by J. T. Edson
Waco and the Kid had both been among the crowd, but, having satisfied themselves that Dusty was safe, they returned to the waiting girls. Listening to Red warning the young blond that she ‘wouldn’t go walking ’round no more creepy ole graveyards’, Dusty grinned. Clearly Waco had been trying to solve one of the mysteries which puzzled the trio. Then, seeing the possessive manner in which the girls clung to his companions’ arms, he realized what was happening. Lampart was keeping ‘Matt Caxton’ and ‘Comanche Blood’ under observation in a way which would be unlikely to arouse their suspicion.
Having taken some money from his party’s box, Dusty called at the jeweler’s store and purchased the best diamond bracelet in his extensive stock. Then he went back to the saloon. Although Emma came straight over to ask what had happened and if he was hurt, Dusty did not find the opportunity to hand over his present until just before the place closed.
‘For your birthday,’ Dusty whispered, slipping the bracelet into her hand as they watched the other customers leaving.
‘My—?’ Emma gasped.
‘This year’s, or last’s, whichever’s closest,’ Dusty explained.
‘Why thank you, Ed!’ the blonde purred. ‘My, you did dirty your shirt in the fight. You can’t wear it until it’s been washed.’
‘You want for me to change it down here?’
‘Of course not. Come upstairs and I’ll show you where you can do it.’
Going upstairs and to the rear of the building, Emma escorted him into the bedroom section of her quarters.
‘Take it off and I’ll have my maid wash it,’ the blonde offered.
Removing his tie, Dusty peeled off the shirt. Emma took it from him and left the room. She returned empty handed and her eyes roamed over his powerfully developed bare, torso.
‘Oh my!’ she said, reaching behind her and unhooking her dress. ‘Haven’t I made a mistake? You can’t walk out of here without a shirt.’
‘What’ll I do then?’ Dusty inquired.
The dress slid away. All Emma wore under it was a pair of black silk tights.
‘Can’t you think of anything?’ she asked.
‘You know,’ Dusty replied. ‘I just might be able to at that.’
Chapter Twelve – They Won’t Touch That Building
‘Whooee!’ enthused the Kid as he and his companions exercised their horses on the fringe of the wooded country which surrounded the vast hollow that held the town of Hell. ‘Ole Mark’d sure enjoy being here. Who won that bet, boy?’
‘You mind your own blasted business!’ the youngster ordered indignantly. ‘Way your bed was a-creaking and a-groaning last night Red and me didn’t hardly get any sleep.’
‘What Juanita and me heard through the wall, you pair wasn’t doing much of that sleeping anyways,’ countered the Kid. ‘Which I’m right grateful to you for the loan of your room, Ed.’
‘Emma and me figured you might’s well use it, seeing I’d paid for it and wouldn’t be,’ Dusty answered. ‘So she sent her maid along with the key. Did you pair learn anything from the gals?’
‘Only that I’ve got more hair on my chest than she has,’ Waco grinned, then became more serious. ‘They don’t know anything much. Only that some gangs go and come back and others just come the once.’
‘We already had that figured out,’ Dusty said.
‘I was fixing to take a pasear round the back of the undertaker’s afore I went to bed,’ the Kid stated. ‘But those gals wouldn’t go leave us long enough and I didn’t take to the notion of climbing that fence back of the shop with Juanita hanging on my shirt-tail.’
‘It can’t be helped,’ Dusty said philosophically. ‘They didn’t leave me on my lonesome, either.’
‘I talked to a couple of fellers who saw Columbo’s bunch being planted,’ Waco remarked. ‘Can’t say’s I claim to know sic ’em about undertakering, but I don’t reckon there’d’ve been time for ole Happy Youseman to’ve embalmed them afore he put them under.’
‘I wonder if anybody saw them in the coffins?’ Dusty replied.
‘Maybe they’ve planted those hombres and don’t aim to claim the bounty,’ the Kid suggested. ‘Just to still the talk.’ He shook his head. ‘If there’s been any talk, I haven’t heard it. And Columbo ’n’ Pinter both’re worth a damned sight more in reward money than Toby Siddons was.’
‘When I asked, they reckoned Youseman was at the hawg-ranch,’ Dusty pointed out. ‘It could be.’
‘Did Glover try to stick the mayor up, you reckon, Brother Matt?’ Waco inquired, changing the subject.
‘Could be,’ Dusty replied. ‘Couple of the Regulators found their horses, saddled and ready for traveling, around the back of the houses.’
‘Was Basmanov in on it?’ the Kid wanted to know.
‘He may have known they planned something like it, suggested that they tried it even,’ Dusty answered. ‘But I don’t reckon he was expecting it last night, or he wouldn’t’ve come with us.’
‘Maybe Glover just meant to collect his money from the box, then rob one of the other townsmen afore they lit out,’ Waco suggested, selecting the true reason although he would never know it. ‘With that cocked Colt on Lampart’s desk, they’d know better than try it against him.’
‘You’d figure they would,’ Dusty agreed. Then he gave his companions a warning about that particular weapon, concluding. ‘It’s just a notion I’ve got, but keep it in mind. It could help keep you alive.’
‘We’ll not forget,’ the Kid promised. ‘Did you learn anything from Emma?’
‘Nothing to help us,’ Dusty admitted. ‘But I got the feeling she wanted to tell me something. Could be she’s got notions of how she’d rate around town with us three backing her play, only she’s not sure how I stand with Lampart.’
‘Talking about him,’ Waco drawled. ‘His missus’s headed this way.’
‘I’d a notion she might,’ Dusty replied. ‘They made sure we couldn’t get together and talk in private last night and it looks like they figure to keep on doing it.’
Giselle’s arrival, riding her dainty palomino brought the trio’s discussion to an end. However, they had managed to exchange some information—mostly negative—and, more important, Dusty had had the opportunity to warn his amigos about the revolver which always lay cocked and ready for use on Lampart’s desk.
‘I wish I’d known you meant to come riding, Edward,’ Giselle said. ‘I do enjoy taking Goldie here out, but Simmy prefers I have an escort.’
‘We’ll keep it in mind, ma’am,’ Dusty declared.
Clearly Lampart did not intend letting Basmanov make an attempt to win ‘Ed Caxton’s’ friendship. On returning from their ride, the trio found the mayor and le Blanc waiting at the stable with an invitation for them to go to lunch. The Russian watched them go, scowling and brooding, but made no comment and did not try to interfere.
Playing on Lampart’s eagerness to impress him and his companions, and win their approbation, Dusty led him to talk about the town. The mayor had great pride in the community, or rather in his part in founding it. So he needed little prompting to divulge details of its history.
From what Lampart told them, Dusty, the Kid and Waco began to realize that the wagon train had been of a somewhat unusual nature. With the exception of the Lamparts and Orville Hatchet, their scout, every person on it had been a fugitive from justice. It had been Lampart who gathered them and arranged what should have been a safe passage to Mexico. Wishing to avoid coming into contact with peace officers, they had swung east of the regular route and so found themselves in danger of being massacred by the Kweharehnuh. The trio had already heard how that peril was averted and turned to Lampart’s advantage. Beyond mentioning how he had possessed contacts who put him in touch with a prime selection of fugitives, Lampart had refused to give further information in le Blanc’s presence.
The rest of the day passed quietly. In the afternoon, Hatchet, returned from ‘buying supplies’ in Paducah. Showing
a lack of tact, Giselle told him that ‘Comanche Blood’ was responsible for the loss of his horse when he had been riding with the posse. No trouble came from the remark, for Hatchet claimed he knew who had done it and why.
Dusty and his amigos found no opportunity to hold a private discussion that day. The Lamparts kept them occupied until sundown, then Emma and the girls took over. Once again Dusty shared the blonde’s bed. While she made passionate love to him, he sensed she wanted to take him into her confidence on some matter. However, they separated next morning without her doing so. He wondered if he should encourage her, or if he would be better employed in keeping Lampart satisfied with his loyalty. There was a chance that Emma had been told to learn his real feelings and report them to the mayor.
Due to the ruling about fires, the town tended to do most of its business at night. Consequently most of its residents and visitors slept late in the mornings. Dusty, the Kid and Waco were no exception to the rule.
Picking Giselle up at noon, the trio escorted her on a ride around the area. They were repaid by information when she mentioned that Hatchet had already left town to collect more supplies; and did not need an explanation of what that meant. On their return, they were invited to take a belated lunch with the Lamparts. As they were alone, the mayor expanded on the histories of the people who inhabited Hell.
Youseman had been a surgeon and Connolly’s partner carrying out experimental research on the subject of longevity. Needing corpses to work on, they had dealt with New York body snatchers. Then they had graduated to killing healthy people to obtain fresh blood, tissues and organs for their experiments. The law had got wind of their activities, causing them to flee for their lives. They had been able to produce sufficient money to buy places on Lampart’s wagon train.
Le Blanc had been a fashionable barber in New York until he had fallen in love with the beautiful wife of an elderly millionaire. Not until he had killed her husband did he discover that she loved another man and had merely been using him. He had murdered the couple in jealous rage, but was cool enough to carry off a large sum of money and a valuable collection of jewelry they had obtained to use as a start to their new life. With no other avenue of escape open to him, le Blanc had been willing to accept Lampart’s offer of transportation.
Goldberg and the jeweler had been prominent Wall Street brokers, manipulating the stock market for their mutual advantage. After they had organized a slump which ruined thousands of investors, they had been exposed by a Pinkerton agent planted in their office. Needing a safe haven for themselves and their ill-gotten gains, they had snapped up Lampart’s offer of providing it.
Driven from Russia because of his political activities, Basmanov had soon been up to his old tricks in the United States. Along with other anarchist agitators, he had formed a society whose aims had been to overthrow the government and take control in the ‘interests’ of the people. They had extorted money from immigrants and their funds had been further swelled by donations from various ‘liberal’ associations. Unfortunately, one of their number had planted a bomb on a bridge, wrecking a train with a heavy loss of lives and drawing unwanted attention to their activities. Sensing the net tightening about him, Basmanov had betrayed his companions and absconded with their not-inconsiderable funds. He too had been drawn into Lampart’s band of escaping criminals.
None of the other citizens had more savory backgrounds, their activities covering everything from white-slaving to drug smuggling and mass murder. One thing they all had in common: they were rich enough to pay their way and live in comfort—providing the forces of law and order did not find them.
From acquainting his audience with the unworthy natures of his fellow citizens, Lampart went on to impress them with his own brilliance. On winning the confidence of the Kweharehnuh and hearing about the ruined village deep in the Palo Duro country, he had seen its possibilities. After some argument, he had brought the other travelers around to his way of thinking. They had become persuaded that not only would they be safer than in Mexico, but they could also make their accumulated money earn more while awaiting the day when it would be safe for them to show their faces in public again.
Between them, the travelers had possessed the finances needed to rebuild the town. Owing to his part in a bloody racial conflict, the owner of the Chinese laundry was wanted by the law. However, he was an influential member of his Tong and brought in coolies to help with the work of building. As the Kid had guessed, the Mexican peons were slaves purchased from the Kweharehnuh. When all was ready, Hatchet had passed the word around the outlaw trails of what the town had to offer. The news could not have been better timed. It had come just after the Rangers were reformed and they were striking hard, closing down many hideouts used by the gangs.
From the beginning, Lampart had insisted on offering the visitors a high standard of service. Not only were the food and drinks of top quality, but the gambling games at the saloon were scrupulously honest. Considering that some of the players would be crooked gamblers capable of detecting any cheating method or device, the latter had been a wise precaution.
The high standard served a dual purpose, Lampart told the Texans. Scouts were posted to meet and check on the men who came to Hell, disarming them before guiding them in. That was to safeguard against protests when the outlaws learned they must hand over one tenth of their total loot if they wanted to stay. Lampart could point out the excellent amenities, and explain how much they cost, as an excuse for taking the money. Secondly, the quality went towards justifying the increased prices charged in the town. He stated that, after their first visit, none of the outlaws had raised objections to paying to the Civic Improvements Fund when they came again.
That, apparently, was as far as the mayor intended to go on the subject of the visitors. Guessing that they would not hear about the fate of the dead outlaws, the Kid had asked about Ten Bears’ reaction to having white men passing through his territory. Lampart admitted that, at first, the chief had not been keen on the idea. A further display of magic, backed by the offer of a repeating rifle and ammunition for every brave in the band, had brought him to a more amenable frame of mind.
‘Could be a mite risky giving all them bucks rifles and shells,’ Waco warned. ‘They might figure, having ’em, their medicine’s stronger than your’n.’
‘I made sure they know they’ll only have luck as long as they use the guns to help me,’ Lampart replied. ‘And I only hand out fifty rounds a month to each man. I had one bit of good fortune. A war bonnet chief called Kills Something was getting restless. He borrowed bullets from other men to arm a war party. They ambushed a patrol, but something went wrong and he was killed. His party had used up a whole lot of ammunition, with precious little but dead and wounded to show for it. That’s quietened the others down. They know there’s no more bullets for them until the next new moon.’
‘That’s fine as long as you don’t disappoint them when the time comes,’ Waco said, catching the Kid’s eye and wondering what he thought about having, inadvertently, helped Lampart to keep control of the Kweharehnuh.
‘I can,’ Lampart claimed. ‘The shack behind the house is filled with ammunition, and they know it.’
‘Maybe they’ll figure on helping themselves afore the new moon,’ Waco went on. ‘Comanch’ allows that Nemenuh brave-hearts can sneak a man’s hoss from under him on a dark night, and him not know until he tries to ride off on it. Be they close to that good, they’d get by them fellers you’ve got guarding it.’
‘They won’t touch that building,’ Lampart declared, with an air of self-satisfied confidence. ‘I’ve made sure of that.’
‘How?’ asked the Kid.
‘In two ways. I’ve had photographs of Ten Bears and the medicine woman taken. They think I’ve captured their souls and they’ll be damned if I destroy the pictures. So they use their influence to keep the braves in hand.’
‘Which’s only one way,’ Dusty hinted.
‘When the first of t
he guns and ammunition arrived, I called a meeting with Ten Bears and his men,’ Lampart obliged. ‘I warned them that I’d put a curse on the whole consignment which would kill any man who tried to steal from me or harm my friends. Then I gave them a practical demonstration. I placed a keg of powder out in the center of a large, bare patch of sand, stood fifty yards from it and told any brave who thought I was lying to try to fetch it back. Two took the challenge and the keg blew up when they reached it.’ He paused and finished, ‘Before they had even touched it at that.’
‘You had a feller hid out and he put a bullet into it,’ Waco guessed, knowing that the mayor wanted them to try to explain how he had worked the trick.
‘Unless it had been fired from so far away that the man could barely see the keg, much less hit it,’ Lampart replied, ‘they would have heard the shot.’
‘You couldn’t’ve run a fuse out to the keg,’ the Kid decided. ‘The braves’d’ve known what you was up to when you lit it.’
‘True enough, Comanche,’ Lampart grinned. ‘What do you think, Ed?’
‘You used a wire fuse and a “magnetic” battery to set the keg off,’ the small Texan stated, watching the mayor’s face register mingled annoyance and admiration at his summation. ‘I’ve heard tell of such, but never seen one used.’
‘The Indians hadn’t even heard tell of it,’ Lampart announced. ‘On the night before the meeting, I’d buried the wire and smoothed away all traces of it. Next day, while Giselle performed a special “medicine” dance around the box holding the battery, I carried the keg out to the wire.’
‘The Indians were all watching me,’ the brunette remarked. ‘And, if you’d seen what I was wearing, you’d know why.’
‘It distracted them all right,’ Lampart agreed. ‘None of them saw me find the wire and connect it to the detonator in the bottom of the keg. Then I came back, joined Giselle and we both made some “medicine” while I coupled up the other end to the battery. Misdirecting the audience is the basic part of a magician’s trade. I got the braves to take up my challenge and set off the keg when they reached it. You can imagine what kind of effect that made.’