Autumn of the Gun

by Compton, Ralph

  Nathan had one more telegram to send. Addressing it to twenty-one, Office of the Attorney General, Washington, he wrote:Will meet you in Dodge December first.

  He paid for the telegram, and with Empty following, rode north toward Pueblo.

  CHAPTER 27

  Wes Tremayne didn’t talk to Jim Gillett for almost a week. The second conversation came about after a raid by the Sandlin gang, when a Mexican wrangler was killed. Gillett nodded to Wes in the hall after supper, and they went on to Gillett’s room.

  “I reckon you’ve heard about the outlaw raid on the Collier ranch yesterday,” Gillett said.

  “Yeah,” said Wes, “I heard. I reckon the killing of another Mexican won’t help the situation around here.”

  “It won’t change anything, one way or the other,” Gillett said. “I figured this would be as good a time as any to tell you about the Sandlin gang. Cord Sandlin built himself an empire across the border, just beyond Ciudad Juarez, and El Paso’s come to expect a certain amount of hell raising from him. I understand he’s bought off the Mexican authorities and has an outlaw band of more than thirty men.”

  “There’s law on this side of the border,” said Wes. “Why hasn’t nobody stood up to Sandlin and his bunch?”

  “Somebody has,” Gillett said. “Five years ago—before I came here—they murdered Sheriff McCormick.”

  “I reckon nobody’s challenged them since then,” said Wes.

  “No,” Gillett said, “and with good reason. Not a man in this town is willing to join a sheriff’s posse to ride after the Sandlin gang. Sandlin got the word out that any man going after the gang would be marked for death, including the county sheriff or city marshal.”

  “Maybe he’s bluffing,” said Wes.

  “Sheriff McCormick gambled on that,” Gillett said, “and all it got him was a six-foot hole in the bone orchard.”

  “Sandlin has his way,” said Wes, “because everybody’s afraid of him, including the Rangers.”

  “Hell, kid,” Gillett said, “that Ranger star don’t make a man bulletproof. In case you ain’t been told, you’re not allowed to cross the border after outlaws. Some kind of border deal between the United States and Mexico. If that ain’t reason enough to stay the hell out of the land of chili peppers, Sandlin’s come up with a stronger one. He’s put a bounty of a hundred dollars on any lawman crossing the river. My God, many a Mex would backshoot his own brother for that kind of money.”

  “You’re not very inspiring, Gillett.”

  “I don’t aim to be,” said Gillett. “Don’t ever let noble thoughts get the best of your common sense. Get yourself gunned down in a fight you can’t win, and within six months, nobody on either side of the border will remember or care who you were.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Wes said. “Anything else?”

  “Only what I suggested last time,” said Gillett. “Spend some time in the Globe and get to know Dallas Stoudenmire.”

  “So I inherit him when you leave,” Wes said.

  “Not just him,” said Gillett. “The whole damn town. My resignation is effective the day after Christmas.”

  But trouble didn’t wait for Gillett’s departure.

  El Paso, Texas December 16, 1881

  In the small hours of the morning, Wes was awakened by the distant crash of gunfire. In his sock feet, he crossed the hall and tapped on Gillett’s door. Quickly Gillett opened the door and Wes slipped inside. Except for his boots, Gillett was dressed.

  “I reckon you heard the shooting,” Wes said.

  “I heard it,” said Gillett, “but you’ll have to get used to that. It’s the city marshal’s job. Rangers don’t enforce town law unless we’re called in for that purpose, and that’s not our reason for being here. There are exceptions, of course. If somebody’s shot and killed Stoudenmire, then we’ll have to restore and maintain the peace until a new town marshal is appointed. It’s after three o’clock, and our presence in town would only reveal us without serving any good purpose. We’ll skip Granny’s breakfast and eat at the Globe. Whatever took place this morning will be the topic of conversation.”

  When Wes and Gillett reached the Globe, the place was crowded, and they soon discovered the reason. Seated at a table with a dozen other men, Stoudenmire was recounting what had happened during the night.

  “It happened outside my boardin’ house, about three o’clock this morning,” Stoudenmire was saying. “Some varmint tried to ambush me. I’d of got him, but he was so close his muzzle flashes blinded me. I cut down on him, but he got away in the dark.”38

  “Hell,” somebody said quietly, “Stoudenmire was likely owl-eyed drunk, an’ done all the shootin’ himself, throwin’ lead at a man that wasn’t there.”

  “That’s pretty much how it is,” said Gillett when he and Wes had left the restaurant. “Nobody’s quite sure whether Stoudenmire fought his way out of an attempted ambush, or whether he was just drunk and shootin’ at shadows.”

  Pueblo, Colorado November 23, 1881

  Nathan went to the railroad depot and arranged for a boxcar for his horse as far as Dodge on the next westbound, which would depart at six o’clock the next morning.

  “Make yourself at home in the bunkhouse,” said the dispatcher, who well remembered Nathan from his days with the railroad.

  “I will,” Nathan said, “and I’m obliged.”

  Reaching the bunkhouse, the first man Nathan encountered was Harley Stafford.

  “Well, by God,” said Nathan, “I thought you was through ridin’ anything that didn’t have four legs and a tail.”

  “I thought so, too,” Harley replied, “but I’m as fiddle-footed as you are. I missed the locomotive whistles, riding the rails, shooting and being shot at.”

  “Vivian didn’t raise hell when you left?”

  “No,” said Harley. “She said all men are no damned good, that you and me are birds of a feather.”

  “Tarnation,” Nathan said, “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.”

  “She never understood why you rode away,” said Harley, “but I did. A woman wants ties, but to a man they become chains. When I left New Orleans, I felt like I’d just broke jail.”

  “I’ve never heard it said any better than that,” Nathan replied. “I’ll be taking the eastbound with you as far as Dodge.”

  “If you’re after your old job,” said Harley, “you’ll have to fight me for it.”

  “Relax,” Nathan said. “I’m meeting a friend there.”

  “I won’t tell Vivian,” said Harley, closing his left eye in a slow wink.

  “Send her a telegram,” Nathan said. “I don’t care, and I’m sure she won’t.”

  “Aw, hell,” said Harley. “I was hopin’ to see her a little jealous. Now we’ll never find out if she cares a damn for anything or anybody but them fast horses.”

  “You’ll have to conduct your experiments without me,” Nathan said. “The last thing I want is a jealous female tied to my shirttail.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” said Harley. “We got the rest of today and tonight. Let’s have us a big supper and then visit all the saloons.”

  “My dog don’t like saloons,” Nathan said.

  “Leave him at the depot with the dispatcher,” said Harley.

  “He don’t like trains,” Nathan said, “and I doubt he’s all that fond of the dispatcher.”

  Harley laughed. “How’s he goin’ to get to Dodge? Lope alongside the train?”

  “Except for saloons,” said Nathan, “he’ll go where I go. We’ll get supper and then go from there.”

  They had supper at a cafe where Nathan had eaten before, where the cook fed Empty in the kitchen.

  “After supper,” said Nathan, “let’s find a billiard parlor. I’m a mite tired of saloons. I always end up shootin’ my way out.”

  “Suits me,” Harley said, “but most billiard parlors are saloons with a billiard table or two in the back.”

  Being a Wed
nesday night, the town was at low ebb. Nathan and Harley, after a few games of billiards, gave it up and returned to the railroad bunkhouse. The crew for the morning’s eastbound was there, none of them men Nathan knew. Nathan and Harley chose adjoining bunks and Empty curled up on the floor between them.

  “Empty’s already spooked,” Nathan said. “He knows, when we go to a depot, we’ll be boardin’ a train, and he hates that.”

  Harley laughed. “You don’t need a woman to cater to,’cause you got that hound.”

  “He’s never got me in near as much trouble as women have,” said Nathan.

  Nathan and Harley arose at four o’clock the following morning, had breakfast, and were ready when the eastbound left at six. The train rattled across the plains, bound for Dodge City, five hours away.

  “How are things with the railroad?” Nathan asked.

  “Better than usual,” said Harley. “We haven’t had a train robbery since I came back.”

  “Is Foster Hagerman still in the saddle at Dodge?”

  “So far as the railroad’s concerned,” Harley said, “but he quit the town council. That affair with Wyatt Earp as policeman did it.”

  “Earp, two of his brothers, and Doc Holliday started a shootout at Tombstone, Arizona, back in October,” said Nathan. “They killed three men.”

  “I read about that,” Harley said. “It made the papers in Kansas City. Sounds like the Earps and Holliday finally done somethin’ right.”

  “Not unless you favor gunning down unarmed men,” said Nathan. “I was there and I saw it happen.”

  “The Earps and Holliday must be leadin’ charmed lives,” Harley said. “Four days after the shooting, there was a coroner’s inquest and nobody was charged.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Nathan. “I left town before they could rope me into going to court and testifying.”

  Dodge City, Kansas November 24, 1881

  The first person they saw after stepping off the train was Foster Hagerman.

  “It’s good to see you again,” he said, taking Nathan’s hand. “I have a message for you from Byron Silver. He wants you to telegraph him in care of the dispatcher in Kansas City.”

  “I’ve come all the way here to meet him,” Nathan said. “I hope that hasn’t changed.”

  “Let’s telegraph him and find out,” said Hagerman. Hagerman sat down at the instrument, requested and received permission, and sent a short message:Stone in Dodge awaiting your reply.

  “Why don’t you go on to the Dodge House,” Hagerman said. “I’ll meet you tonight at six, and we’ll eat at Delmonico’s. They’ll likely have to track Silver down, and you may not get an answer today.”

  “Come on,” said Harley, “and hang around Dodge for a while. I’m off for the rest of the week, and I don’t aim to sleep through it all.”

  Nathan checked into the Dodge House, and a few minutes before six, he and Harley left for Delmonico’s. Empty bounded on ahead, for the cooks remembered him from the days Nathan had worked for the railroad.

  “Well,” said Hagerman, when he arrived, “for the first time in my life I was wrong. You got an answer to your telegram. Silver’s in Kansas City and you’re to meet him there as soon as you can. He’ll leave word with the dispatcher as to where you can find him.”

  “If my memory serves me right,” Nathan said, “there won’t be another eastbound until eleven o’clock tomorrow.”

  “Right,” said Hagerman, “so let’s settle down, have us a steak, with plenty of onions, potatoes, coffee, and apple pie.”

  When they were down to final cups of coffee, Nathan spoke.

  “There’ll come a time when I may have to ask one of you to do a favor for me, and I’d like your promise that, should it become necessary, you’ll do it.”

  “You’ve got my promise,” said Hagerman.

  “And mine,” Harley added.

  “My friends are scattered all over,” said Nathan, “and when I’ve ridden that last trail, I want them to know I’ve cashed in, gone west.”

  “Hell,” Hagerman said, “you’re still a young man.”

  “A slug has no respect for youth,” said Nathan. “I only want you to send telegrams, and there’s just two words you’ll have to remember. Omega Three.”

  “Omega’s the last word in the Greek alphabet,” said Hagerman, “but why the three?”

  “That’s a location,” Nathan said. “If it happens around here, I’ll want you to send the message to Silver in Washington, to Barnabas McQueen in New Orleans, and to a girl—Molly Horrell—in El Paso. Before the need arises, all of them will be given the same message I’m giving you. Then if I take the fall far away from here, you’ll have someone who can tell you what became of me. If you receive a message that reads Omega One, you’ll know to contact McQueen in New Orleans. If it reads Omega Two, you’ll know to contact Molly Horrell in El Paso. Either of you will be Omega Three, while Silver is Omega Four.”

  “My God, Nathan,” said Harley, “it sounds like you know something we don’t.”

  “No,” Nathan replied, “I’m just accepting something you don’t want to accept. I aim to hold Silver to this same promise because I never know when I’ll cash in, running some errand for him. I don’t want my bones bleaching on some lonesome trail, without my few friends knowing where I am and what became of me.”

  “He has another of those errands waiting for you,” said Hagerman. “That’s why you’ll be meeting him in Kansas City. You’re the only man I know who works for nothing, for the government.”

  “I’m not working for the government,” Nathan said. “I’m doing a favor for a friend.”

  The evening ended on a somber note, and Nathan and Harley returned to their rooms at the Dodge House.

  “I’ll join you for breakfast,” said Harley.

  “Do that,” Nathan replied. “I’m counting on it.”

  “One thing more,” said Harley. “How do you aim to get your message to McQueen? I was just bully-raggin’ you about Vivian forgetting you. She hasn’t, and if you tell her and the McQueens what you just told Hagerman and me, Vivian will come looking for you.”

  “I’ve considered that,” Nathan replied. “I aim to send Barnabas a letter, swearing him to silence where Vivian is concerned. She has no business with me, and if I live to be a hundred, I’ll still feel better about her being with the McQueens.”

  “You’re a thoughtful, generous man, Nathan,” said Harley, “and it’s a damn shame that you’re passing through this world with so few men knowing you. I’m glad our trails crossed, if only for a little while. Goodnight.”

  Nathan’s eyes clouded and a lump rose in his throat. Empty following, he went on down the hall to his room.

  When Nathan and Harley reached Delmonico’s for breakfast, Foster Hagerman was already there, drinking coffee.

  “It’s not often I get to eat in such good company,” said Hagerman, “so I’m taking full advantage of it.”

  “Nathan,” Harley said when they were seated, “in your travels, have you come across a young hombre name of Wesley Tremayne? The kid can’t be a day over sixteen, if he’s that, and he’s chain lightning with a Colt.”

  “I haven’t seen him,” said Nathan. “It’s an unusual name that I’ve heard only once, and that was long ago. What does he mean to you?”

  “He was kind of special to us both,” Hagerman said. “He rode a freight in here, green as grass, with nothing but the clothes on his back. Vic Irwin hired him as swamper at the Alhambra Saloon. Harley met him there and talked me into hiring him as a baggage clerk. Harley also taught him Morse code and how to use a gun, and I promoted him to railroad security. He killed some hombres that needed killing, including a pair that held up a train, and people started hounding him, testing his fast gun. Newspaper men started meeting the trains, hoping to see him shoot somebody. The kid had a horse and had learned to ride, and one night he just rode away, and we haven’t seen him since.”

  “I kind of know how
he felt,” said Nathan. “I’ve had to shoot men I’ve never laid eyes on before, just to keep them from shooting me. There are men all over the frontier who’d give five years of their lives for a shot at me. In the back, if necessary.”

  “I hope you’ll meet him one day,” Harley said. “I saw him kill a man—his first—on the street, here in Dodge, and he reminded me of you. He wasn’t the last bit afraid, and his eyes, my God! They looked for the world like blue ice.”

  “If we ever meet,” said Nathan uneasily, “I hope it’s on friendly terms. I have more than enough hombres gunning for me.”

  Nathan and Empty were at the depot when the eleven o’clock eastbound rolled in, and Nathan watched as the locomotive backed onto the side track, coupling on the boxcar with Nathan’s horse.

  “Come on, Empty,” Nathan said. “I know this is against your religion, but if you’re goin’ with me, there’s no other way.”

  Nathan climbed the steps into the passenger car, and with a look of resignation in his eyes Empty followed.

  Kansas City, Missouri November 25, 1881

  Nathan called on the dispatcher and the message he was given was brief. It said:Kansas City Hotel nine.

  Nathan led his horse out of the boxcar and, with Empty following, rode to the hotel. Having no idea how long he would be with Silver, he stabled the horse at a livery across the street.

  “Stay with the horse, Empty,” he commanded.

  Reaching the door to Room 9, he knocked twice, waited a moment, then knocked a third time.

  “Identify yourself,” said a voice from within.

  “Nathan Stone, you old paisano.”

  The door was opened and Nathan stepped inside. Silver closed and bolted the door.

  “You must have something almighty important cooking,” Nathan said. “I told you I’d be in Dodge December first.”