“Yes,” Smoke said, “they do make quite a pair, don’t they?”
“I guess they’ll do to ride the river with,” Rattlesnake said, and then he held up his glass to the two young men and added, “To the young beavers, may they give us old beavers a little more time ’fore they take over the river.”
Everyone laughed and joined in the toast, yelling at the waiter to bring more whiskey because they were just getting started.
12
Hammer Hammerick picked up Bull Bannion from the room next to his in the boardinghouse Luke McCain had provided, and told him to get the gang together, they were going for a ride.
Soon, Hammer and Bull, followed by almost thirty men, rode out of Noyes and headed for Winnipeg.
“What’re we gonna do when we get there, Hammer?” Bull asked as his horse trotted next to Hammer’s.
“We’re gonna look the situation over an’ see what the lay of the land is,” Hammer answered around a long, black cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth. “When the time comes to hit the payroll trains, I want to be sure we know every road in and out of Winnipeg, as well as finding some likely spots to hole up if the posses they send after us get too close.”
“Posses?” Bull asked, his eyebrows raised. “You think they’re gonna have posses ready for us?” He’d never thought of that, because the trains they’d robbed together before had never had enough money on them to be well guarded. In fact, most of the time they’d had to be content to just take watches and pocket money from the passengers.
Hammer sighed. Bull was a good man with a gun and he was loyal to a fault, but he was dumber than a skunk. “No, probably not the first time, Bull. On that one, we’ll probably get a free ride, since they won’t be expecting anyone to try and rob them. But I don’t expect the railroad to take the loss of thousands of dollars lying down. After we take the first payroll, I expect they’ll have more guards on the second one, so we’re gonna have to take different routes to and from the railroad each time we hit it, an’ I want to make sure we know the country as well as we can before we start taking the railroad’s money.”
“Oh,” Bull said, “that’s a good idea.”
Hammer smiled grimly. “That’s why I’m ramrod of this outfit, Bull, ’cause of good ideas like that.”
* * *
They spent the next few days traveling back and forth along the tracks of the railroad into and out of Winnipeg, making notes on a hand-drawn map Hammer had made showing the best trails along the way and where they could stop and set up ambushes against any posses or guards that happened to get onto their tails.
They spent the nights camped out in the open, sleeping under small tents and eating campfire food, with the men complaining bitterly about the bugs and the cold and just about everything else, until finally Hammer had had enough.
Once he had what he wanted, Hammer told the men to divide up and head into Winnipeg. “Go into town in groups of two and three,” he said. “Don’t act like we know each other while we’re in town. I don’t want the sheriff or marshal or whatever they have up here in the way of law to know we’re all together. Find rooms at different hotels and let me know where you’re staying, so I won’t have any trouble getting in touch with you when the time comes to hit the train,” he told his men.
“What are you gonna be doing?” Bull asked.
“I’m going to be mixing it up with the railroad men in the saloons around town and trying to find out the schedule of payroll payments, so I’ll know when to plan to rob the trains coming into town.” Hammer smiled. “I wouldn’t want to hit an empty train, now would I?”
As the men dispersed, riding off at intervals of five or ten minutes, Hammer lit up another cigar and sat in the saddle thinking of how he was going to spend all the money he planned to take from the men who owned the railroad. Slapping at his neck where a mosquito as big as a bumblebee had dug in, he decided the first thing he was going to do was to move south away from the insects and the cold of the north.
Finally, when only he and Bull were left, he spurred his mount toward Winnipeg, just visible in the distance.
* * *
Hammer and Bull reined in their horses in front of a saloon named the Dog Hole just in time to see a large, heavyset man run out of the batwings holding his stomach, his face a pale shade of green. The man stopped on the boardwalk and bent over with his hands on his knees, vomiting into the dirt of the street.
Bull glanced at Hammer as he stepped down off his horse. “Mayhaps we’d better not order any food in here, Hammer,” he said, staring at the mess the big man was making on the boardwalk.
Hammer shook his head as he dismounted. He hated men who couldn’t hold their liquor. He and Bull went into the saloon, and found most everyone in there laughing and howling.
Hammer made his way to the bar and as he leaned on it, he asked the barman what they’d missed that was so funny.
When the bartender told him the story of the big mountain man and his young friend who’d made the gunny eat almost two dozen eggs, Hammer turned to stare at Smoke Jensen, his lips pursed.
That might be the kind of man I’d like to have in my gang, he thought, wondering what would be the best way to approach the subject.
As he was preparing to make his way to the table, he saw a large, portly man in a three-piece suit walk into the saloon and join the mountain man at his table.
“Who’s that sitting with him?” he asked the bartender when the man brought him and Bull their drinks.
“Oh, that’s William Cornelius Van Horne,” the bartender said. “He’s in charge of building the railroad from here to the West Coast.” As he continued to wipe down the bar, the bartender shook his head. “A damn fool idea if you ask me,” he said.
Hammer nodded. “Then those men must work for him,” he said, glad he’d held off on making his offer to the big man wearing buckskins.
“That’d be my guess,” the barman said as he moved off to serve another customer.
As he sipped his whiskey, Hammer thought of another ploy he might use to get the information he needed. “Stay here, Bull. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Hammer finished his drink and made his way over to the table with Smoke and his friends.
When they looked up, Hammer spoke to Van Horne. “I hear you’re in charge of building the railroad, Mr. Van Horne,” he said.
Van Horne leaned back, his thumbs stuck in the armholes of his vest. “That’s right, mister. Are you looking for work?” he asked.
Smoke’s eyes examined Hammer, noting the way his gun was tied down low on his thigh, and also noting his hands had no calluses on them. “I don’t think he’s interested in working on the railroad, Bill,” Smoke said. “He doesn’t look like a laborer to me.”
Hammer cut his eyes to Smoke and nodded. “You’re right about that, mister,” he said. “I’m more interested in . . . ah . . . security work if there is any.”
“Security work?” Van Horne asked.
Hammer shrugged. “You know, like keeping men in line if they get too rowdy, or perhaps guard work if you have anything to guard,” Hammer said.
Van Horne pursed his lips, taking in the confident manner Hammer had about him. He slowly nodded. “There might be some way I could use you. Let me talk to my foreman about it and ask me again in a day or two.”
Hammer nodded and touched the brim of his hat. “Thank you kindly, Mr. Van Horne,” he said, and he walked slowly back to the bar to order another drink.
Bear Tooth leaned to the side and spat onto the floor. “That galoot smells like trouble to me, Bill,” he said. “I ain’t one to tell nobody their business, but I’d steer clear of that sort if’n I was you.”
Van Horne laughed. “Bear Tooth, if I failed to hire men simply because they looked a little rough around the edges, I wouldn’t have more than a dozen men working for me instead of almost twenty thousand.”
“In this case,” Smoke said, “I agree with Bear Tooth, Bill. That man’s
eyes were dead. I have a feeling you’d be sorry if you hired him.”
Van Horne stared at Smoke for a moment, his face thoughtful.
“One thing I’ve learned over the years, Bill,” Louis said. “Smoke Jensen is the best judge of character I’ve ever met. If he tells you a man is bad, you can take that to the bank.”
“You know I respect your opinion, Smoke, so if he does come back, I’ll turn him down.”
He got to his feet and said, “Now, come on over to the railroad yard. There are some people I’d like you all to meet before we start work on the surveying.”
“Uh, Mr. Van Horne,” Pearlie said.
“Yes, Pearlie?”
“We ain’t had no lunch yet”—he grinned—“’cepting Cal an’ his boiled eggs, an’ it’s way past noon, an’ I was wondering if you had any grub over at the railroad yard.”
Van Horne laughed, his ample stomach shaking. “Sure, Pearlie. As soon as we get there, I’ll have Cookie make you all up something to take the edge off your appetite until we can get dinner tonight.”
Cal laughed. “The only thing that’d take the edge off Pearlie’s appetite, Bill, is to feed him an entire cow.”
* * *
When the group arrived at the railroad yard, about a mile and a half out of town, they were all amazed to see over a thousand tents set up and thousands of men milling around a large compound that contained several odd-looking machines that Van Horne told them were used to travel down the tracks as they were laid and bring supplies to the men working the lines.
“Jiminy,” Cal said, staring around wide-eyed. “How many men you got workin’ for you, Bill?”
“Over twenty thousand so far,” Van Horne replied.
“How come most of ’em seem to be staying out here in tents ’stead of in town?” Rattlesnake Bob asked.
Van Horne grinned. “Well, most of the men are of Chinese descent,” he said, “and as you saw by the sign in the saloon, the town folk don’t exactly welcome Chinese.” He gave a slight shrug as he looked around the expanse of tents. “As for the others, most are men like you, Rattlesnake. They’re used to living out in the open and feel cooped up when they’re in a hotel room.”
Louis, ever the pragmatist, glanced over at Van Horne. “You say you’ve got over twenty thousand men, huh, Bill?”
“That’s right.”
“And I suppose most of them are being paid about a dollar a day or so?”
“Well, the Chinese don’t make that much, but I suppose that’s about the average.”
“So, when payday comes around, you’re paying out almost half a million dollars a month, I guess.”
Van Horne nodded. “Probably about that much, but I really don’t know for certain, Louis. My job is to get the track laid. Paying them for doing it is someone else’s headache.”
Smoke knew Louis was trying to make a point. “What are you getting at, Louis?”
Louis shrugged. “I don’t know really. It’s just seeing that hard-eyed fellow at the saloon asking about security made me think that half a million dollars would make an awfully tempting pie for someone to try and cut himself a piece of.”
Van Horne laughed. “Oh, well, you don’t have to worry about that, Louis. The payroll train is heavily guarded, and the money is kept in a large safe in a boxcar that is bolted to the floor and is much too heavy to carry off.”
“What if some robbers held a gun to the guards?” Cal asked. “Couldn’t they make them open it up?”
“Not a chance,” Van Horne said. “No one on the train has the combination to the safe, so even if they wanted to, they couldn’t get into it.”
“That makes me feel a lot better,” Pearlie said, “ ’cause now I know I’m gonna get paid for all this work we’re gonna be doing.” He sighed. “Now, if we could just get fed, I’d feel even better!”
Van Horne laughed again and slapped Pearlie on the back. “Well, then, come on, men. I’ll introduce you to Cookie and see if he can find you all something to eat.”
“That’s good,” Pearlie said with a grin. “If there’s one man on a crew I like to know personally it’s the cook.”
“That’s a fact!” Cal said. “And I can tell you one thing for sure, he’s gonna get awfully tired of your face hanging around asking him when the next meal’s gonna be ready.”
13
Later that evening, Hammer sent Bull off to have supper with some of the men at a local restaurant while he went back to the Dog Hole to see if perhaps the man named Van Horne was there. He wanted to see if the man had considered his request for security work.
He stood inside the batwings for a minute, looking around the place, but didn’t see either Van Horne or any of the other men who’d been with him at noon.
As he was glancing around, he saw a portly man in a dark suit and bowler hat having a drink at a table by himself. The man had the cold, calculating eyes of a star-packer of some sort, so Hammer decided to approach him and see what he could learn.
He walked over to the table and said, “Howdy.”
The man looked up from his drink and turned his black eyes on Hammer, no expression of welcome in them.
“Do I know you?” he asked coldly.
Hammer shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t think so, but you have the look of a lawman about you,” he said, forcing his lips into an innocent smile. “And since I used to carry a badge myself, I thought if I was right, I’d offer to buy you a drink.”
The man’s expression softened a little, though his eyes remained suspicious. Lawmen weren’t always welcome in frontier towns, and it was wise to be cautious when talking to strangers, especially in saloons. The man leaned back and let his hand drop to his waist, and Hammer could see the butt of a pistol in a shoulder holster under his coat.
“You’re partially right,” the man said. “I carry a badge, but it’s private. I work for the Pinkerton Agency.”
“Close enough,” Hammer said, signaling to the bartender to bring them another round. “My name’s John Brody,” Hammer said, picking a name out of the air. “I used to work for the hanging judge over to Fort Smith, Arkansas, awhile back.”
“Oh, Judge Isaac Parker,” the man said. “I met him once. He’s as hard as a granite boulder.”
“You got that right,” Hammer said, grinning. All he really knew about Judge Parker was what he’d read in the Grand Forks Gazette.
“My name’s Albert Knowles,” the Pinkerton man said.
After the bartender’s limping son brought their drinks, Hammer said, “By the way I thought the Pinkertons only worked in the States.”
“That’s changing,” Knowles said, upending his drink and draining it in one swallow. After he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he continued. “Now that Canada is getting strongly into the railroad-building business, James Hill, who we’ve done a lot of work for in the States, has decided to use us for his security force.” He added, “That’s how the Pinkertons got started in the first place, working as railroad detectives.”
Hammer nodded encouragingly. “More business is always good, I expect.”
“Damn right,” Knowles said, and this time he was the one that signaled the bartender for another round.
“I saw all those men camped out by the rail yard,” Hammer said. “There must be thousands of them.”
Knowles nodded. “Almost twenty thousand,” he said, “though most of ’em are Chinee.”
“Damn, that must mean a huge payroll.”
Knowles leaned forward and said in a low voice, “You have no idea, John.”
“That’s a big responsibility, guarding that much money,” Hammer said in an offhand manner, as if he were just making small talk. “I handled some pretty big jobs as a marshal, but I don’t know as I’d want to take that on.”
“Naw, it’s not so hard,” Knowles said, beginning to slur his words a bit as he took another large drink of whiskey. He whispered, “I got ten men hiding in the boxcar with the safe, all armed with
the latest Henry repeating rifles and Winchesters, and I got another ten riding in the car behind, with horses all saddled and ready just in case they need to take out after some would-be robbers.” He leaned back and grinned. “A few men tried to rob us on the first run last month, but we took care of them.”
Hammer grinned, one lawman to another. “What’d you do, Al?”
“The ones we didn’t kill outright, we strung up to the nearest telegraph pole and watched ’em dance till they was deader than yesterday’s news. Then we brought them into town and set them up in caskets in front of the local undertaker’s office, with a sign on them that said this is what happens to train robbers.”
“I guess a man would have to be crazy to try and hit one of your payroll trains after seeing that,” Hammer said, waving the waiter over for another round.
“Yeah, that’s why we haven’t had no more trouble since that first time,” Knowles said. “And if it was up to me, those bodies’d still be there, though I suspect they’d be a mite ripe by now,” he said, chuckling drunkenly at his joke. “But Mr. Van Horne ordered them taken down and buried over in Boot Hill,” Knowles added. “Shame too, it was some of my best work.”
“So this Mr. Van Horne don’t appreciate you, huh?” Hammer asked, trying to get a rise out of Knowles.
“No, no, it ain’t that,” Knowles said. “It’s just that Mr. Van Horne is a real decent man, though he’s hard as nails if you don’t do your job.”
He finished off his drink and got unsteadily to his feet. “Thanks for the drinks, John. Be seein’ you.”
Hammer nodded as Knowles walked off, veering to one side as he went through the batwings. A slow smile spread across his face. “You’re right about that, Al,” he said in a low voice to himself. “You’ll be seeing me again, and a lot sooner than you think.”
Hammer leaned back in his chair and sipped his drink, trying to figure a way around twenty Pinkerton men so he could get the gold they were guarding.
* * *
While Hammer was pumping the Pinkerton man for information, Van Horne was treating Smoke and his friends to dinner at the restaurant attached to the Rooster’s Roost Hotel.
Quest of the Mountain Man Page 9