“Half now,” said McCutcheon, “and I’m going to be damned picky before you get the rest. This had better be clean.”
“The more I think about it,” Silver said, “the less I like McCutcheon’s idea of us bein’ here in town a couple more days. I think we’ll make our move tonight.”
“I hope you’ve had some experience cracking a safe,” said Nathan. “I haven’t.”
“I’m fair-to-middlin’ good at it,” Silver said, “but the quickest, least complicated way is to pull a gun on McCutcheon and have him open it for us.”
“I hope you’ve given some thought to us getting out of there alive,” said Nathan.
“You’re only looking at half of it,” Silver replied. “There may be as much hell goin’ in as comin’ out. You can count on a crusty old pelican like McCutcheon havin’ a few killers on his payroll.”
“After supper, then,” said Nathan, “let’s open the ball.”
They waited under after dark before leaving the hotel. Empty, knowing they were going to the cafe, normally loped on ahead, but this time he did not. He crouched, his hackles rising. Nathan leaped forward and, taking Silver with him, they went belly down in the snow. There was the deadly bark of rifles, and like a swarm of angry bees, slugs ripped the air where they had been standing just seconds before. The nearest cover was the hotel, half a dozen yards away and, lizard-like, they scuttled toward it.
“What the hell?” somebody shouted, flinging open the front door of the hotel. Lead ripped into it, slamming it shut. In an instant, Nathan and Silver were on their feet, running toward the side of the building. Empty ahead of them, they ducked into the shadow of the hotel, and the firing ended as suddenly as it had begun.
“By God,” Silver panted, “that was close. If somebody hadn’t opened that door—”
“If it hadn’t been for Empty’s warning,” said Nathan, “the door wouldn’t have made any difference. They’d have got us with the first volley.”
“You’re right,” Silver agreed. “If we get out of this alive, remind me to get myself a hound.”
Nathan laughed, but there was no humor in it. “If we get out of this alive, I’ll likely be tempted to remind you to get yourself another pardner. There’s at least four of the bastards, and none of those were warning shots. Unless they’re thinkin’ ahead of us, we’d better get to the livery and grab our horses.”
“I doubt they’ll be coverin’ the livery,” said Silver. “It’s too close to the hotel, and if I’m any judge, the law will be comin’ to investigate all that shooting. Right now, one bunch is as unwelcome as the other.”
They reached the livery only to be met by questions from the liveryman.
“What was the shootin’ about? Was somebody kilt?”
“No,” said Silver. “Just some drunks blowin’ off steam.”
Quickly they saddled their horses, leading the animals a ways before mounting.
“Now,” Nathan said, “I reckon it’s time we decide what we’re going to do, and how.”
“We’re going after those papers in McCutcheon’s safe,” said Silver, “but because of recent developments, the how of it has been changed somewhat. We definitely won’t be going through the lobby and up the stairs.”
“Through the window, then,” Nathan said.
“Yes,” said Silver. “We can rope one of the chimneys and reach the roof. Then a rope tied to McCutcheon’s chimney should get me down to the window.”
“A lighted window,” Nathan said. “You’ll be a perfect target. All McCutcheon will have to do is shoot you.”
“He won’t be there,” said Silver. “You’re going to cover the chimney with a blanket long enough to fill the room with smoke. While McCutcheon’s gone to raise hell with somebody, you remove the blanket and I’ll enter through the window. When he returns, the smoke will have cleared, and I’ll be waiting for him. Comprende?”
“It’s just crazy enough that it might work,” Nathan said.
“Not only will it work,” said Silver, “McCutcheon will open the window for me.”
“I’m to keep the chimney covered until he leaves the room,” Nathan said, “but how am I to know when he leaves the room?”
“I’ll be to one side of the window, where I can see into the room,” Silver said. “When he leaves the room, I’ll tug hard on the rope.”
“You’re comin’ out the window and back up the rope?”
“Yes,” said Silver. “I’ll tie the free end of the rope until I’m done with McCutcheon.”
“You’d better bind and gag McCutcheon, or he’ll be bawling like a cut bull before we can get off that roof,” Nathan said.
“I don’t think so,” said Silver. “I’ll buffalo him with the muzzle of my Colt.”
“We’ll have to get the hell out of this town pronto,” Nathan said. “I hope you’re not planning to wait for the next train.”
“Oh, we’ll take the train,” said Silver, “but not from here. I reckon we’d better hightail it to Denver, and take a Kansas-Pacific eastbound from there.”
“I feel some better about that,” Nathan said. “Now we’d better get over yonder to the Cattleman’s Club before McCutcheon decides to surround it with gunmen.”
“We can’t be sure they haven’t already,” said Silver, “since their ambush failed. Before we try to scale the roof, we’ll ride around the building and see if we draw any fire.”
“There are trees behind the place,” Nathan said, “and that side of it should be pretty much in shadow. We can leave our horses there, mounting the roof from that side.”
Silver was first to mount the roof. Nathan, a blanket slung over his shoulder, waited a moment, then followed. Silver loosed the rope from the chimney and they crossed the roof to McCutcheon’s side. Quickly, Silver looped one end of the rope over the chimney and looped the other end under his arms.
“Give me time to get over the edge,” said Silver softly, “and then cover that chimney with the blanket. When I tug the rope, remove the blanket. That’ll mean McCutcheon has opened the window or the door, or has left the room. Stand by, and when you feel the rope go taut, haul me up. We may have to get out of here in one hell of a hurry, and if the horses are discovered, we’re in big trouble.”
Nathan waited until Silver was over the edge before he covered the chimney with the blanket. He grinned in the darkness when he heard violent cursing below. Within seconds there was a tug on the rope, and Nathan removed the blanket from the chimney.
Silver was far enough to the side of the window that he couldn’t be seen, and as he had expected, the first thing McCutcheon did was open the window. Coughing and choking, he flung open the door and stomped off down the corridor, bawling for attention. Leaving the rope hang loose where he could reach it, Silver stepped into the room, taking refuge behind the door. Already, with the door and window open, the smoke had begun to clear. Silver tensed as he heard footsteps and voices.
“It’s cleared up some,” said McCutcheon, “but by God, the room was full of it.”
“I believe you,” another voice replied. “Probably just a strong gust of wind forced it back down into the room. If it happens again, I’ll have someone get on the roof and have a look at the chimney.”
McCutcheon closed the door and then froze, for the sound seemed inordinately loud as Silver cocked his Colt.
“Turn around,” said Silver, “and do it slow. Don’t make any funny moves with your hands.”
“You!” McCutcheon snarled. “What do you want?”
“I think you know,” said Silver. “You’re going to open the safe, pronto.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll bash your skull and open it myself,” Silver said. “Your choice.”
“You’ll pay for this,” McCutcheon said. “I have powerful friends in Washington.”
“Not any more,” said Silver. “We know who sent you the letter, and a senate investigating committee is about to give him a choice. He can resign,
or he’ll be censured and booted out. Now open that safe.”
McCutcheon knelt before the safe, fumbling with the dial. Slowly the heavy door was swung back.
“Now get up and stand back,” Silver ordered.
But McCutcheon rolled to one side, a pistol roared, and a slug whipped through the sleeve of Silver’s coat. He fired once and McCutcheon dropped the Colt. Quickly, Silver knelt before the safe. Seconds counted, for he could hear the thump of boots on the stairs and in the hall. Having no time to sort them, he seized all the papers in the safe, stuffing them into his coat pocket. Holstering his Colt, he ran to the door and shot the deadbolt. By the time he reached the window, there was shouting in the corridor and pounding on the door. Quickly, Silver looped the rope under his arms and swung free of the windowsill. When he reached the roofs edge, Nathan seized his hand.
“There’s hell to pay,” Silver said. “McCutcheon had a Colt in the safe, and I had to shoot him. Once they break in there and find the window open, they’ll be after us like hell wouldn’t have it.”
“Did you get the papers?”
“If they were in the safe, I did,” said Silver. “No time to go through them, so I took them all.”
Reaching the backside of the building, Nathan looped the rope over the chimney and swung over the edge of the roof. He dropped into his saddle just as a man rounded the comer of the building. Nathan snapped a shot at him and he went belly down, either hit or taking cover. But he was very much alive, for he began shouting, alerting the others.
“Let’s ride,” said Silver.
Nathan led out. Reaching the Union Pacific tracks, where much of the snow had begun to melt, he rode eastward, Silver right behind him. They followed the tracks for several miles until they reached a creek. There they left the tracks, following the creek. Ahead of them, Empty yipped once.
“We’d better rest the horses and head for Denver,” said Nathan. “For all the people in Cheyenne know, McCutcheon has been robbed and murdered. With the telegraph, the sheriff in Cheyenne could have dead-or-alive warrants out on us everywhere by morning.”
“Not if I can reach the telegraph first,” Silver replied. “I can justify what we’ve done by proving McCutcheon was involved in a land grab. He has a friend in the Senate, and I’m expecting that gentleman to sing like a mockingbird when he learns McCutcheon’s dead. We have him to thank for telling McCutcheon we were on the way.”
“So that’s why we used our own names,” said Nathan. “By God, it was a trap. You knew it was a trap, and we were the bait!”
“Well, yes,” Silver admitted. “I had to get in a position to get my hands on these papers, and there was no other way. But I’ll be honest with you. The ambush near the hotel took me by surprise. I believed McCutcheon would wait until we were out of town, and he did give us directions to his ranch. If you had known all the facts—all the risks involved—would you have come with me?”
“I reckon,” said Nathan. “There’s no accounting for the fool things a man will do in the name of friendship.”
They rode on, resting the horses at hourly intervals, and when the first rays of the rising sun fanned out across the eastern horizon, they looked down from a rise upon the growing city of Denver.
“We never did get supper last night,” said Nathan. “I’m hungry enough to chomp down on a grizzly, hide, hair, and claws.”
“So am I,” Silver replied, “but first I’m going to get that message off to Washington and kill any warrants the law in Cheyenne may be preparing. There are ranchers all over the frontier who won’t see anything wrong with McCutcheon’s land-grab, and we have to discredit this story before it’s allowed to take hold.”
“Let’s go to the Kansas-Pacific railroad terminal,” said Nathan. “They’ll remember me there, and you should get immediate use of the telegraph.”
Nathan was remembered and he spent an enjoyable hour with the dispatcher, as Silver went through McCutcheon’s papers and telegraphed Washington. They were out of the railroad terminal, looking for a place to eat, before Silver spoke.
“I have all the necessary papers to expose McCutcheon’s land-grab, and all the land he has illegally claimed will revert back to government ownership. Details are being wired to the law in Cheyenne, as well as to the newspaper there. We’re cleared.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Nathan, “but what about Chad Buckalew and his grab?”
“He’s being investigated,” Silver replied, “and if his scheme is like McCutcheon’s in any way, then every acre he’s falsely claiming will be disallowed. The newspaper there in Cheyenne will give him hell.”
“What do you aim to do now?” Nathan asked.
“I’m going back to Washington,” said Silver. “This Yankee senator McCutcheon’s been buying off is about to be investigated by the Senate. I don’t want to miss that.”
“What do you reckon will happen to him?”
“Oh, he’ll be disgraced and kicked out,” Silver said. “He’ll be forced to find honest work, if he’s capable of it. Where are you going?”
“I reckon I’ll ride to south Texas and visit my old friend, King Fisher. Last time I was there, he had stolen away Molly, one of the Horrell girls, and the Horrells were about to give him hell.”
“If you get in neck deep, don’t send for me,” Silver said. “Even the United States government can’t settle that Horrell-Higgins feud.”
CHAPTER 11
St. Louis, Missouri January 5, 1880
A little more than three months past his fourteenth birthday, John Wesley Tremayne had made good his resolution and escaped the hated orphanage. Life there hadn’t been all that bad, although he had been compelled to attend church every Sunday. He was quick with his hands and had been constantly punished for fighting. He had become an enigma, astounding and confounding his teachers, absorbing their most difficult assignments with ease. He spoke fluent Spanish, and at the end of his second year, stood at the head of all his classes. But there had been a method to his madness, and by the time he was ready to leave, it was the last thing they expected of him. On a Monday night, just after bed check, he had slipped away into the darkness with only the clothes on his back. Reaching the railroad yards, he had climbed aboard a boxcar, part of a string that made up a westbound freight.
Near midnight, the train chuffed into the Kansas City yards, pausing just long enough to take on fuel and water. As it departed, picking up speed, a shadowy figure climbed into the boxcar. Soon the new arrival was snoring, but John Wesley Tremayne dared not sleep. In the bitter cold, huddling into his heavy coat, he listened to the clicking of wheels on the coupling joints and awaited the dawn.
“Well, now,” said the stranger, when it was light enough to see, “I didn’t know I had comp’ny. Ye should of spoke up. Ye got a name?”
“Wes Tremayne.”
The man was dressed in flannel shirt, dirty trousers, and runover boots. He stood up and stretched, and he stood only about six or seven inches above five feet. After several attempts at what obviously was false jovialty, he became surly.
“You ain’t much of a talker, are you, kid?”
Wes said nothing but he fixed his cold blue eyes on those of the stranger, and the man saw no fear in them. Suddenly he seized the haft of a knife, removing it from his left boot. With a wolf grin, he faced Wes.
“I’ve always thought them that’s got more ought to share with them that ain’t got near enough. Shuck out of that coat, kid.”
“You can have it,” said Wes, “only if you’re man enough to take it.” He got to his feet, waiting.
“Leander O’Malley don’t take that kind of talk from nobody.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, O’Malley,” Wes said. “Back off while you can.”
“You? Hurt me?”
O‘Malley lunged with the knife, but Wes wasn’t there. Before O’Malley could recover from the thrust, Wes seized his arm and slammed him headlong into the side of the boxcar. He lay there catching his
wind while Wes waited for him to get to his feet. But when he got to his hands and knees, he charged from that position. Wes caught his wrist, halting the course of the knife, and they fought for the weapon. While Wes had tremendous strength in hands, arms, and shoulders, his antagonist had a weight advantage, and they fell to the floor. Slowly, Wes turned the deadly blade away, and against the wall of the car he got enough leverage to roll O‘Malley off. Throwing all his weight on the hand that gripped the knife, he drove it down, into O’Malley’s chest. As suddenly as it had begun, the fight was over. Wes lay there gasping for breath, his mind flooded with conflicting emotions. His elation over having beaten a bigger, stronger adversary was tempered with the sobering realization that he had killed a man. Weaponless, he had been forced to defend himself with his bare hands. He withdrew the knife, cleaning its blade on the leg of the dead man’s dirty trousers. He slipped the blade of the knife under his belt, got to his feet, and slid open the boxcar’s door. He dragged the lifeless O’Malley to the aperture, rolled him out, and closed the boxcar door.
Pueblo, Colorado January 8, 1880
Silver had taken a Kansas-Pacific train east, while Nathan had ridden a hundred and fifty miles south, to Pueblo. There he could take an AT & SF train as far as Dodge City, on his way to south Texas. Nathan spent the night in Dodge and had supper with Foster Hagerman of the AT & SF.
“I hated to lose Harley Stafford,” Hagerman said, “but I’m glad for him. Did you know your old friend Wyatt Earp has moved on?”
“No,” said Nathan. “Somebody else’s loss is your gain, I reckon.”
“He left last year, ridin’ south. Got in some trouble in Mobeetie, according to one of the stage drivers. Mobeetie’s got a sheriff now.”17
Mobeetie, Texas January 12, 1880
Nathan was amazed to find Mobeetie had doubled in size, though most of the growth, he noted wryly, consisted of three more saloons. He rode on to Fort Elliot, where the post commander, Captain Selman, welcomed him.
Autumn of the Gun Page 16