by F. M. Parker
“But we can ...,” Errin started to speak.
“I’m going,” Celeste said with finality. “Ignacio, saddle my horse.”
The three men hastened to the corral. Shortly they returned mounted, and leading the gray mare. Celeste stood waiting, Ernesto’s pistol belted around her waist.
Errin sat his horse and watched Celeste. He hoped that she would change her mind about going with them. Perhaps mounting without help would convince her she was not in condition to fight a pistol duel. Then Ignacio sprang down to help his mistress.
She motioned him back. “I can do it myself.”
Celeste’s face blanched with the sharp lance of pain as she pulled herself into the saddle. She wiped at the sweat that had suddenly popped out on her forehead. She was not as well or strong as she thought.
She looked at Errin. “You and Vicaro had better hurry on ahead. Ignacio and I will come as fast as we can.”
“Are you ready, Vicaro?” Errin said.
The old bandit nodded and spurred his horse. running their horses at the top of their speed, the two men left the courtyard.
As the horses raced down the winding road toward the valley, Errin looked to the side at Vicaro. The man sat very erect in his saddle. His hat had blown from his head and hung down his back by its cord. His hair streamed out behind in a long white mane in the wind. There was an expression of pleased anticipation on his face. The old bandit wanted to fight. Errin hoped Vicaro was as good with a gun as Celeste had said.
They came off the mountain road and sped north over the valley bottom. Ahead the machines could be seen sitting idle, and the mules, still hitched to them, standing slumped shouldered and resting.
Three armed men were confronting Celeste’s group of workers. A man lay unmoving on the ground. That must be Mavro, thought Errin.
He and Vicaro reined their mounts down to a walk. Both men, acting on one thought, drew their pistols.
“Senor Scanlan, have you ever been in a fight with pistols?” Vicaro asked.
“Yes.”
“Then you know that if a fight begins, you shoot until all your enemies are down and dead. Wounded men are very troublesome. They can still kill you, and if they live, they can testify against you at a trial.”
“None of these will leave here alive.”
Vicaro saw Scanlan’s eyes were hard, and alert like an eagle watching a coiled rattlesnake. Vicaro had never seen an eagle lose a fight with a snake.
“I think you would make a very good bandit,” Vicaro said. “Now let us go talk to these men who are already dead, but don’t know it.”
Errin studied the gathering of men. All were silent and watching Vicaro and him approach.
One of the Spaniards, a thin, hatchet-faced man, said something in a low voice to the other two with him. Errin knew that man was the leader and would give the signal to start the fight. He must be the first one to die.
Celeste’s workers were tense. They shuffled their feet nervously as Errin and Vicaro dismounted and walked toward the Spaniards.
“Why are you three on the land of Celeste Beremendes and threatening her vaqueros?” Vicaro called.
“Who are you, old man, that you question us?” the thin Spaniard replied in a rough voice.
“I am Vicaro Zaragoza. Who are you?”
“I am Gomez.” The Spaniard leader focused on Scanlan for a moment, then back to Vicaro. He had heard of the bandit, but surely he was too old to be much of a fighter. The American now, he should be watched.
Gomez spoke. “I’m here to tell these men that it is dangerous to work for the Beremendes. That they must leave here and now.”
“You’re wrong,” Vicaro said. “I will keep them safe and Scanlan will help me. But you are trespassing and therefore you’re not safe.”
Gomez laughed. “We’re in no danger.”
“You’re very wrong,” Vicaro said in an ugly voice. He swung his pistol up from beside his leg and fired into the center of Gomez’s chest.
Errin, taken by surprise by Vicaro’s abrupt attack on the Spaniards, jerked his pistol up. Gomez was falling. The two men with him were reacting swiftly, their weapons rising to point at Vicaro. By starting the fight, Vicaro would draw the fire of both men. Errin must try to protect the old man. He shot the Spaniard on the left.
Errin’s target twisted to the side and fell. The third Spaniard and Vicaro fired at the same instant. The Spaniard collapsed and lay prone on the ground.
Errin heard a choked cry beside him. He turned to find Vicaro on his knees, his head sagging and his white hair cascading down like a snowfall to cover his face.
With a mighty effort, Vicaro raised his head and shoved the hair out of his eyes. He put a hand over the hole in his chest where the blood poured out. He stared at his dead enemies.
“We killed them all,” he said.
“You’re one hell of a fighting man,” Errin said, kneeling beside Vicaro.
“But a dying one.” Vicaro pressed harder on the wound in his chest and blood ran out between his fingers. “The gringos won’t get to hang me now.” He held himself rigidly erect on his knees. His eyes were full of the animal ferocity that refused to die until the last drop of blood had drained from his body.
He began to shiver as if freezing. His head gradually sank. He crumpled to the side. With a supreme effort, he rolled onto his back. His eyes stared up at the blue sky. His stare became fixed.
“Yes, you are now safe from all your enemies,” Errin said.
He speedily checked the Spaniards. Two were dead. He squatted by Gomez who still breathed, but barely.
Gomez struggled to focus on Errin. “Damn that old bandit, and damn you too. What part did you have in this fight?”
The man was dying and his voice came weakly. Errin bent close to hold the man’s eyes with his own. “Who sent you to stop the Beremendes workers?” he asked.
Gomez did not answer. His eyes were glazing. Errin held the man’s thoughts by only a little spider’s thread. He slapped him savagely. “Who paid you to hurt the Beremendes?” he shouted down at the man. “Tell me, damn you.” He slapped the man again.
Gomez’s eyes fluttered. “Mattoon will kill you.” Gomez’s voice broke and bloody bubbles burst on his mouth. He shuddered and died.
“Mattoon,” Errin repeated and stood up. The man was offering a reward for Chun’s capture and this Errin understood, but why was he ordering men to attack Celeste?
Celeste and Ignacio came up running their horses. They halted their mounts with tight reins.
“You’re not hurt?” Celeste asked Errin.
“No.”
“Vicaro?” she said, jumping down from the back of her mount.
“He’s dead. A damn brave man.”
“I always knew that,” she said as she knelt beside Vicaro and put a tender hand on his gray head. Her tears came and streamed down her face. “My old friend, your debt is more than paid in full.”
As Errin watched Celeste, a chilling fear for her safety washed over him. Mattoon had tried to drive off her workers, or kill them. He had failed. Now he would attack Celeste directly.
He went to his horse and took powder and shot from a saddlebag. As he reloaded the spent chambers of his Colt, he saw Celeste go to Mavro and examine him.
Celeste told two men to carry Mavro to the casa where he could be treated for his injuries, and to take Vicaro there also until his family could claim his body. Ignacio was directed to get a wagon at the hacienda and transport the three dead Spaniards to the law officials in Sacramento. The other men were sent back to work.
Celeste came to Errin’s side. He was looking westward in the direction of San Francisco. His eyes were remote and seemed to have lost their color.
“What is it Errin?”
“A man named Mattoon sent those men to drive away your workers. One of the Spaniards told me that before he died. You’ll not be safe as long as Mattoon lives.”
“Do you think Mattoon and Dokken are
partners against me? Is he hiding behind Dokken?”
“They must be working together. I’ll find out for sure and stop both of them.” He stepped to his horse and yanked himself astride.
“Can’t you wait just for a little while?” Celeste was afraid for Errin.
“No. I must get to San Francisco and find Mattoon and Dokken before they learn about the deaths of these men. I’m certain others will be sent and they’ll come to kill you.”
Celeste’s fear for Errin was growing rapidly. She knew of Mattoon’s skill with a gun, she had seen him shoot. Dokken was also an expert with a pistol. She wanted to tell Errin not to leave her. Yet hadn’t she sought out Dokken with only one purpose in mind, to kill him? Errin and she were very much alike. She could say nothing more to stop him.
With her men watching, Celeste stepped close to Errin and turned up her face. He leaned down and kissed her on the lips.
“Come back,” she said.
“All the hounds of hell couldn’t stop me.”
Chapter 26
Errin ran the black horse north on the road lying between the San Joaquin River and the base of the rugged Diablo Mountains. The straining horse glistened with sweat but sped on its long legs, devouring the miles and the morning. Now and again Errin called encouragement to the animal and petted the sleek, muscular neck. He must reach San Francisco and track Mattoon down before any word could reach and warn him his attack on Celeste’s men had failed.
As the miles fell away behind, the San Joaquin River veered off to the north and the Diablo Mountains dropped away behind Errin. The horse rushed onward and descended onto the broad flood plain of the Sacramento River.
Errin checked the Sacramento some two miles distant and flowing west toward the ocean. A riverboat that could carry him to San Francisco was approaching from upriver. The boat was riding the current, and with its boilers hot and big rear paddle wheel spinning, was approaching rapidly. Before the boat passed, he must reach the farmers’ landing on the river bank and signal it to stop.
He shouted a shrill, keening cry into the ear of the horse and slapped it smartly on the side of the neck. The willing beast responded to the primal call, its nostrils flaring, and its hard hooves pounding the earth, stretching for every inch of distance.
They tore through the willows lining the road and thundered up to the riverbank where Errin pulled the horse to a sliding stop. He sprang down and ran to the dock and hoisted the white flag high on its wooden staff. The wind caught the cloth and sent it flapping.
A moment later, the riverboat gave a blast of its steam whistle in acknowledgment that it had seen the signal, and angled across the brown current toward the landing. The boat reversed the spin of the paddle wheel, and pressed its side to the dock.
Errin led his tired horse aboard among the other passengers and their animals and vehicles. The people moved aside to give him space on the crowded deck. The riverboat pulled back onto the breast of the river, added its speed to that of the current, and bore on toward the coast.
Errin draped his arm over the neck of the horse and turned his face in the direction of San Francisco. A fierce violence seethed and boiled within him. The urge, the burning need to strike at Celeste’s enemies sent a prickle up his spine.
* * *
In late afternoon, the riverboat carrying Errin docked at San Francisco. He hastened ashore, and after leaving the horse at a livery stable, headed immediately for his office. He had to see Levi at once.
He slowed his pace and became wary when he came within sight of the office. The white man in the vehicle on the street paid him no attention. The two white men on the sidewalk nodded a greeting and walked on. A lone Chinaman was leaning against the corner of a building a half block from the office idly watching the traffic go by on the street.
Errin passed under the Scanlan and Coffin sign and entered the office. Levi and George Louden stood talking in the center of the room.
“How did you get here so fast?” Levi asked. “I just sent the messenger for you this morning.”
“I saw no messenger. Why did you send for me?”
“Chun’s dead,” Levi said, his voice breaking. “And they tried to kill me.”
“Axe you hurt?” Errin asked.
“No, I’m all right. Errin, the bastard stabbed Chun to death.”
“How did it happen? Who were they? Tell me all—right from the beginning.” An attack on Levi and Chun had occurred almost at the same time as the one on Celeste. Was there a connection? How could there be?
Levi swiftly told how Turk and Ingram and a third man had come to the office demanding protection money, threatening to burn them out if they didn’t pay. They had seen Chun, who against his wishes, had come to the office. “They caught us on the street and killed Chun before I could stop all of them,” Levi ended.
Louden spoke. “The chief of police is a friend of mine and he told me the bodies of three men were found just a few blocks from your office. Also they found a Spencer rifle. Since I knew Levi owned one, I thought you fellows might’ve been involved in the shooting, so I came to tell you what I’ve learned.”
“Were the police able to identify the men?” Errin asked. His rage at the murderers of Chun and the attempt to kill Levi was growing like some great snake uncoiling in his stomach. Someone would pay dearly for that.
“They knew them,” Louden said. “They were waterfront thugs. Further he said they often hung around the saloon owned by Brol Mattoon.”
“Brol Mattoon, eh? I heard that name this morning. A man spoke it just before he died from a bullet.”
“Your bullet?” Louden asked.
“Whose bullet isn’t important. But the man said Mattoon had sent him and other men to run Celeste Beremendes’s workers off so she couldn’t grow wheat. Do you know what interest Mattoon has in the claim on her land?”
“I know the Beremendeses. I wouldn’t think Mattoon would have any interest in their land. Dokken is the man who is contesting her land grant.”
“Mattoon’s your friend and yet you don’t seem to know much about him. Besides causing Celeste trouble about the title for her land, he might be the man who sent those three waterfront rats here to force protection money from us. Those men killed Chun and could have done the same to Levi. I thought your detectives would have told you all about the important men of the city.”
“Several of us have been curious about Mattoon for we know he has business interests on the waterfront. Besides the saloon, he owns at least one factory that I know about. But many other people have legitimate business interests there. My detectives have reported certain things about him that I don’t like. Still no one has gathered sufficient evidence to bring him to trial on a charge.”
“I’m beginning to think the honest men of the city haven’t tried very hard. Perhaps he’s too big a man for that. Or since Mattoon is such a famous pistol shot, perhaps everybody is afraid he might call them out for a duel on Angel Island and shoot the hell out of them.” Angel Island was the favorite location for duels and many disagreements had been settled there in blood.
“I’m no coward and don’t you think it,” Louden said, bristling with anger.
“Errin, Mr. Louden is our friend,” Levi interjected.
“I believe that too,” Errin said and meant it. The man had simply not checked his associate closely enough. There had been no justification for Errin’s insult. “Mr. Louden, please accept my apology for I overstepped myself and was unfair to you.”
“All right then, apology accepted,” Louden said. He was silent for a few seconds, obviously considering whether or not to speak. “I know what you and Levi plan to do,” Louden said. “But be warned, Mattoon is tough just as you said. Further if it’s true those thugs work for him, then he’ll be hard to get to.”
“Nothing can protect him,” Errin said.
Louden saw the implacable hatred on the faces of the two young men. ‘I may have made a mistake in not investigating Mattoon more thoro
ughly,” he said. “His bank handles much unminted gold and the gold that has been stolen from Wells Fargo could be easily hidden there.”
“Then come with us and help us,” Levi said.
“There isn’t any evidence at this time that he has done anything illegal against Wells Fargo. I’ll start an intensive investigation. Of course if I find evidence, I would first turn it over to the law and see what they do with it.”
Errin shrugged his shoulders. “I have evidence enough, and I don’t have to let the law do anything. Levi and I can handle it by ourselves. It’s getting dark, where would Mattoon be this time of day?”
“He would’ve left the bank by now, if he had been there,” Louden replied. “So he could be home. But like I said, he has other businesses and could be at one of them. Also he is often invited out to parties and card games with other businessmen of the city. He could be at any one of a number of places.”
“Where does he live?” Levi asked.
“He has a beautiful home up high on the hill, on Larkin Street just south of Clay,” Louden replied. He told the two young men how to find the residence.
“Levi, let’s go hunting,” Errin said.
“I’ve just been waiting for you,” Levi said.
“Do you have a gun?”
Levi opened his coat to show a holstered pistol. “I’ll never again go out on the street without this.”
“Then let’s go do it.” Errin led out through the door and onto the street. They turned up the hill.
Ahead of them, a large covered buggy pulled by a team of horses drew away from the curb of the street and came toward them. A Chinaman clothed in a black liveryman’s outfit drove from the open front seat. The rear of the buggy was enclosed by leather curtains that hid the occupants.
“Watch it, Levi,” Errin said as the driver reined his team in close to the sidewalk.
Both men moved back from the street and reached inside their coats to clutch their weapons. At that moment, the side curtain of the buggy was shoved aside and the face of the Scom Lip, the tong chieftain, appeared.
“Mr. Scanlan, and you Mr. Coffin, may I speak with you?” Scom Lip said.