Standoff in Santa Fe
Page 8
“They went up to see Conlon,” Luke said. “They’re gonna try to find out when the wake will start.”
“And what are they planning if Conlon says it’s not going to start soon?”
“We’re comin’ up with a plan to get a look at the body,” Luke said. “I checked the back room, it looks easy enough to get into.”
“Yeah, but maybe not so easy to get out—alive.”
“Whataya mean?”
“The sheriff told me that Conlon has a security force,” Clint said. “Headed up by a man named Trench.”
“Trench. I know that name. This is not good.”
“We’ve got to keep Bat and Heck from doing something stupid.”
“Don’t worry.”
“What do you mean?”
“They wouldn’t dare do somethin’ stupid without me.”
* * *
Bat and Heck Thomas did not go back to the bar. Instead, they looked for a way to get to the rear of the building. Heck found a door that was locked, decided to see if there was any entry from outside.
In the alley behind the saloon they found another door, also locked. It was pitch black and Heck produced a lucifer and scratched it to life.
“Can you get this open?” Bat asked.
“Do I look like a burglar?” Heck asked.
“You look like a guy with a big, burly shoulder.”
Heck put that shoulder to the door and tested it.
“This is a solid door,” he said, “much more than most back doors.”
“There must be somethin’ inside they don’t want anybody to see,” Bat reasoned.
“I’d say,” Heck agreed.
“Okay,” Bat said, looking the building over, squinting at the windows, which were blocked from inside. “We can find a way in. We can figure this out.”
“Break a window?”
“I’d like to get in without anyone hearin’ us,” Bat said. “Or even knowing that we’d been in there.”
“Now you tell me,” Heck said, striking another match.
* * *
Clint and Luke made their way through the crowded saloon to the back, looking for a way to get to the storeroom where the body was being held.
“This is locked,” Luke said.
“And unguarded.”
“So there’s either nothing inside,” Luke said, “or the guards are inside.”
“I vote nothing,” Clint said. “Come on, let’s find the storeroom.”
They found a hallway that led to another door—also locked.
“Outside,” Clint said, pointing farther down the hall.
They went to the end of the hall, found another door which led to the alley in the back. There they found Bat Masterson and Heck Thomas about to force a locked door open. Heck was holding a match to try to illuminate the scene.
“Wait!” Clint hissed.
The two men stopped short and looked at him.
“What’s wrong?” Bat asked. “You gonna arrest us? We think the body is in here.”
“Yeah,” Clint said, “and so are a bunch of guards.”
“What?” Heck asked.
“Come back inside with us and we’ll tell you what,” Clint said.
“But—” Bat said.
“Trust us,” Luke said. “We’re keepin’ you from makin’ a big mistake.”
* * *
As Clint and Luke brought Bat Masterson and Heck Thomas back into the saloon, a table in the back suddenly opened up.
“Grab that!” Clint barked. “I’ll get some beers.”
He went to the bar, got four mugs of beer, and managed to wrangle them back to the table his friends had claimed. He set the beers down in the center of the table, and sat. They all grabbed one.
“Now what’s goin’ on?” Bat asked after a healthy drink.
“You know a man named Trench?” Clint asked.
“I know of him,” Bat said.
“Well, he’s working for Conlon,” Clint said.
“As what?”
“Security chief,” Clint said. “Apparently, he’s got some guards on the body.”
“Not outside the room,” Heck said, “so they must be . . . inside.”
“Right.”
“That would not have been fun,” Bat Masterson said, “breaking into a room full of guards.”
“Did you talk to Conlon?” Clint asked.
“Yes,” Bat said. “He’s still putting the wake off, blaming the undertaker.”
“He says he can’t find him,” Heck added.
“Maybe,” Clint suggested, “we should try to find him.”
“Tonight?” Luke asked.
“I don’t think anything’s going to happen tonight,” Clint said, “but early tomorrow morning for sure. Let’s find out what he has to say about things.”
“Anybody know his name?” Luke asked.
“No,” Clint said, “but we’ll find out tomorrow.”
“You got more rounds to do tonight?” Bat asked.
“No,” Clint said, “I get to eat and go back to work in the morning.”
“I guess we’re done here for the day, then,” Bat said. “I’m going back to my hotel room.”
“No poker?” Heck asked.
“Not tonight.”
“You, Luke?” Heck asked.
“Yeah, I got a game,” Luke said, frowning, “if I can just remember where.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
They left their table and began to go their own ways when Bass Reeves walked in.
“Hey, hey,” he said, “the party’s over?”
“I’m turning in,” Bat said.
“I’ve got a poker game,” Luke said.
“I’ve got nothin’ to do,” Heck said.
“I can stay for a beer and fill you in,” Clint said. “Where’s your deputy?”
“Billy is getting somethin’ to eat,” Reeves said. “Then he’s gonna go back and relieve Thad.”
“So you’re done for the night?” Clint asked.
Reeves nodded and said, “Same as you.”
The three friends walked over to the bar as Bat and Luke went out the batwings.
When they all had beers, they turned to lean against the bar with their elbows, facing the room. They saw Elfego Baca walking up to them.
“I see something new has occurred,” he said happily.
“We’re just tryin’ to help out,” Reeves said.
“Bass made me do it,” Clint said.
Baca looked at Heck Thomas, who shrugged and said, “Nobody made me do it.”
Baca waved to the bartender for a beer.
“I am assuming you gentlemen know when this wake is going to take place,” the young Mexican lawman said.
“We know when it’s not taking place,” Clint said.
“Anytime soon,” Reeves said.
“Is that a fact?” Baca asked, accepting his beer from the barman. “I am afraid I cannot stay much longer.”
“As a matter of fact,” Reeves said, “neither can I.”
“Well,” Clint said, “we’re going to get to the bottom of it tomorrow.”
“Very well,” Baca said, “one more day.” He started to walk back to his table, then turned around again. “If you need any help, let me know.”
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Clint said. “Gracias.”
Elfego Baca returned to his table.
“Think the others will be as patient as he’s being?” Reeves asked.
“Maybe not,” Clint said. “John Wesley Hardin is not known for his patience.”
“Neither are Jim Miller or Clay Allison,” Heck Thomas said.
“They’ll have to be,” Clint said, “at least for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll get some answer
s.”
They clinked their glasses and drank.
* * *
Jim Miller saw the badges Clint Adams and Bass Reeves were wearing. He waited until they finished their beers with Heck Thomas and all three left the room, then he walked down to where John Wesley Hardin was standing.
“You see the badges?”
Hardin turned and looked at him. “On Adams and Reeves? Yeah.”
“What do you suppose that’s about?”
“Who knows?” Hardin asked. “Maybe they miss wearin’ tin.”
“I don’t like it.”
“You got any paper out on you now?”
“No.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“I’m always worried,” Miller said. “I thought you and me were the same way.”
“You and me,” John Wesley Hardin said, “isn’t alike, at all. Go talk to Allison.”
“Clay Allison’s crazy.”
“Funny,” Hardin said, “that’s what I always heard about you.”
Miller stared at him with dead eyes, then turned and walked away. As far as Hardin was concerned, Miller and Allison were alike, and he was like neither of them. Let them worry together.
He went back to his beer.
* * *
“Don’t you ever get tired?” the girl asked Craddock.
“No,” he said. He was lying on his back on the bed with his hands behind his head, still naked. She was lying next to him, trying to catch her breath. His beautiful penis was still half hard, even after he’d used it on her half a dozen times. It was beautiful, but at the moment she saw it as another weapon of his, and she didn’t want him using it on her again anytime soon.
She needed some rest.
“Tell me about the wake,” he said.
Oh good, she thought. He finally wants to talk.
“What about it?”
“When’s it supposed to start?”
“Yesterday.”
“What’s the holdup?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
He reached out, slid his hand down her belly until he could tangle his hand in her bush. Then he pulled.
“Ow! What the—”
“When is the wake?”
“It was supposed to start yesterday,” she said. “That’s all I know.”
“Who’s in charge?”
“Conlon, Ben Conlon.”
“Who is he?”
“My boss. He owns this place.”
“What’s his agenda?”
“Agenda?”
“What’s he after?”
“What else?” she asked. “Money.”
“So he’s figured out a way for this wake to make him money?”
“I’ll bet.”
“He’s your direct boss?”
“No, that’s Alicia,” Delilah said. “Alicia Simmons. She runs the girls.”
“She belong to Conlon?”
“Maybe he thinks so, but no.”
He released the hold he had on her pubic hair, but left his hand there. In minutes he was asleep.
TWENTY-NINE
Miller moved up next to Allison. Two men moved away to give him room.
“Did you see Clint Adams and Bass Reeves?” he asked Allison.
“What about them?”
“They’re wearin’ badges.”
“That’s not news,” Allison said. “Reeves is a deputy marshal.”
“They’re wearin’ local badges.”
Allison finally looked at Miller.
“What’s that about?”
“That’s what I’m wonderin’.”
Allison looked around.
“Are they still here?”
“No, they left.”
“Any lawmen in the place?”
“No locals,” Miller said. “Baca is still here.”
“Is he wearin’ a badge?”
“Yeah, from somewhere in New Mexico.”
Allison turned his attention back to his drink.
“Have a beer,” he said. “Nothin’s gonna happen until tomorrow.”
“I don’t like this,” Miller said. “The wake was supposed to be today.”
“If you’re impatient, leave,” Allison said.
“Not a chance,” Miller said. “I wanna make sure the bastard is really dead.”
“Then we have to wait it out,” Allison said.
* * *
Delilah rolled over to get off the bed. As she did, Craddock grabbed her wrist.
“Where are you goin’?” he asked.
“I have to go back to work.”
“No,” Craddock said.
“Look, love,” she said, “if I don’t work, I don’t get paid.”
“I’ll pay you for the night.”
“The whole night?”
“Yeah.”
“You mean you want to—”
“I want to sleep,” he said. “You want to sleep?”
“I’d love to sleep,” she said. “I don’t hardly ever get a good night’s sleep.”
“Okay then,” she said, sliding back onto the bed next to him. She rolled over, facing away from him. “Good night.”
But he was already asleep again.
* * *
Clint and Bat got back to their hotel and split up in the lobby. Their rooms were on different floors.
“Craddock is stayin’ here, right?” Bat asked.
“That’s right.”
“Did you see him leave the saloon?”
“No,” Clint said, “I didn’t.”
“I hope nothin’ happens tonight,” Bat said. “I’m tired.”
Clint was tired, too. He hadn’t slept all that much the day before.
“I’ll meet you down here for breakfast,” he told Bat.
“Okay,” Bat said, “but not too early, okay?”
They settled on a time and went to their rooms.
* * *
Conlon walked down to Alicia’s room and knocked. When she answered, he tried to look past her into her room.
“Are you alone?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked.
“I was just wondering,” he said. “Can I come in?”
“I’m really tired, Ben.”
“Is that your way of telling me there really is someone in there with you?”
“No,” she said, “it’s my way of tellin’ you that I’m tired.”
“Is it Adams?” he demanded. “Is he in there with you? Is that why you won’t let me in?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because I know you had him in there once before,” he told her.
“Well, he’s not in here tonight. Good night, Ben.”
She closed the door in his face. He owned the saloon, he owned the buildings, and he owned her. What he should have done was kick the door in and take her.
What he did was turn and walk back down the hall to his office.
* * *
Alicia waited until she felt sure that Conlon was in his office, then picked up her wrap and walked to the door. Clint Adams may not have been in her room, but Conlon demanding to know if he was gave her an idea.
She cracked the door and peered out. When she didn’t see Conlon lurking about, she stepped out and closed her door gently behind her. She went to the stairs, walked down, and slipped out the back door.
THIRTY
Clint was trying to decide whether to reread a Twain or a Poe when there was a knock on his door. His holster was hanging on the bedpost. He grabbed the gun and carried it to the door with him.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“Alicia.”
He opened the door, holding the gun behind
his back with his left. She was standing in the hall, alone.
“It’s just me,” she said, putting her hands up. “I didn’t bring any gunmen.”
He opened the door all the way and said, “Come in.”
She stepped past him. As she did, he stuck his head out and looked both ways.
“Worried about my reputation?” she asked him as he closed the door.
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not either,” he said.
He walked to the bedpost and holstered the gun, then turned to face her. He was bare-chested and barefooted, wearing only his trousers.
“What brings you here, Alicia?”
“What do you think?”
She tossed her wrap away, reached behind her to undo her dress, and let it drop to the floor. It was a practiced move Clint had seen many women do before—saloon girls, whores, and women who simply wanted to impress.
He was impressed.
* * *
Three men sitting in the saloon were having a similar conversation to what Bat Masterson and Heck Thomas had been talking about.
“I’m getting tired of waitin’ for this wake,” Teddy McCain said. “How about you guys?”
“Yeah,” Dick Dutrow said. “We seen enough famous guns walkin’ around here in the past two days.”
“So whatta we do?” Andy Thomas asked.
McCain looked around. “Looks like most of the lawmen quit for the night.”
“Yeah, but the others are still here,” Dutrow said. “Allison, Hardin, and Jim Miller.”
“They won’t get in our way,” McCain said.
“Way of what?” Thomas asked. “Whatta we gonna do?”
“We,” McCain said, “are gonna get a look at the body.”
“How do we do that?” Dutrow asked.
“I heard some talk that the body is locked in a storeroom in the back,” McCain said. “They’re waitin’ for word from the undertaker before they bring it out.”
“So?”
“So we’re gonna go in and take a look.”
“How?” Dutrow asked.
McCain looked at his two partners and said, “Come on, boys. It’s only a lock.”
* * *
Clint approached Alicia and cradled her two perfect handfuls of breasts in his palms. He squeezed them, popped the nipples with his thumbs while she sighed and dropped her head back. He leaned over to touch each nipple with the tip of his tongue. He licked them until they were distended, then took them and worried them between his teeth. She moaned and put her hands behind his head to hold him there—and then they heard the barrage of shots.