Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles

by Compton, Ralph

  “Damn it,” said Wes, “cut it out. We’re in enough trouble already.”

  As though of one mind, Wes and El Lobo crept along the wall toward the partially open door until they could see into the hall without endangering themselves. They were greeted by two dead men and the thump of boots as somebody came up the stairs. Doors opened and just as quickly closed, as the curious realized the men lying in the hall were dead. Blood stained the gray carpet a dirty brown. Discovery being imminent, El Lobo and Wes each lighted a lamp. As they looked in horror upon the buckshot-riddled beds, understanding struck Monique and Louise almost simultaneously. Monique wept.

  “Dear God,” Louise cried, “they ... they...”

  “Would have murdered you along with me,” Wes finished.

  Timidly, the desk clerk peered in through the door.

  “You might as well fetch the law,” said Wes.

  “Yes, sir,” the young man said, eager to depart the grisly scene.

  El Lobo and Monique joined Wes and Louise, and the four of them sat down on the edge of the mutilated bed. The women looked at one another with terror-stricken eyes.

  “What are we going to do?” Monique sobbed.

  “You’re going to keep your mouth shut,” said Wes. “If you say anything, tell the law only that El Lobo and me fired in self-defense, and only after those dead hombres fired first. You never saw them before in your lives.”

  “But it’s the truth,” Louise cried. “They did fire first, and we don’t know them.”

  “But you know who sent them,” said Wes, “and you knew why they were coming.”

  “Honest to God,” Monique said, “we didn’t realize what we were getting into. We ...”

  “You didn’t know they intended to kill you along with us,” said Wes.

  “No,” Louise said, “but it ... seemed like a way out for us, to a better life. Now that it’s too late, we know better. What’s going to become of us?”

  “You have nothing to fear from us,” said Wes, “and if you keep your silence, there’ll be no trouble with the law. We know who put you up to this, and we’ll be going after them.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Monique cried, “they’ll be coming after us.”

  “Not likely,” said Wes, “if they can’t find you. Besides, you carried out your end of the deal. It’s not your fault El Lobo and me outgunned their bushwhackers. They might suspect you double-crossed them and warned us. You’d better not return to New Orleans.”

  “We can never go back there,” Louise said, “but where can we go?”

  “Take a steamboat to Omaha,” said Wes, “and from there, take the Union Pacific on to California.”

  There was the sound of boots on the stairs and voices in the hall. The desk clerk had arrived with the law. Deputy Sheriff Kilmer was a big man with blue eyes and gray hair. After studying the dead bodies in the hall, he paused in the doorway, his eyes on Wes, El Lobo, and the two women.

  “Anybody got anything to say that might shed some light on this?” Kilmer asked.

  “Nothing you can’t figure out for yourself,” said Wes. “They fired at us and we fired back. We’re claiming self-defense.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” Kilmer said, “nor will the judge. Not many survive a double blast from a shotgun. How come it was that none of you were in bed at the time?”

  “Bed too soft,” said El Lobo.

  “I see,” Kilmer said, his eyes on the coverlet spread in the corner. “I reckon I’ll take a look in the other room.”

  He was gone only a few minutes and nobody said anything in his absence. While he was gone, the desk clerk came in, obviously worried.

  “I hope you won’t fault the hotel for this,” the young man said. “Being on duty, I will be held responsible if there’s trouble.”

  “We won’t make any claims against you or the hotel,” Wes said. “You were in no way at fault. Sorry about your beds.”

  Deputy Sheriff Kilmer returned and spoke to the desk clerk.

  “I suggest you assign other rooms to whoever is paying for these. The four of you,” he said, speaking to Wes, El Lobo, and the women, will have to go before the judge in the morning. Testimony from the ladies will be necessary to back your claim of self-defense. I must warn any of you against leaving before this is resolved. I will meet all of you in the lobby at nine o‘clock to escort you to the court. Do you understand the importance of this appearance?“

  “We do,” Wes said, “and we’ll be ready.”

  “Ladies,” said the desk clerk, “come with me, and I’ll assign you other rooms.”

  “One room, please,” Monique said. “After what’s happened, we’re afraid to be alone.”

  Obviously they hadn’t been alone at the time of the shooting, and the desk clerk raised his eyebrows. Deputy Sheriff Kilmer said nothing, but left the room and started down the hall. The two dead men must be removed.

  “Louise, Monique,” said Wes, “we’ll join you for breakfast. Come on, amigo, and let’s get what sleep we can.”

  Wes and El Lobo entered their room and Wes locked the door. El Lobo sighed with relief, and Empty growled in a strange manner.

  “Oh, shut up,” Wes said. “You were right. You don’t have to rub it in.”

  Chapter 5

  The hotel’s dining room opened at six o‘clock in the morning, and Wes took Empty there to be fed before the cooks got too busy. At seven, Wes and El Lobo joined Louise and Monique for breakfast. After the violence of the night before, the women were in a somber mood, and there was little conversation during the meal. When they were finished, there was an hour’s wait before their meeting with Deputy Sheriff Kilmer.

  “We’ve decided to take your advice and go on to California,” Louise said.

  “Then you should leave as soon as possible,” said Wes, “before word of last night’s failed ambush gets back to certain people. Let them think you’re going on to Boulder, as planned. It could buy you some time.”

  “You saved our lives,” Monique said, “after we tried to get you killed. There’s no way we can ever repay you.”

  “Maybe there is,” said Wes. “You can tell us everything you know about the man or men who sent you after us. For starters, who is Sam Brenner?”

  “A politician involved with the gambling syndicate in New Orleans,” Louise said.

  “A bought politician, then,” said Wes.

  “Yes,” Louise replied. “The fancy house where we worked is fronted by Madam Lily English, and caters only to politicians, bankers, judges, and the like. Nobody just walks in off the street. The house is in the garden district, a respectable residential area.”

  “If Madam English only fronts the place,” said Wes, “who owns it?”

  “We have no idea,” Monique said. “We’ve heard the name Emo Hanks mentioned, but we met him only once. Madam English told us we had just two hours to board a steamboat. We were told we would receive money and instructions from Hanks.”

  “And you did,” said Wes. “Did Hanks tell you what he had planned for us?”

  “No,” Louise said. “Nothing was said about ... what happened last night. He only told us to get to know you on the steamboat, and somewhere—in Kansas City or Boulder—to get you in what he called a compromising position.”

  “I reckon Madam English has been involved in that sort of thing before,” said Wes.

  “Yes,” Louise said, “but this was the first time for Monique and me. We’ve heard talk among the other women about ... syndicates ... and how they win control of judges, bankers, politicians, and men in high places.”

  “That tells us plenty about the varmints we’re dealing with,” said Wes. “Get a man in bed with a fancy woman, and he’s ripe for blackmail. They can own him or ruin him.”

  “That’s how we understood it,” Monique said. “I swear we had no idea we were about to involve ourselves in murder.”

  “I can promise you it goes a lot deeper than blackmailing prominent men,” said Wes, �
�and it’s important that they don’t find either of you. This outfit kills within its own ranks and they’ll be on our trail before we leave Kansas City.”

  “Then we’ll go immediately after this appearance in court,” Louise said. “Perhaps we can be on our way to Omaha before they learn about ... last night.”

  They remained in the dining room until nine o‘clock, and going to the hotel lobby, found Deputy Sheriff Kilmer waiting for them.

  “I have a hack waiting outside,” said Kilmer. “It will take you there and return you to the hotel afterward.”

  Kilmer was mounted and rode along behind the hack. The distance wasn’t great and they reached the courthouse at half past nine. The proceedings took only a few minutes, and after Deputy Sheriff Kilmer presented the evidence, the court accepted a plea of self-defense from Wes and El Lobo. After they had left the courtroom, Kilmer spoke.

  “I reckon I’m done with you. Will you be stayin’ in town?”

  “No,” said Wes. “We’re all leaving today.”

  “Adios then, and good luck,” Kilmer said, with an obvious sigh of relief.

  “The hotel desk clerk should have a railroad and steamboat schedule,” said Wes. “Let’s find out.”

  “There’s a steamboat departing for Omaha at eleven,” the clerk said, “and a westbound for Dodge City and points west at half past eleven.”

  Wes summoned a hack for Louise and Monique, but they seemed reluctant to go.

  “I wish we weren’t parting company,” Louise said.

  “So do I,” said Monique. “We may never see you again.”

  “It’s best if you don‘t,” Wes said. “Remember last night.”

  “We’ll never forget it,” said Louise.

  Already their trunks had been loaded in the hack, and with sighs and good-byes they climbed aboard. Wes and El Lobo watched them out of sight.

  “They tell us much,” said El Lobo. “What we do about Hanks?”

  “Nothing we can do, now,” Wes replied. “Before we could return to New Orleans, he would be out of our reach. Better they don’t know what Louise and Monique told us about Hanks. Maybe we’ll get a chance at him later.”

  “Sí,” said El Lobo, “if Monique and Louise no lie.”

  “I think what happened last night scared the truth out of them,” Wes said. “Probably without realizing it, they told us how the forces of the Dragon gets and keeps men under its control. Trap a bank president, a judge, or a lawman in bed with a whore, and there’s no end to the blackmail. I can see many an honest man turning crooked to save himself.”

  “I get horses while you get perro,” said El Lobo.

  “No,” Wes said. “Stay here in the lobby until I fetch Empty, and then we’ll both go for the horses. The Dragon’s had time to learn about last night’s failed ambush, and there might be another before we reach the railroad depot.”

  Empty had been too long confined to the hotel room, and he came down the stairs well ahead of Wes. Canrying their Winchesters, Wes and El Lobo headed for the livery stable in the next block. Saddling their horses, they rode to the AT & SF depot that Wes well remembered. The westbound stood ready on a side track, the big locomotive chuffing as it kept up steam. There was a tender, a baggage car, two passenger coaches, and a caboose.

  “Damn,” said Wes, “there’s no boxcar for the horses. Come on.”

  “Sorry,” the clerk said when they went to get their tickets. “No boxcar’s been ordered for this run.”

  “Our horses are goin’ with us,” Wes said.

  “Then you’ll have to lay over until tomorrow,” said the clerk. “It’s too near departure time. I can order a boxcar for the westbound in the morning.”

  “Then order one,” Wes growled. “Just to be sure that you do, we’ll buy tickets now.”

  Wes led the way toward the waiting train.

  “Why we need tickets now?” El Lobo asked.

  “We don‘t,” said Wes, “but somebody may be watching, and they don’t know we won’t be leaving on this train. Just before it pulls out, we’ll enter one of the passenger cars and get out on the other side. It might buy us a little time to lose whoever might be trailing us.”

  “Bueno,” El Lobo said.

  Suddenly there were three shrill blasts of the locomotive’s whistle.

  “Come on,” said Wes. “She’s leaving.”

  Empty, having traveled with Nathan Stone, was no stranger to trains, and he didn’t like them any more than he liked steamboats. In the urgency of the moment, Wes lifted him bodily aboard. As protection from the morning sun, the blinds were down on most of the windows, and leading the way, Wes headed for the front of the coach. On the opposite side of the car, passengers were entering. As soon as the steps were clear, Wes, El Lobo, and Empty bounded down them. The conductor watched in surprise as they ran toward the big locomotive. Ducking beneath the water tank, they quickly lost themselves behind stacks of railroad ties.

  “Bueno,” said El Lobo.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Wes said. “We still have to make our way back beyond the depot, to our horses. But we’ll stay here for a while, after the train pulls out. Might be a chance nobody saw us leave the train.”

  “We don’t know they trail us,” said El Lobo.

  “No,” Wes said, “but it’s a risk we can’t afford to take.”

  “We go back to hotel?”

  “No,” said Wes. “We’ll go to a different one. There’s one much closer that the railroad men favor, and there’s a livery across the street.”

  Half an hour after the train had departed, they made their way back to the horses and went from there directly to the livery. It was a busy place, renting horses and hacks to passengers on incoming trains. Wes and El Lobo made arrangements for their horses for the night, then carefully made their way across the street to a two-story lodging house appropriately named The Depot Hotel. Next door to it was a café that never closed. Wes asked for and was assigned a room on the ground floor, near the lobby. Once inside their room, El Lobo bolted the door.

  “Just on the chance we got here without being followed,” said Wes, “I think we’ll stay put for a while. We can take supper and breakfast at the café next door and maybe lose ourselves among the railroad men.”

  The hotel was less pretentious than the River Side, but it was comfortable. The clang of bells and the shriek of locomotive whistles kept Empty on edge for a while, but Wes and El Lobo had stretched out on the bed and slept soundly.

  Dodge City, Kansas. October 19, 1884.

  Eleven men had gathered in the one small room at the Dodge House. Ten were armed, some with twin Colts, all with Winchesters. The eleventh man, dressed in a dark suit and boiled shirt, might have been a banker or a lawyer. It was he who spoke.

  “All of you stay out of the saloons and draw as little attention to yourselves as possible. Meet me here tomorrow at twelve noon, and I’ll have word from Kansas City regarding the men you’ll be looking for. They’ll most surely be on tomorrow’s westbound.”

  “You said they was comin’ today,” one of the armed men growled. “We done wasted a day, Grover.”

  “That’s Mr. Grover to you, Jernigan, and you’re being paid by the job, not by the day. Once this pair is dead, each of you earns a thousand dollars, if it takes you a day or a week. Any questions?”

  “Yeah,” said another of the armed men.

  “All right, Dixon,” Grover said, “what is it?”

  “Long as these hombres die, you don’t care how we do the job?”

  “No,” said Grover, “because if you botch the job and have to answer to the law or to the railroad, I never saw you before in my life.”

  “Fair enough,” Dixon said, “but I ain’t ridin’ out to stop no train without some money up front. Hell, you may not be here when we get back.”

  Grover laughed. “I’ll have five hundred in double eagles for each of you tomorrow, and the other five hundred when you return. That is, after I’m satisfied
you have earned it. Now leave here quietly, one at a time, and I don’t want all of you stomping in here at the same time tomorrow. Remember, there’ll be witnesses on that train, and the law will be questioning them.”

  Jernigan laughed. “Maybe we’ll just shoot the whole damn bunch.”

  Grover said nothing, and one by one they left, closing the door behind them. When the last of them had departed, Grover locked the door and removed a leather suitcase from a closet. Opening it, he hefted the bag of double eagles, laughing to himself.

  “You’ll get your money,” said Grover. “All of it. But when you learn the value of it, if you do, I don’t think you’ll complain to the law.”

  Except for meals, Wes and El Lobo remained in their room near the railroad depot until almost train time the following day, arriving with just enough time to see their horses safely aboard the boxcar. Besides the locomotive and tender, there was a baggage coach, the boxcar, two passenger coaches, and a caboose. While there were no ambush attempts, they were watched as they boarded the train, and the lone observer hurried to the telegraph office. With twin blasts from its whistle, the big locomotive lurched into motion as it headed west.

  Dodge City, Kansas. October 20, 1884.

  “They’re aboard the westbound,” Grover told the assembled gunmen. “I want you to stop the train a hundred miles east of Dodge. I want none of the other passengers harmed and none of the railroad’s men, if it can be avoided.”

  “You don’t expect much, do you?” said Dixon. “It’ll be pitch dark—black as the inside of a stove pipe—by then. How do we tear up some of the track without derailin’ the damn train?”

  “You don’t tear up the track,” Grover said in disgust. “A couple of you will board the moving train, pull guns on the fireman and engineer, and force them to stop. Now, must I draw you a picture, or can you take it from there?”

  “We can do it,” said Dixon sullenly. “Where’s our money?”

  “Here,” Grover said, reaching under the bed for the bags of gold coins.