still wet from crossing the Rio Gila where Disappointment Creek forked into it. He rode along the creek letting the chestnut pick her way. Then a pony galloping came splashing out of the Rio Gila and slowed up behind him. He had expected Black Feather sooner, just outside the whorehouse. The appaloosa heaved and shook his head as it trotted alongside. His antics caused the chestnut to snort and toss her head.
‘A long fast ride?’ Hawkstone said.
Black Feather reached back for his canteen and took a long swallow. ‘Most fifty miles roundabout.’ He leaned forwards and patted the appaloosa’s neck. ‘Easy, old timer.’
Hawkstone then knew. ‘You followed Roscoe Dees. He was headed for Santa Fe.’
‘That his name? I see him come from meeting. I follow south, not north towards Santa Fe.’
Hawkstone studied his tired-looking blood brother. ‘He rode to Tucson, to the bank.’
‘And went inside the bank,’ Black Feather said.
‘He likely found his five hundred dollars, the back-biting snake.’
Black Feather said, ‘I know nothing about that. Does he tell the people at the bank about the hold-up?’
‘And when and where it will take place.’ Hawkstone pulled cigarette makings from his vest pocket as the chestnut walked along. The appaloosa had settled to the pace. ‘I better tell them. There’ll be more than four guards now – might even be regulators from the mines.’
They remained silent; their mounts clomped along, picking their way along the creek, around willows and rocks and past gnarled trunk junipers. In some places they could not see the creek because of the size of the boulders. The way was shadowy, with the setting sun hiding behind trees. Already Hawkstone smelled smoky fires and roasting desert rock goat flanks from the village. Hunting had gone well, with plenty to eat. Burning Buffalo would have seen there was plenty for the old woman and Hattie Smooth Water – the maiden princess owned the brave’s heart. After handing the makings across to Black Feather, Hawkstone lit and drew burning Bull Durham into his lungs. His belly told him roasting goat smelled tasty.
When Black Feather was smoking, he said, ‘Do you ride with the stagecoach hold-up?’
‘I told th
em, no.’
Black Feather twisted to frown at him. ‘You should not have told them.’
‘I ain’t going.’
‘Then do not go, but say nothing. Let them think you are with them.’
‘I want them to know.’
Black Feather stared forward blowing smoke. ‘Now they must convince you. How do you think they will do that?’
‘We have to be ready for them.’
‘Not all of us can be ready.’
‘We’ll keep close, watch over each other. If they come, we’ll know.’
‘Perhaps,’ Black Feather said.
They rode closer to the village, seeing smoke now, columns that rose and spun away with the evening breeze. Roasting goat aroma dominated. Dogs caught the riders’ scent and began to bark until they became familiar. The dogs ran back and forth, acted excited, expecting scraps. Ahead, Hawkstone saw the first tepee of the village.
He said, ‘Tomorrow, I go look at the first stop where they change horses. I never knew of such a stop. I want to see who is there – how many.’
‘I will be with you,’ Black Feather said. ‘Where will the hold-up be?’
‘Steeple Rock. Way I figure it, if a wire is sent to the mines from the bank, regulators might already be riding for the New Mexico trail, ready to jump us outlaws. They might even put on extra guards. Bad business, my brother. The only hold-up outlaw I care about is Pearl Harp. I don’t want her there. The rest can get shot up ten ways from Sunday.’
Black Feather watched the smoke columns. ‘You and the mature woman with the young girl body shared a pillow, yes?’
‘I did.’
Black Feather nodded, ‘You are belly empty of food and head empty of sleep, but full of woman now.’
‘I am.’
‘It is good,’ Black Feather said. ‘Perhaps I will find a girl to share my tepee tonight.’
‘I recommend it.’
‘No Franklin for me in my quest?’
Hawkstone said, ‘A house without a woman and fireplace is like a body without soul or spirit.’
Chapter Seventeen
The day after the meeting, Wharton City Marshal Leather Yates took One Eye Tim Brace and Wild Fletch Badger on a ride towards the Apache village. They had spent the morning waiting and watching when they saw Anson Hawkstone and his Apache pard ride out, headed who knew where? Now, as the sun approached noon, they lay on their bellies on a bluff watching the old woman’s wickiup, highly interested in the movements of the young Apache princess, known as Hattie Smooth Water. Young braves of the village had gone hunting for rock desert goats. Noisy children bounced around mothers and grandmothers. Mongrel dogs wrestled and snarled at each other. Hattie helped the old woman clean up after breakfast. They spoke low together, saying things they had saved until after the men left, most words too far to hear. From snatches of talk Marshal Yates did hear, Hattie was concerned over Hawkstone leaving the village for good. The old woman snapped at her to be silent, and stop giving pains in the head with her chatter. The girl would couple with whatever brave gave the old woman the most horses.
About an hour after noon, Hattie Smooth Water mounted an appaloosa filly and rode out of the village, headed for Hawkstone’s burned-down shack. The half-dog trotted alongside. Staying far enough back so as not to be seen, the marshal and his boys followed.
Marshal Leather Yates’s skin still burned enough that riding was uncomfortable.
One Eye Tim Brace trotted his mount beside the marshal. ‘Marshal, you figure holding the girl will make Hawkstone throw in with us?’
Yates stared ahead. ‘Plus fringes. He ain’t gettin’ her back as pure as he left her.’
On the other side of Yates, Wild Fletch Badger spat a brown glob into the dust and said, ‘I want some of that, too.’
‘We all do,’ Yates said. ‘You boys jes’ remember the law goes first.’
The three slowed their mounts to a walk, keeping pace with the Apache girl shimmering ahead on the horizon.
One Eye said, ‘I dunno, Marshal. We got no idea how the outlaw will react when we tell him about the girl, and how he better throw in with us on the stagecoach hold-up. He’s liable to jes’ start shootin’.’
‘Then we gun him down before the hold-up,’ Marshal Yates said. ‘Thing is, I want his body there by the coach, him dead along with all them other folks he shot down.’ He took his time looking from one to the other. ‘Him dead with his Chiricahua pards evidence all around – a coupla arrows, mebbe stuck in a stagecoach passenger – mebbe a tomahawk split down a skull, mebbe a scalp taken. No witnesses to say it went different.’
Wild Fletch spit then sat straight in his saddle, ‘We killin’ them all, even them high up important men inside the stagecoach? We taking a scalp?’
‘You can do it, Fletch. I got confidence in you. No witnesses means no witnesses.’
‘Even Pearl Harp?’
Yates turned to stare at Wild Fletch. ‘How big a split you want? Five ways, four ways, or three ways?’
One Eye said, ‘I figured to get me some of that Pearl Harp.’
‘You got five days,’ the marshal said. ‘You can catch her alone someplace and help yourself. Her body has to go over a cliff someplace. It wouldn’t look good having her there in the slaughter of attack by Hawkstone and his crazy murderin’ Apache brothers.’
One Eye shook his head, pulling his hat against the wind low over the cavity. ‘I think she’s a lot meaner than she looks. She’s liable to shoot my private parts right off’n me ’fore I get a chance at any sugar.’
‘Then forget her,’ Yates said. ‘Concentrate on what’s ahead of us.’
‘Yeah,’ Wild Fletch said, as he spat.
‘Yeah,’ One Eye said, squinting at the girl towards the horizon in front of him.
They rode in silence for a spell, following the girl towards the burned-down shack.
Wild Fletch said, ‘How come an Apache attack on the stagecoach?’
The marshal wriggled in the saddle to relieve some of the sunburn pain. ‘So I can alert the cavalry over there at Fort Grant. So them soldier boys ride in to punish the murderin’ hostiles and destroy their village – where I think Hawkstone has that ten thousand bank money hidden.’
‘I want that money,’ Wild Fletch said.
Yates bobbed his head in the same movement as his horse. ‘I know you do,’ he said.
His feet squeezed into his boots was what hurt most. Where he sat in the saddle came next. But he figured that when the time came he’d have no trouble functioning as a man, especially with a sweet morsel like the princess, and with the boys holding her. He had to figure where they’d hide her when they sent the note to Hawkstone tied to her horse – either ride with them against the stagecoach, or the princess would die. He thought of Rocky Face Fiona at the Way Out Saloon. A shed sat in back, just beyond shouting distance from the outhouse. The girl might be tied up in there. Fiona owed the marshal, who allowed her to sell her fiery concoction as whiskey without tax and permitted him some of her bony, scraggy, personal sugar on occasion. One more small favour would be just another slice off the loaf – hardly noticed.
Wild Fletch broke the silence spitting a big gob that emptied his mouth. ‘Something you got to figure, Marshal. While me and Tim here is off taking care of the guards, only Hawkstone and Pearl will dog the stagecoach. Suppose they don’t wanna wait until we get there? They could warn them important minin’ men inside, be layin’ in wait for us.’
‘That won’t happen.’
‘How come not?’ One Eye asked.
‘Because I’ll be there with them. I’m riding along on this one, boys. I’ll be keeping a close look-see on them two, plus the stagecoach. Everything will be ready when you boys show with your Apache gear.’
‘They’d recognize you, Marshal. The way you sit a horse, they’d know for sure it was you, a lawman from Wharton City.’
The marshal smiled as he saw the charred shack skeleton ahead. ‘Not if none of them is
around to talk.’
They shot the dog first. After Hattie Smooth Water removed her clothes and waded into the Rio Gila, Yates and the boys had been watching and now closed the distance. As soon as they dismounted, the dog attacked the fattest and most aggressive of them. The dog came running fast between willows from the edge of the water, running low with a growl in its throat. One Eye Tim Brace drew his Colt and shot the dog through the side. The force was enough to knock the animal off his feet, cause him to slide sideways five steps. He came back up, legs still running. With his hands shaking in fear, Yates turned back to mount his horse, get up and away from the attacking animal, but he couldn’t get his fat leg high enough, fast enough. His boot jerked on the edge then slipped down from the stirrup. Even wounded, the dog got a fang grip on the back of the marshal’s leg before One Eye tore out the animal’s belly with another shot.
Hattie Smooth Water screamed and started swimming fast for the opposite bank.
Yates shook the dog away and tried to see the wound by twisting around his ample girth. ‘Fletch!’
Marshal Yates watched the river while he rubbed the back of his leg. Wild Fletch Badger dropped his gunbelt, and hopping to get one boot off, splashed into the river after the girl. One Eye Tim Brace took enough time to get both his boots off. He unfastened his cartridge belt, then ran along the bank downriver almost out of sight before he went in and swam for the opposite shore. Hattie made it across, but her feet and hands kept slipping on the muddy bank until she dug her heels in. Then she ran naked between tree trunks, downriver until she saw One Eye almost across ahead of her. She turned back to see Wild Fletch Badger climb the bank and remove his other boot. She was caught between them.
Wild Fletch held out his hands, breathing quickly. ‘Now, come along, sweetie. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you. You give us what we want; you go along on your way, nobody to bother you no more.’
Yates watched as Hattie picked up a tree limb the size of her arm. She leaned her back against a willow and looked first left, then right. She held the limb with both hands. Her body glistened. The long raven hair half covered her face and hung to her cute butt. Her lovely wet face scrunched in terror and determination. She raised and lowered the limb and raised it again to her shoulder. With a head movement she tossed her hair behind her shoulder. She took a step away from the willow. She waited for them. No words spoken, none needed.
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