Fourteen
Gabe Harland and Pete Ward started through the narrow draw that led through the south range of the Laramie Mountains and into a hidden valley. Suddenly, a rifle shot rang out. The bullet hit the sheer rock side of the wall, then ricocheted back with a loud singing whine that echoed and re-echoed throughout the length of the narrow pass.
“What the hell!” Pete shouted, pulling his horse back around the bend in the pass, and out of the line of fire. “Why are they shooting at us?”
“Wait a minute, Pete,” Gabe called to the rider in front of him. “Don’t go in there yet.”
“Why not? This here is the place where we’re supposed to meet ’em at, ain’t it?”
“Don’t you remember that Eddie Jordan give us these pieces of red cloth to put on our hat so’s we can let ’em know who we are?”
“Oh,” Pete said. “Yeah, I forgot.”
“Uh-huh, an’ forgettin’ is what near ’bout got your ass shot off.”
The two pulled the red cloths from their saddlebags, then, as instructed, stuck the cloths down into the headbands of their hats.
“Wait a minute,” Gabe said.
“Wait for what?”
Gabe took the red cloth off his hat and tied it on the end of his rifle.
“What are you doin’ that for?”
“I think we’d better let ’em know about the red cloth before we go in again,” Gabe said.
Dismounted, he walked up to the turn in the narrow draw, then stuck the rifle out around the corner and waved it up and down several times.
“You think that’ll do it?” Pete asked.
“I don’t know,” Gabe said. “I hope so. Ride on in now, real slow.”
“Me ride in? Why should I ride in?”
“ ’Cause you’re the one that got us into this predicament in the first place,” Gabe said. “You’re the one who rode in without so much as a fare-thee-well and with no red in your hat.”
Pete paused for a moment. “All right, I’ll ride in. But you stay out of my way because if they shoot again, I’m hightailin’ it out of there.”
“Hold your hands up as you ride in. Maybe if they see that, they’ll see that we’re comin’ as friends.”
With the piece of red cloth prominently displayed on his hat, Pete rode back around the corner of the draw with his hands held up.
“All right,” Pete said. “They ain’t a’shootin’ this time. Come on, let’s go on in.”
Cautiously, Gabe put the red cloth back into his hatband and came into the draw behind Pete. They urged their mounts ahead and the horses picked their way through the narrow draw, the hoof falls on the rocky floor echoing back from the encroaching walls.
“Hey, Gabe, you got you sort of a prickly feelin’ on the back of your neck? Like we’re bein’ watched?” Pete asked.
“ ’Course we’re bein’ watched,” Gabe replied.
As they got closer, someone suddenly appeared, standing on top of a large overhang ahead of them. He was holding a rifle as he stared down at them.
Because Pete was still leading the way, he was the only one of the two to see him.
“Hold it, Gabe,” Pete said. “Take a look up there.”
Looking up, Gabe saw the man watching them. Gabe made a big show of taking off his hat, and pointing to the splash of red in his hatband. The man on the rock held out his hand as if to stop them, then pulled his pistol.
“What the hell is he a’doin’?” Pete asked.
“Wait,” Gabe said. “Don’t move or do nothin’ till he tells us to.”
The man on the rock fired his pistol into the air, two shots, a pause, then a third shot.
After the echoes of his shooting died, there came back an answering signal, the rhythmic patter just the opposite of the first signal. This time it was one shot, a pause, and then two shots.
The man on the rock waved his hand, motioning for them to come on in.
The entrance to the hidden valley was long and twisting, and in places so narrow that it barely afforded enough space for one horse and rider to squeeze through. When they finally emerged at the other end, they were met by Eddie Jordan, the man who had not only given them the red cloth, but had provided them with the directions on how to get there.
“Hello, Eddie,” Gabe said.
“Hello, Gabe, Pete,” Eddie Jordon replied. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?”
“No. But I’m glad you told us about the red cloth. Otherwise, we might be lyin’ belly-down back in the draw.”
“No ‘might be’ to it,” another man said, coming up to greet them then. “You would be dead.”
“Who are you?” Gabe asked.
“This here is Poke,” Eddie said.
“Poke?”
“You got a problem with that name?” Poke asked.
“No, I don’t have a problem,” Gabe said.
“Poke here will take you to meet the boss,” Eddie said.
“Why can’t you take us?”
“I got you in here,” Eddie said. “I don’t need to hold your hand.”
As Gabe and Pete followed Poke, they looked around. There had evidently been a homestead here at one time and some of the original buildings remained. A large red barn, badly faded from years of exposure to the weather, was the biggest building noticeable. There was also a two-story house near the barn, part of the original homestead. In addition, there were a few buildings constructed of shale rock and mud, a few more made of twigs and mud, and at least half-a-dozen tents and a few lean-tos. One enterprising soul had constructed a hasty saloon by stretching a plank across two empty barrels. A handful of men were standing by the makeshift bar, availing themselves of the services.
A short distance away from the improvised saloon, four men were tossing horseshoes. The clank of one of the tossed shoes elicited groans from two of them, and cheers from the other two. At still another location a few men were sitting by a fire, cooking something, while at various other locations in the camp men were engaged in activities from playing mumblety-peg to just talking. And to Gabe and Pete’s surprise, they saw a few women as well.
“What is this place?” Pete asked. “Damn me if this don’t almost look like a town.”
“Well, it’s sort of like a town. We call it Last Chance,” Poke said.
“But is it a real town? I mean, I see that some of the men have their wives here. Funny, though, I don’t see no kids.”
“You don’t see no kids ’cause there ain’t no kids. Them women ain’t wives. They’re whores,” Poke said.
“Is there a sheriff, or anything like that?”
“Ain’t got a sheriff, and I don’t figure this would be too hospitable a place for a sheriff.”
When they reached the original house, still the most substantial of all the buildings, Poke pointed to a hitching rail in front of the house.
“You can tie your horses up here until you’ve had your meeting.”
“What meeting?” Gabe asked.
“Johnny likes to meet with ever’body when they first come into Last Chance.”
“Johnny who?”
“Johnny Purvis. This is his house,” Poke said.
“This looks a lot like a ranch,” Gabe said. “Did Johnny build it?”
Poke laughed. “Johnny don’t build nothin’,” he said. “He just takes whatever he wants or needs.”
“What happened to the people who built it?”
“Damn, you ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Poke said. “This ain’t a place where we ask questions.”
“Ain’t he goin’ to ask us some questions?” Pete asked.
“Yeah, but that’s different.”
“What’s different about it?”
“You don’t think he’s going to just let anybody ride in here, do you?”
“What should we tell him?”
“How the hell do I know what to tell him?” Poke replied. “Look, I’m just pointin’ out the house to you two boys. I sure as h
ell didn’t take you to raise.”
Gabe and Pete watched as Poke left; then they walked up the little rocky path that led to the house and knocked on the door.
“Yeah, come in!” a muffled voice replied.
Gabe opened the door and the two of them stepped inside. They saw a big man sitting at the table, eating beans.
“Who are you?” the big man asked, looking up as Gabe and Pete came into the room.
“My name’s Gabe Harland, Mr. Purvis. This here is Pete Ward.”
“I ain’t Johnny,” the big man said.
“I thought this was Mr. Purvis’s house,” Gabe said.
“It is his house. I’m his brother, Carney. Johnny’s out back, takin’ a piss.”
At that moment the back door opened and a man came in. He was tall, with dark eyes and a black, sweeping mustache. He had a dark, very visible scar on his left cheek.
“Are you Johnny?” Gabe asked.
“I’ll ask the questions here,” the man replied. “Who are you?” He stroked the scar on his cheek.
“Oh. Uh, well, I’m Gabe Harland and this is Pete Ward. If you’re Johnny, we was told to tell you that Eddie Jordan talked to you about us. I don’t know if you remember or anything.”
“I remember,” Johnny said.
Gabe waited for him to say something else, and when the pregnant pause grew uncomfortably long, he cleared his throat and spoke again.
“The thing is . . . I thought ... well, that is, Eddie said, you might have some kind of job for us.”
“That depends,” Johnny replied.
“Depends on what?”
“On whether or not you can follow orders.”
“Who’s givin’ the orders?” Gabe asked.
“I give the orders,” Johnny said. “Do you have any trouble with that?”
Gabe and Pete looked at each other for a moment before Gabe answered. “I ain’t got no problem with takin’ orders,” he said.
“How about you?” Johnny asked Pete. “Do you have any problem with takin’ orders?”
Pete shook his head. “No,” he said. “I ain’t got a problem with that.”
Johnny nodded. “Good. You follow instructions and we’ll get along just fine. And you’ll make yourselves a lot of money.”
Both Gabe and Pete smiled.
“We’re all for makin’ money,” Pete said.
“How are we goin’ to do it?” asked Gabe.
“I’m goin’ to have a meetin’ this afternoon,” Johnny said. “You show up for that meeting and you’ll find out ever’thing you need to know.”
“We’ll be there,” Gabe said.
“Good,” Johnny said.
“Johnny, they’s some beans there in the can if you’re hungry,” Carney said.
“Thanks.”
Johnny picked up the can and began eating beans, but when he noticed that neither Gabe nor Pete left, he stopped eating and looked up at them. “Why are you still here?” he asked.
Pete and Gabe looked at each other, then, by silent agreement, Gabe spoke for both of them.
“Speakin’ of tonight,” he said. “Where are me and Pete supposed to sleep?”
“Where’d you sleep last night?” Johnny asked, shoveling a spoonful of beans into his mouth.
“We just throw’d us out a bedroll on the trail,” Pete said.
Johnny nodded. “Sounds like a good enough plan to me.”
When the two men went outside, they saw Eddie waiting for them.
“What do you think?” Eddie asked.
“Think about what? He didn’t tell us nothin’,” Gabe said.
“Except we’re goin’ to have a meeting this afternoon.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Accordin’ to what I hear, he’s got a job planned that’s so big it’s goin’ to make us rich.”
Pete shook his head. “I don’t know. I count at least a dozen men here. It’s goin’ to take an awful lot of money to make all of us rich.”
“This is sort of an outlaws’ roost,” Eddie said. “Which means that ever’one here is wanted by the law for one thing or another. But it don’t mean that ever’one here is goin’ to be a part of what Johnny is cookin’ up. But the ones that is, is goin’ to make a lot of money. Or so they say.”
“Who is ‘they’?” Gabe asked.
“They,” Eddie said without further explanation.
* * *
That same afternoon, just after lunch, Gabe, Pete, Eddie, Poke, Carney, and several others, though not all of the men in camp, were gathered around the front of Johnny’s cabin. Johnny stepped outside and looked at all of them for a moment, then nodded.
“Boys, I’m about to tell you what I’ve got planned,” he said. “If you ain’t interested, walk away now.”
“Is there shootin’ involved?” one of the men asked.
“There might be,” Johnny said.
“Then I ain’t interested.”
“All right. Ain’t nobody sayin’ you got to come,” Johnny said. “Anybody else not interested?”
“Is it true, like they’re saying, that there’s a lot of money to be made?” another man asked.
“That’s true,” Johnny said.
“Look here, Johnny, whatever you got planned, it ain’t goin’ to bring the law down on us in here, is it?” one of the others asked. “We got us a good thing in here.”
“Don’t you be worryin’ about it, Quincy. It ain’t goin’ to bring the law in here,” Johnny said. “Now, are you staying or walkin’ away? I only want men I can count on.”
“I’m walkin’ away,” Quincy said. “Any of you comin’ with me?”
Quincy looked at all the others, and while a few shifted their weight nervously from foot to foot, none of them joined him.
“Fine,” Quincy said. “I wish you fellas good luck, but count me out.”
Johnny nodded, then waited until Quincy was out of hearing range.
“All right,” he said. “From this point on, you are all in on the deal.”
“What is the deal?” Gabe asked.
“Maybe some of you boys don’t know what’s goin’ on in Laramie right now,” Johnny said. “So I’m going to tell you. There is going to be a special auction take place in a few days, where several head of the best blooded Hereford cattle will be sold.”
“That’s it?” one of the men said. “We’re going to steal cows? To hell with that. If I wanted to be a cowboy, I’d still be riding for twelve dollars a month and found.”
“We aren’t going to be stealing cows,” Johnny said. “What we are going to steal is the money that has been brought into town to buy these cows.”
“How much money will that be?”
“Conrad Kohrs will be there,” Johnny said. “Also Shanghai Pierce, Alexander Swan, and John Wesley Iliff, just to name a few. I figure, all told, there will be at least fifty of the richest cattlemen in the country there, and they’ll probably bring about ten thousand dollars apiece to have ready for the auction. That’s half a million dollars,” he said.
The response from the men was instantaneous as they began babbling in excitement. Johnny held up his hands to call for quiet. “As you can see,” he said, “that is plenty enough money for all of us.”
“What’s the plan?” Pete asked.
“I’ll let the rest of you in on the plan as soon as I think you need to know,” he said.
“How do you know all these people you said are there?” Gabe asked.
“Because I have someone in town, keeping me up on what’s going on. When it’s time to make our move, I’ll know, then I’ll tell you. In the meantime, make sure your horses are healthy and your guns are in good working order. You have to be ready to go the moment I give you the word.”
“Hey, Johnny, I count ten of us here,” one of the men said. “So, what you’re sayin’ is, we’ll be getting fifty thousand dollars apiece?”
Johnny shook his head. “It won’t be ten people dividing half a million dollars. It’ll be nine p
eople dividing a quarter of a million.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I figure that because I’m takin’ half of whatever we get for myself.”
“The hell you say. If you take half of the money, I don’t want no part of it.”
Johnny pulled his pistol and pointed it at the protester. He cocked the hammer.
“It’s too late,” Johnny said. “You might remember I told you that if you wanted no part of it, you should leave. Now, you can’t leave, so you have a choice. You can take your share of a quarter of a million dollars, or you can die.”
“Don’t be a fool, Metz,” one of the others said to the man who was protesting. “Your share of a quarter of a million will come to over twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“Twenty-five thousand?” Metz asked. The expression of fear on his face was replaced by a wide grin. “Oh, well, hell, why didn’t you say so? Count me in.”
Johnny continued to hold the gun pointed at Metz for a long moment, the hammer held back by his thumb. He held it for so long that the smile on Metz’s face disappeared to be replaced, once again, by an expression of fear.
Finally, Johnny eased the hammer down, and put his pistol back in his holster. “I’ll not be questioned again, by anyone,” he said. “Do I make myself clear?”
There was dead silence from the men.
“Do I make myself clear?” he asked again, this time in clipped words that demanded a response.
“Yes,” the men all answered as one.
“Good. Now we understand each other.”
Johnny went back into his cabin and the others drifted away singly, or in pairs, or small groups. After a moment of contemplation over how close they’d come to seeing one of their number killed, they began thinking of how much money each of them might make, and as a result, began talking about it in excited voices.
“You think Johnny would have killed Metz?” Pete asked.
“Yeah,” Poke said. “He would have killed him.”
“I don’t mind tellin’ you, Johnny ain’t the kind of man I feel easy about ridin’ for,” Pete said. “What do you think, Gabe?”
“What do I think?” Gabe replied. “I think that, for the kind of money we’re talking about, I’d soak my pants in coal oil and ride for the devil himself.”
Pride of Eagles Page 13