‘I’d like to fill that wagon with dynamite and send it rolling into his bunker. Take our horses in the commotion. Thing is, we don’t have a horse to pull the wagon.’
‘I have a horse.’
‘You’ll let us borrow it?’
‘I’ll drive him myself.’
‘I don’t want to put you in danger.’
‘You won’t. I’ll ride back before you start the attack.’
‘I don’t know Angie.’
‘You’re already planning on bringing how many, nine horses back? You don’t need any extra. Besides, you have no idea where Witney’s place is. Finding it in the dark and coming up on the hill side will be impossible without me.’
‘You’re right.’ He stood up and began to dress. ‘I’ve got to get to that munitions store before they close, and let the boys know the plan.’
‘When do you want to hit them?’
‘Early morning. Before daybreak. We’ll blast them right out of their beds.’
Angelique pulled the sheet around her and watched him dress.
‘Oh, one more thing,’ said Balum. ‘You have a paper and pen?’
The shopkeeper at the munitions store was closing up when Balum arrived.
‘You planning on on doing some gold mining, son?’ he asked when Balum inquired on the dynamite.
‘Far from it.’
‘How much do you need?’
‘Enough to blow apart Ned Witney’s compound.’
The shopkeeper spread his hands on the counter and leaned on them. He ran his tongue over his gums and measured Balum up from head to toe.
‘I know who you are mister, I’ve seen the posters. And I’ll be just as glad to be rid of that sonbitch as you. So I’ll sell you all the dynamite you can carry. But let me tell you something. You start a war on him, you best finish it. For your sake as well as mine. He’ll know who sold you that dynamite, and if you don’t finish the job he’ll come for me.’
‘It may take a couple days, but I’ll finish it. I’d suggest until this is over you close up shop and hole up somewhere where no one will find you.’
The shopkeeper compiled the dynamite and fuses and wrapped them into separate bundles. He set them in the stairwell by the side door where the dairy man dropped off milk in the mornings, and showed Balum where the string hung to lift the door latch from the alleyway outside.
When Balum left, the shopkeeper shut the door behind him and turned the sign in the window to ‘closed’. He watched Balum walk away through the window, then turned and left through the back to inform his wife it was time to disappear for a while.
The bellhop at the Rosemonte Hotel was the same as when Balum had called on Cafferty. He showed Balum to Charles’s room and pointed out the other two doors where Joe and Will were put up.
‘Trouble Balum?’ asked Joe, once Balum had them all assembled in Charles’s room.
‘There’s going to be trouble Joe, but it’ll be of our own making. I know we agreed to meet in the morning, but I feel like time’s a wastin.’ He explained about the dynamite and the wagon on the outskirts of town, and how Witney’s compound was set up. Then he pulled the paper Angelique had given him from his vest pocket and held it out for them.
‘They’re backshooters, every one of them, but we’re not. A fair warning is enough to ease my conscience of what we’re about to do.’
‘I ain’t much hand at reading, Balum,’ said Will.
Charles took the paper and read the words aloud. ‘Public Notice. Ned Witney and all who ride for him are thieves and murderers. From midnight this day forward, September the fifth, may this Notice serve to inform those mentioned that if found they will be jailed and held for trial. Any person resisting arrest will be shot. Signed, Balum, US Deputy Marshal.’
When he finished reading aloud he reread the words silently again, his lips moving as scrolled down the paper.
‘Jesus, Balum. That’ll do it alright. Where you figure on hanging this?’
‘Ned’s Palace.
‘Right now?’
‘Right now. You boys wanted a piece of the action. You’re about to get it.’
29
They left the Rosemont, four men, four gun belts, four hats low on their brows. Their bootheels sent hollow echoes bouncing down the street as they landed on the wooden boardwalk.
Ned’s Palace was lit up from inside. Light poured through the windows onto the street, and music from a piano danced through the open doors. Balum entered, his three men close behind.
The saloon was not large, although compared to Angelique’s it almost could pass as a Palace. It was full, enough so to explain why the streets of Cheyenne appeared so empty. The town was here, gathered up to drink and enjoy the girls Ned had taken from Angelique.
They stood together just inside the doorway and took in the scene with their eyes. The patrons standing at the bar and loafing at the card tables began to take notice. The hum of conversation began to soften, and as it did, silence quickly commandeered the room until the only sound left was that of the piano player walloping the keys of his instrument.
Even he took notice of the silence eventually, and took his fingers from the keys and spun around on his stool. The room faced Balum and his men. The lack of sound was amplified when Balum walked to the end of the bar closest to him. The clack of his boots rang out much differently between the walls of Ned’s Palace than they did on the boardwalk of an empty street.
‘Hand me a knife,’ said Balum to the barkeep.
The man behind the bar set down the glass he was cleaning and pulled out a steak knife from a drawer. He handed it to Balum.
Walking to the center of the saloon floor where a support beam ran vertically from floor to ceiling, Balum took the paper from his pocket and unfolded it. Stopping at the beam he held the paper to its surface and stabbed the knife into it, effectively posting the notice.
‘What’s it say?’ voiced an old man seated at a card table.
‘Read it.’
The man slid his chair back and rose up. He was slightly stooped and walked woodenly from his table to the post. The saloon patrons watched him hobble the distance. They gave each other looks and whispered to each other as the old timer shuffled across the floor. When he reached the notice he stuck his nose close up to it and began to read.
‘Louder Frederick,’ shouted someone from the back. ‘We can’t hear a damn thing.’
‘Calm down now,’ said Frederick. He took an edge of the paper in his fingers as if to stabilize it, then cleared his throat and read aloud. ‘‘Public Notice. Ned Witney and all who ride for him are thieves and murderers. From midnight this day forward, September the fifth, may this Notice serve to inform those mentioned that if found they will be jailed and held for trial. Any person resisting arrest will be shot. Signed, Balum, US Deputy Marshal.’
The old man let go of the edge of the paper. He glanced at Balum, then looked over the crowd of silent observers and back to Balum.
‘That clear to you Frederick?’ asked Balum.
‘That’s pretty clear to me, Deputy.’
‘Is that clear to everybody else?’ Balum asked, his voice loud across the saloon. He looked at the men standing still at the bar and those seated immobile at card tables like stone statues. The majority of faces staring back at him were new, but others rang his memory. Some wore long trench coats, the mark of Witney’s men. No one moved.
‘Deputy?’ said the old man.
Balum turned his eyes to him.
‘Why midnight?’
‘Fair warning. Those with half a brain will clear out of town, out of this part of the country, and out of sight. Anyone who stays knows what they have coming.’
He stood a moment longer in the hushed room. Had anyone entered at that moment they might have thought him an actor or politician, delivering his lines to an enraptured audience. The only thing missing was the applause.
He turned and left. His men followed him out, and they walked quickly d
own the boardwalk, each aware that they had narrowly escaped a much less fortunate outcome. They stopped in the alleyway by the munitions shop.
‘Took some grit to do that Balum,’ said Charles. ‘Couple of those boys looked like they were ready to take their chances right there.’
‘I wouldn’t have been so sure of myself without you three standing behind me.’
‘Midnight ain’t far off.’
‘No. And I don’t think any of us are going to get much shuteye right about now. The dynamite is just up ahead here. Let’s grab it, get it in the wagon, and get ready.’
He led them to the side door of the munitions shop and pulled the string that flipped the latch. Under the stairwell were the packages of dynamite, wrapped and ready. They took them in their arms and walked to the end of the alleyway. The street was dark and empty. Nonetheless, the men crossed it at a run and didn’t slow their pace as they ducked into a desolate street on the other side. They had given Witney’s men until midnight, but each knew that meant war was declared, and it had already started.
They reached the wagon and set the bundles inside. On the edge of town under the darkness of night, they were unlikely to be seen by Witney’s men. Balum left them there, in the darkest shadows of the buildings to watch over the wagon until he returned.
He snaked his way through the streets and back to Angelique’s. He approached from the backside and used his key to enter. Inside it was quiet. Angelique had closed early and the Danes were in their rooms.
Balum ascended the stairs and knocked lightly at Angelique’s door. She opened it nearly as soon as his knuckles left the wood. She held a candle in front of her chest, and Balum nearly forgot what he had intended to say when he saw her. He didn’t know where a woman could find clothing such as she wore, but he wished all women dressed as she did.
She gave him a pat on the chest. ‘Well?’
‘You ready to go?’
‘Not like this. Let me put some clothes on.’
She turned and set the candle on a nightstand. She left Balum standing in the doorway, and did not bother to shut the door as she undressed. She let her clothing fall from her body, revealing the soft curves of her skin in the candlelight, and dressed in front of him as he watched. She put on a pair of trousers tailored for a man, a couple thick sweaters and boots built for traipsing through the mud. Dressed as she was, there was still no hiding the beauty of her face. When she moved, the sway of her hips and the rise of her breasts under the bulky clothes betrayed what was underneath.
‘How far of a ride is it out to Witney’s?’
‘Under a half hour on horseback. But pulling the wagon, and with us needing to take a roundabout route and come up on the northern side, it might take us nearly two hours.’
‘That’s fine You get your horse from the livery?’
‘He’s waiting outside.’
Balum stood in the doorway. She looked at him, her eyes fierce, cutting through him. ‘You want to tell me that I don’t have to do this,’ she said. ‘That it’s dangerous and I can stay put right here.’
He looked at her, but did not answer.
‘Nonsense,’ she said, and snuffed out the candle.
He turned, and she swatted him on the ass and closed the door behind her.
30
‘Angelique, this is Charles, Joe, and Will. Boys; Angelique.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you gentlemen.’
The men took their hats off and greeted her, clearly surprised at the appearance of their driver. Despite her rough clothing, the beauty of her face was undeniable, and the shape of her body could make men’s trousers and sweaters look like fine lingerie.
The men led the horse to the front of the wagon and backed it up. They took off its saddle and threw it in the back of the wagon, then draped the hame and collar around its neck. They connected the harness traces to the leader bar and latched the center shaft to the pole strap of the harness. Then Charles, Joe and Will climbed in the back of the wagon with the dynamite, and Balum and Angelique took seats on the driver’s bench.
They rode south until the sound of the wagon was out of reach from the town, then turned west. They moved slowly. Ruts and stones in the ground were difficult to make out. At each bump the men in the back would steady the bundles of explosives, and slowly let their breath out as they exchanged knowing looks with each other.
They paused often to listen and look into the darkness for signs of danger. But there were none. Only the croaking of frogs and the chirping chorus of crickets accompanied them.
As they neared their destination Angelique would pull up on the reins with more frequency. Each time she did so Balum’s nerves would jump, and he would tighten his grip on his Dragoon, expecting at any moment a flurry of gunfire aimed their way.
The terrain became studded with trees. The wagon was forced to turn erratically in a jagged pattern to avoid them. The horse leaned hard into its traces as the wagon, loaded down with the weight of five individuals, butted up against tree roots and ruts in the ground.
After what seemed like several hours Angelique turned the wagon back east. The change in direction was enough to clue them in that Witney’s place was fast approaching. When Angelique turned the wagon south the men’s eyes strained to see in the darkness. They remained silent, for the last turn of the wagon meant the compound was within hearing distance.
Angelique pulled up on the reins. She leaned to Balum and whispered.
‘We’re near the top of the hill. Where it drops off is steep. Walk on ahead and let me know where to stop.’
Balum hopped off the wagon seat and walked ahead. The wagon followed slowly behind him. They covered a hundred yards at a snail’s pace until Balum turned and put a hand up. They stopped and crawled out of the wagon. They unlatched the center shaft from the pole straps and disconnected the leader bar from the traces.
When the horse was free the men took opposing corners of the buckboard and gripped the undercarriage with their hands. On a soft count of three they twisted the wagon until the front end was turned completely around. The wagon tongue would not interfere when the wagon was sent barreling down the hillside, and would instead simply drag along the ground.
They took the hame and trace sleeves off the horse and discarded them on the ground along with the trace carrier and line and collar and all the rest of the gear. They saddled the horse for Angelique and she mounted up and took the reins in her hands.
‘You’ll have a half hour,’ said Balum. ‘Should be time to get back. Be safe.’
‘You be safe,’ she said, and bent down and kissed him. She turned her horse and rode north and disappeared into the night.
Charles and Joe and Will and Balum leaned together on the buckboard.
‘I’ll be goddamned Balum,’ whispered Charles once she was out of sight. ‘You’re here not but a few days and you’ve got the prettiest gal in the Dakota Territories risking her life for you and kissing you on the lips.’
Joe and Will restrained their laughter.
‘And you can’t tell me with a straight face it took you that long to find that gal down in Mexico,’ he continued. ‘And me sitting with those knife-wielders just a waiting to skin me alive.’
Balum shushed him but could not contain his laughter either, and soon Balum and Joe and Will were holding their noses and cupping their mouths and laughing into the crooks of their elbows.
‘No story to tell my ass,’ said Charles. ‘I thought I smelled perfume on you when you showed up at the hotel, you dog.’
They stood in the cool night air, arms leaning on the sideboards of the wagon, listening to the sounds of the night as the clouds let go their cover of moonlight. They whispered to each other in low voices. The superficiality of their conversation gave away the depth of concern they felt about the impending raid. They did not speak of the details until the half hour had nearly passed, and the particulars of their plan demanded attention.
Charles would remain with the
wagon, light the fuses and push it over the hill. The other three would need to reach the stables on foot before he did so. Finding their horses in the dark, in the interior of an unfamiliar building was difficult enough; getting them saddled and bridled was probably hoping too much.
Will’s job would be to ride back up the hill with Charles’s horse in tow. That meant Balum and Joe needed to cause a distraction long enough for Will to cover the distance without being noticed or shot.
Of the countless unknowns and pitfalls of their bare-bones plan, they said nothing. Six months working side by side had built a level of trust and familiarity with each other that made the holes in their plan easy enough to overlook.
Ten minutes. As close as Charles could count them off, and the wagon would be headed downhill. In it’s path lay the bunkhouse and next to it, the ranch house. The stables were close, but not close enough to risk getting hit by the wagon.
They left Charles with enough matches to light the fuses twenty times over, and eased themselves down the face of the hill. Over halfway down they dug their heels in and flattened themselves on the ground. A man had emerged from the rear stable doors. He took several steps from the stable and unbuckled his trousers and pissed. When he finished he reentered the stable and pulled the door shut behind him.
Balum, Joe and Will continued their descent, but nearing the stable they swung wide of the rear doors. The length of the building had ventilation cutouts at each stall. The holes were small and square, cut high in the walls but large enough for a man to fit through.
Crouched below one of these cutouts near the center point of the stable, they huddled together.
‘We can’t all go over, we’ll make too much noise,’ whispered Balum.
‘Lift me in,’ said Joe. ‘If they catch me dropping in you’ll know it. Otherwise give me thirty seconds then come through the rear doors.’
Balum and Will nodded. Joe removed his boots. Balum knelt on all fours, and Joe stepped onto his back. The added height brought his hands to the cutout edge. He gripped it, jumped, and landed his toes softly against the side of the building. From there he hoisted his body up and swung a leg over the edge of the hole. He swung the other leg up and then dropped from their sight.
Rustlers Page 12