“That wasn’t funny!” a woman’s voice said. Her protest was met with by more laughter.
Ackerman went into the saloon and stepped up to the bar.
There was a man standing behind the bar with his arms folded across his chest. He was nearly bald but had narrow sideburns that flared out into a beard, though the chin and above his lip were clean shaven. This was Hodge Dempster, owner of the saloon.
“Major Ackerman,” Dempster said, greeting him. “It’s good to see you again. Are your men all with you?”
“They are indeed.”
“Good, good, all the business folks in town will be happy to know that. Your boys are big spenders, and we all appreciate that.”
Ackerman put a coin on the bar with a snapping sound. “Will this get me a drink?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” the bartender said, starting toward him.
“No, it won’t,” Dempster said. “At least-wise not the first one. The first drink is on the house. You and your men are some of the best customers our town has.”
“That’s very nice of you to say so,” Ackerman replied.
Ackerman looked at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar, and he hated what he was seeing. He had always made a point to keep his uniforms spotlessly clean, and he wore them with pride. The clothes he was wearing now, denim trousers and a white shirt, were nothing like the dash of his spotless uniforms.
It had been at least a week, maybe longer, since these clothes had been cleaned . . . or even since the last time he had taken them off. He knew that both he and the clothes he was wearing reeked of every odor imaginable, but he considered himself on campaign, so he not only tolerated it, he had almost gotten used to the smell, at least enough that he could tolerate himself. And that took a lot of toleration, because there were so many layers of dirt and filth on his skin that he couldn’t even see his skin.
The bartender poured a shot of whiskey for Ackerman, then started to walk away.
“Leave the bottle,” Ackerman called out to him.
“Sure thing,” the bartender said.
“How much is the bottle?” Ackerman asked.
“Six dollars,” the bartender replied.
“Six dollars?” Ackerman shook his head, then looked up at Dempster. “You do realize, don’t you, that that is twice as much as it is anywhere else? I can afford it, but I am sure there are many here who can’t. Do they never complain?”
“Where else are my customers going to get whiskey?” Dempster replied. “There are two other saloons in town, the Pig Palace and the Rattlesnake Den, and we all charge the same. Like I say, it isn’t likely that none of our customers are goin’ to be buyin’ in Helena, or Deer Lodge, or Bozeman now, is it?”
Ackerman laughed. “You’ve got a point there,” he said. “I might even be talked into buying into this business, if you’re willing to sell part of it.”
“Now why would I want to do that? I’ve got a license to steal,” Dempster said, then he laughed out loud. “A license to steal in Purgatory. I like that.”
“Real clever.” Ackerman poured himself a drink, which he tossed down fast, feeling the raw burn of it going down his throat. Then he poured a second glass, this time to sip.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Mo Fong and Harvey Hood had been sitting at a table in the back of the saloon when Ackerman came in. They watched the deference everyone paid to him, then Fong leaned over to speak to one of the other saloon patrons.
“Who is that fella there, that ever’ body is cottonin’ up to?”
“That’s Major Ackerman.”
“Major? You mean he’s in the army? He ain’t in uniform. And what’s he doin’ here?”
“You mean you ain’t never heard of Major Ackerman?”
Fong shook his head. “Nope, I can’t say as I have.”
“Well, he used to be in the army, see, only he got out. But now he has him a bunch of men that ride with him and they get by with purt’ nigh anythin’ they want. They hold up stagecoaches, they rob banks, and there ain’t nothin’ no sheriff or anyone can do to ’em, ’cause there’s too many of ’em. And, they say he treats ’em just like they was still in the army. When they ride somewhere, they always ride in formation. And they have to call him major, and yes, sir and no, sir, and all that, just like they was really in the army. But it’s ’cause they’re like an army that they can fight off just about anyone that might be dumb enough to want to come after ’em. I heard tell that last year, after they held up a bank up in Clendennin that the sheriff got up a posse of twenty men. Most of ’em had money in the bank, so it was their own money that was stole, you see.
“Well sir, that sheriff and his twenty-man posse tracked down Ackerman and his men and cornered ’em in a gulch in the Belt Mountains. And when all the shootin’ was over, not a one of Ackerman’s men had so much as a scratch, but only three men of the posse made it back alive. The sheriff and seventeen of the posse was left lyin’ there dead.”
“Yeah, but with that many men, it ain’t likely there’s much money in ridin’ with him, is it? I mean it has to be divided up into too many shares.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Seems like ever’ time they come into town, they got more money than just about anyone else.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yeah, it sure is. I asked him oncet could I join, only he said no on account of I wasn’t never in the army.”
The man they were talking to finished his beer, then stood up. “I’d better be goin’. All I do when I’m in here is spend money, and I ain’t got that much left to spend”
Fong watched him leave. “Did you hear what that fella said about ever’ one that rides with Ackerman has a lot of money to spend?” he asked Hood. “And how he only wants you if you was ever in the army? Me ’n you was in the army before we deserted.”
“Yeah. I also heard how they are treated like they’re still in the army, yes, sir, and no, sir, and all that. That’s how come me ’n you deserted in the first place.”
“The only money we’ve made since we come here is what little we’ve got from muckin’ out the stalls over at the stable, and cleanin’ out the spittoons and moppin’ the floor here. And the only pay we get for that is food. Hell, we ain’t much better off now than when we was in prison.”
“Yeah, but you said we was goin’ to go out and pull us a job somewhere real soon.”
“I said that, but wouldn’t it be better if we could ride with Ackerman? We’d make a lot more money, and there wouldn’t be no danger of us gettin’ caught.”
“Yeah, I guess it would. Do you think he’d let us ride with ’im?”
“It won’t hurt none to ask,” Fong answered.
Ackerman saw a bar girl he knew, and he motioned to her. She looked away as if she didn’t see him, but he knew that she had.
“Bart,” Ackerman called to the bartender.
“Yes, sir, Major?”
“Tell Peggy that I want to see her.”
The bartender nodded, then went down to the other end of the bar. “Peggy, Major Ackerman wants to see you.”
“Please, Bart,” Peggy said. “Don’t make me go to bed with him. He . . . he,” she paused in midsentence, remembering that Ackerman had warned her not to say anything about his sexual habits.
“He what?”
“Look at how dirty he is,” she finally said.
Bart laughed. “You know what a highfalutin dresser he is. He ain’t about to ask anyone to go to bed with him lookin’ like he does now. Anyhow, that’s not what he wants. He just wants to see you about somethin’.”
Peggy nodded, then walked down to Ackerman and forced a smile. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said.
“No, I’ve been keeping busy.” Ackerman took a ten-dollar bill from his billfold and gave it to her. “I want you to do me a favor.”
Peggy looked at the money. That was as much as she made in three good days. She didn’t know what Ackerman wanted, but she screwed up her
courage and gritted her teeth. If he wanted to slap her around for ten dollars, she would let him.
“All right, honey,” Peggy said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. “What do you want me to do?”
“I’ve got a woman locked up over in the jail,” Ackerman said. “I want you to go across the street to Annie’s Café and get something for her supper. You can keep the change.”
Now the smile on Peggy’s face was genuine. Even with everything costing more in Purgatory than anywhere else, the most expensive meal at Annie’s was still only two dollars. That would leave her eight dollars.
“All right, yes, I’d be glad to,” Peggy said, and taking the money, she hurried out of the saloon before Ackerman could ask anything else of her. The street was still relatively empty and the saloons quiet, but that was normal. Purgatory didn’t come alive until after dark.
Fong watched Ackerman say a few words to the bar girl, then he saw her leave.
“If we’re goin’ to ask, this would be about as good a time as any,” Fong said. “Come on. And remember, it’s just like bein’ in the army. Yes, sir, no, sir, and all that.”
“All right,” Hood said.
The two men walked up to the bar, just as Ackerman turned to pour himself another drink.
“Mist . . . uh, that is, Major Ackerman. My name is Mo Fong. This here is my friend, Harvey Hood. I was wonderin’ if maybe we could talk to you? Uh, I mean sir.”
“What do you want to talk about?” Ackerman asked.
“Well, sir, me’n Harvey here, we used to be in the army. An’ when we heard that you was runnin’ a bunch of men like an army, and you was holdin’ up stagecoaches an’ banks an’ the like an’ there couldn’ nobody do nothin’ to you, why, we got to wonderin’ if maybe you could use another couple of good men.”
“Good men, are you?” Ackerman asked. He poured himself another drink, but he didn’t offer one to Fong or Hood.
“Yes, sir, we’re good men. We can ride and shoot real good.”
“Do you know why no sheriff’s posse can touch us?” Ackerman asked.
“Yes, sir, I know,” Hood said. “It’s ’cause they’s too many of you.”
“That is not the reason.”
“I know the reason, Major,” Fong said.
“What is the reason, Mr. Fong?”
“Because you are a good commander, and your men know how to take orders. And that is somethin’ that me ’n Hood is just real particular good at.”
“You can take orders, can you?”
“Yes, sir, we can.”
“Bart?” Ackerman called to the bartender.
“Yes, sir, Major?”
“Bring two more glasses for Privates Fong and Hood.”
“Thank you, Major!” Fong said.
“How much money do you have right now?” Ackerman asked.
The smile left Fong’s face. “Oh, Major, if, uh, me ’n Hood have to pay to join up with you, you’re goin’ to have to wait ’til we do another job. I only got a dollar and twenty cents.”
“And I ain’t even got a whole dollar,” Hood said.
“How are you eating?”
“Mr. Dempster, he feeds us free for workin’ about the place here.”
Ackerman reached into his pocket, removed his billfold, and took out two ten-dollar bills. He gave one to Fong and one to Hood.
“Here is a little advance for you,” he said.
“Thank you!” Fong said enthusiastically. Hood added his thanks as well.
“Bart?” Ackerman called.
“Yes, sir?”
“Get me a pencil and a piece of paper.”
The bartender reached under the bar and came up with a sheet of paper and a pencil, then slid it across to Ackerman, who wrote:
Privates Mo Fong and Harvey Hood have been inducted into Ackerman’s Raiders.
“Find Sergeant Casey and give this to him.”
“Uh, where will we find him, sir?” Fong asked. Ackerman smiled. “He is in town somewhere, but I have no idea where. Finding him will be your first assignment.”
“Yes, sir,” Fong said. “Come on, Harvey. Let’s go find Sergeant Casey.”
Ten miles south of Purgatory, Falcon, Morgan, and Matthew were still following the trail when Falcon saw something strange on the ground. “Wait a minute,” he said, holding his hand up to stop his two brothers. He stared at the ground. “This can’t be an accident.”
“What is it? What have you seen?”
“Look at this stick on the ground. With the two pieces, it’s forming an arrow.”
When Falcon dismounted, the other two did as well.
“No, it has to be an accident,” Morgan said. “I mean the sticks were broken and just fell this way.”
“Huh, uh. It’s too perfect,” Falcon said. “Somehow Mary Kate was able to leave this for us.”
“Well look at it, at the way it’s pointing,” Morgan said. “What’s it pointing to? There’s nothing that way but the edge of the trail.”
“Maybe it is real, but it wasn’t left by Mary Kate,” Matthew suggested. “Have you thought about that?”
“Well if Mary Kate didn’t leave it, who did?” Falcon asked.
“Maybe Ackerman. Maybe he’s trying to throw us off the trail.”
“Well, pointing to a two-hundred-foot drop-off isn’t going to throw us off the trail. You can only go about fifty more feet in that direction,” Morgan said. “No, I still think it’s just a coincidence that the sticks fell in that position.”
“Like you said, Morgan, you can only go fifty more feet in that direction, so how much time will it take to check it out?”
Morgan nodded. “Yes, you have a point there. We may as well check it out. Maybe she did leave it there, maybe there’s something at the bottom of the hill.”
“Or, maybe if we go there we can see something over on the next mountain,” Falcon suggested.
Ground-tethering their horses, the three men walked over to the edge and looked to the south. There was nothing but another mountain, about a mile across the divide from them.
“Do you see anything over there? A cabin? A mine? A cave, maybe?” Falcon asked.
“I don’t see a damn thing, little brother, except trees and rocks,” Matthew said.
“I guess Morgan is right. Maybe it isn’t anything but a fluke.”
“No, you’re right, Falcon. It’s not a fluke,” Morgan said. “Come look at this.”
Falcon and Matthew walked over to see what Morgan was pointing to. There, scratched in the dirt on the ground were the words: PURGATORY MARY KATE.
“Purgatory?” Matthew said, scratching his head. “What do you think that means?”
“Other than halfway to hell, I don’t have any idea what it means,” Falcon said. “But it has to mean something, or Mary Kate wouldn’t have taken the risk she did of leaving the message for us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Annie, who ran Annie’s café, was a friend of Peggy’s and had, at one time, been on the line just like Peggy was now. But Annie had gotten old, and fat, so the time came when no man, no matter how desperate he was for female companionship, would have anything to do with her. However, she had seen that coming and had prepared for it. She took what money she had managed to save and started a café. Ironically, she was now making more money from the café than she had ever made when she was “in the profession.”
“Hello, Peggy,” Annie greeted when Peggy went into the café. “Are you going to eat with me tonight?”
“Yes,” Peggy said. “No,” she corrected.
“Well, which is it? Yes, or no?”
“Major Ackerman is in town,” Peggy said.
“Yes, I know. That’s some of his boys back there,” Annie said, pointing to a table where four men were sitting, eating, laughing, and talking.
“Yes, well, he brought a woman with him.”
“Really? Major Ackerman has a woman friend, and she’s actually riding with him?”
&nb
sp; Peggy shook her head. “No, I don’t think it’s like that,” she said. “Ackerman told me that he has her locked up in jail.”
“What? He brought a woman with him, and now he has her locked up in jail? What for?”
“I don’t know. But he wants me to take supper to her. What have you got that I can take with me? I need something I can put in a basket.”
“Fried chicken, biscuits, mashed potatoes, gravy. Oh, and I made blueberry pie today, it’s just real good.”
Peggy smiled. “You know what, that sounds so good that I think I’ll have it as well. I tell you what, put together two meals. I’ll eat my supper with her and find out what this is all about.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea. Tell me when you find out, will you? I’m curious as all get out as to why he would bring a woman with him. And especially why he would put her in jail.”
“All right.”
“Hey, Peggy, you goin’ to be available later tonight?” Powell called to her from the table where Ackerman’s men were sitting, having their supper.
“I’m always available for you, honey,” Peggy replied with a broad smile.
“My, oh, my, Zeke, I do believe that gal is in love with you,” Baker said.
“Oh, I am in love with him,” Peggy said. “I’m in love with any of you, as long as you got money.”
“Ha! Do you hear that? She loves all of us!” Jerrod said, and the men laughed.
In truth, Peggy would rather be with Powell, or with any of Ackerman’s men, than with Ackerman. She didn’t understand someone like Ackerman. His men rarely bathed, rarely changed clothes, were rough talkers and heavy drinkers. Ackerman was always so precise with his personal appearance, but where none of his men had ever hurt her, Ackerman beat her the last time he was with her. She hadn’t done anything to anger him, there was no reason for it, he just seemed to enjoy beating her. Afterward, he didn’t apologize, but he did pay her double what her normal fee was.
“Here’s your supper, honey,” Annie said then, handing Peggy a basket that was covered by a red and white checkered cloth. “Just bring the plates and silverware and glasses back when you’re finished. I’ve included a mason jar of tea for you to drink.”
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