Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles

by Compton, Ralph

  “He go, we follow,” said El Lobo.

  “It’s more of a break than I ever expected,” Wes said. “I just hope he’s not mounted, since we’re afoot.”

  “I go for horses,” said El Lobo.

  “No,” Wes said. “He’s scraping bottom, and he might leave while you’re gone. We’ll just have to gamble that he’s not mounted.”

  The unfortunate gambler’s losing streak continued, and he soon folded. Kicking back his chair, he got up and started toward the bar. Then, either lacking money or having changed his mind, he headed for the door. Wes and El Lobo waited until he was gone before taking their leave. While it was already dark outside, the hour was still early, and buildings all along the boardwalk were ablaze with light. Wes and El Lobo had no trouble following, watching as he entered a building in the next block. Above the door hung a faded sign that said ROOMS FOR RENT.

  “We can’t afford to lose him,” said Wes. “Let’s rent a room.”

  Wes and El Lobo entered the small office as their quarry had started up the stairs.

  “Landry,” said the elderly man behind the desk, “your rent’s due tomorrow.”

  “Damn it,” Landry said, pausing, “it ain’t tomorrow yet. You’ll get your money.”

  He went on up the creaking stairs as Wes and El Lobo approached the desk.

  “We’d like to rent a room,” said Wes.

  “Three dollars a night or fifteen for a week,” the clerk said. “No meals included.”

  “We’ll pay for a week,” said Wes, handing the man a double eagle.

  “Hope you stay awhile,” the man said. “I got too many like Landry. He’s been livin’ here for months, an’ he’s always late with his rent. You got number four upstairs, right next to him.”

  “Thanks,” said Wes.

  Quickly he and El Lobo climbed the stairs. Except for a bracket lamp at each end, the hall was dark, and it wasn’t difficult to find Landry’s room. Lamplight leaked out under the door of room 3. Quietly Wes unlocked the door to their room. In the feeble light from the hall they could see a coal oil lamp on a table beside the bed, but they left it unlighted. Wes closed the door and sat down on the bed while El Lobo took the room’s only chair. They said nothing, for the walls were thin and they could hear Landry’s every move. It being early evening, it seemed strange that Landry should be turning in for the night, so Wes and El Lobo waited. Eventually their patience was rewarded when there was a soft knock on Landry’s door.

  “About time you got here, Parkin,” said Landry when he opened the door. “You bring a bottle?”

  “Yeah,” Parkin said. “Not so damn loud.”

  Landry closed and locked the door, and there was a creak as one of the men sat on the bed. There followed a few moments of silence, while the pair might have been partaking of the bottle. Finally Parkin spoke.

  “Where was you today?”

  “Havin’ a little time to myself,” said Landry. “Why?”

  “Belton was askin’ about you,” Parkin said. “You didn’t report in.”

  “Hell,” said Landry angrily, “I ain’t never missed a job. Belton don’t own me.”

  “I reckon that’s between you and him,” Parkin said. “He’s called everybody together for tomorrow night. If you’re smart, you’ll be there.”

  “I’ll be there,” said Landry. “When?”

  “Well after dark,” Parkin replied. “Nine o‘clock.”

  Wes and El Lobo listened without learning anything more. As Parkin prepared to leave, Wes got up from the bed as quietly as he could, while El Lobo arose from the chair. As the door to Landry’s room closed, Wes waited until Parkin had started down the hall before easing the door open. Instead of going through the lobby, Parkin descended the back stairs. Quickly, Wes and El Lobo followed, reaching the back door as Parkin rode away.

  “Damn it,” said Wes, “if we only had the horses.”

  “Now what we do?” EI Lobo asked.

  “Nothing more tonight,” said Wes. “We’ll return to our place near the bay. Tomorrow night, we’ll be here to follow Landry.”

  “Bring horses,” El Lobo said.

  “For sure,” said Wes. “Landry’s our only lead. We don’t dare lose him.”

  Near the southern end of San Francisco Bay, on the east bank, the warehouse in which Otis Belton was headquartered was heavily guarded. Its few windows were barred, and the brass-plated reinforced doors offered limited access. It was here that much of the newly minted stolen gold was hoarded. Abel Wilks, Belton’s second-in-command, had just arrived with a message that displeased Belton.

  “Damn,” said Belton. “All that preparation in Carson City for nothing. Why didn’t they telegraph us instead of sending a written report? We’d have been better prepared here, if that pair of hell-raisers get this far.”

  “No evidence that they have,” Wilks said. “As you know, we have a contact inside the mint itself, and we’ve had it watched day and night, from the outside.”

  “What about Elberton’s place?”

  “He’s been followed to and from the mint every day, and the house has been watched every night,” said Wilks. “Nothing suspicious so far.”

  “I want every man here tonight,” Belton said.

  “I’ll see to it,” said Wilks.

  The following evening, near sundown, Wes and El Lobo tethered their horses behind a vacant store building near the rooming house where they had taken a room adjoining Landry’s. Avoiding the lobby, they climbed the back stairs, making their way quietly along the hall to their room. There was no light under Landry’s door, nor was there any sound of activity within. After two hours, Wes got impatiently to his feet.

  “Per‘ap he don’t pay rent,” El Lobo said.

  “More likely that he spent the day in a saloon and went from there to the meeting with Belton,” said Wes. “I think we’ve just wasted the best opportunity we’ve had so far.”

  “Sí,” El Lobo said. “Per‘ap we follow him wherever he go.”

  “I reckon that’s what it’ll take,” said Wes, “and it’ll be a lot more risky. If he sees one or both of us everywhere he goes, he’ll get wise pronto.”

  Despite the boredom, they waited until Landry returned to the roominghouse. Once he had blown out the lamp and settled down for the night. Wes and El Lobo slipped down the back stairs and returned to their place near the bay.

  “It’s past midnight,” Wes said. “Landry likely won’t be up and about at the crack of dawn, but we can’t risk losing him. We still don’t know where he keeps his horse, if he has one, so we’ll have to watch the front and the back of his rooming house.”

  San Francisco, California. February 8, 1885.

  “I don’t like it,” Otis Belton said. “Everything is too quiet.”

  Abel Wilks laughed. “We got the federals buffaloed. After that trick in Carson City, I won’t be surprised if they called in their dogs. We ain’t seen nothin’ of ‘em.”

  “In Indian country,” said Belton, “the time to worry about Indians is when you don’t see them. I’m inclined to think we’d be wise to observe that rule here. Some of our outfit—Landry for one—spends entirely too much time in saloons and whorehouses. There’s a chance one of them could be followed here.”

  “Maybe,” Wilks agreed, “but ain’t it time we was movin’ to a new location?”

  “Not necessarily,” said Belton. “This is near the bay, where movement to and from the incoming and outgoing ships is less likely to attract attention. You’re not facing up to the problem. If somebody gets careless, he can be trailed to us, wherever we are.”

  “Yeah,” Wilks said. “I see what you mean. We need more men on watch.”

  “Not here, damn it,” said Belton. “Station too many men around this place, and they’ll only attract attention. There’s cafés, billiard parlors, and dives all along the waterfront. I want a man in one of these places near each end of the bay, keepin’ an eye out for anybody lookin’ suspicious. Espec
ially strangers. Hombres lookin’ like they don’t belong here are to be followed. Not just when they’re comin’ our direction, but when they leave. I want those men on watch immediately. Just see to it Landry’s not one of them.”

  Despite the early hour, Wes and El Lobo were on watch at first light. Wes had taken a position across the street from the front of Landry’s rooming house, while El Lobo was across an alley where he could see the back stairs. The horses had been picketed behind a nearby vacant building, where there was some graze. Empty had been left with the horses. When Landry eventually left the rooming house, it was by the front door. He was afoot, and Wes watched him go to the nearest café. He then circled around and warned El Lobo.

  “He’s gone to eat,” said Wes, “but we can’t be sure he’ll go back to his rooming house when he leaves there. We’ll have to take the horses and stake out the café. ”

  For lack of cover, Wes and El Lobo were forced to go into a saloon across the street, where they could watch the café. They ordered beer, taking a table near the front window, where they could watch the café’s entrance.

  “Per‘ap he go out back,” El Lobo said.

  “No reason why he should,” said Wes, “unless he suspects he’s being followed. If he does, then we need to know, so we’ll wait.”

  Having spent less than an hour in the café, Landry exited by the front door. Crossing the street, he entered the very saloon where Wes and El Lobo waited. They ignored him as he bought a bottle, and when he left, he started in the direction of his rooming house.

  “I reckon it’ll be a long wait,” Wes said as he and El Lobo started in pursuit. “He can nurse that bottle the rest of the day, and take all of tonight sleepin’ it off.”

  As expected, Landry returned to his rooming house, and with little choice El Lobo and Wes again took up their vigil. At midnight, with no sign of Landry, they again rode back to their place overlooking the bay.

  “We’ll try again tomorrow,” said Wes. “If he’s part of the Dragon’s outfit, eventually he’ll have to meet with the others. When he does, we’ll be right behind him.”

  Chapter 13

  Shortly after dawn the following morning, Wes and El Lobo again took up their vigil. As expected, Landry rose late, and leaving the rooming house, he went to the same café to eat. It was near enough for Wes to see the entrance, and he kept his position, since there was little cover near the café, Having Landry see one or both of them two days in a row—even in a saloon—might arouse his suspicions. But this time, when Landry left the café he avoided the nearby saloon, returning to the rooming house. A little more than an hour later, he left by the back stairs and El Lobo followed him to a nearby shed where he kept his horse. While he saddled the animal, El Lobo quickly alerted Wes. They saddled their own horses and were concealed in the alley when Landry rode out. The avenue following the bay was wide, lined with palms, and it wasn’t difficult keeping their quarry in sight, even from a considerable distance. Landry rode south, past various shops catering to seafaring men. It being early, most of the saloons hadn’t opened, but several—calling themselves casinos—never closed. From within one of these, one of Belton’s sentries watched Landry ride past. Within a few moments, he observed two riders who appeared to be following Landry. Allowing them to get well ahead, he mounted his horse and rode after them, keeping them in sight.

  “The best we can do is find out where he’s going,” Wes said as he and El Lobo rode after Landry. “There’ll likely be sentries, and we can’t seem too interested.”

  Landry eventually left the avenue, riding toward a squat, flat-roofed building a hundred yards distant. Wes and El Lobo continued on, taking only casual looks at the structure.

  “There be no door,” said El Lobo as Landry rode around behind the building.

  “It’s in back,” Wes said, “but there are windows in the front, and I’d bet my saddle there are men behind those bars with Winchesters. We’ll ride on until we reach a street or road leadin’ back from the bay. Maybe we can get a look at the back of the place.”

  Suddenly El Lobo reined up and dismounted. He then raised the right front foot of his horse, as though looking for a stone. He then mounted his horse and rode on, and when he finally spoke, he didn’t look at Wes.

  “We be followed,” he said.

  “Then we’re on to something,” said Wes. “We’ll forget about ridin’ back for another look, and lose the hombre trailin’ us. He must have been staked out in one of those cafés or saloons.”

  They rode on at a slightly faster gait. Parkin, trailing them, kicked his horse into a lope as he found himself falling behind.

  “There’s a cross street,” Wes said. “Maybe we can lose him.”

  Being near the bay, there were many warehouses and storage facilities, and scattered among them were cafés, saloons, and a wagon yard. Next to it was a livery. Wes and El Lobo rode in and dismounted.

  “We just rode in,” Wes told the hostler, “and our horses are needin’ grain. You got a couple of stalls where we can rub ‘em down while they eat?”

  “Sure,” said the hostler. “It’ll be two dollars for the grain.”

  The stalls near the far end of the barn proved ideal. Wes and El Lobo took their time rubbing down the horses, for it provided them a legitimate reason for remaining in the barn. Thanks to the warm climate, there were head-high, foot-square openings in the stalls for ventilation, and through one of these, Wes and El Lobo could see the entrance to the wagon yard. They watched as a single rider approached. He paused only a moment near the wagon yard and then rode on. Half an hour later, he rode back the way he had come, toward the avenue that led alongside the bay.

  “We’re rid of him,” said Wes, “but now they’ll know we’re here.”

  “Sí,” El Lobo said. “They know we follow Landry.”

  “We won’t be following Landry anymore,” said Wes. “They’ll give him hell for allowing himself to be followed. At the very least, he’ll be told not to return to that room of his.”

  Puzzled at the disappearance of Wes and El Lobo, Parkin rode back to the warehouse in which Otis Belton was headquartered.

  “What are you doing here?” Belton demanded. “You’re supposed to be on watch.”

  “I have been on watch,” said Parkin testily. “Two riders was followin’ Landry, and I followed them, until I lost them.”

  “Lost them?” Belton roared.

  “Yeah,” said Parkin. “They rode by here, took the cross street a mile south, and from there I don’t know where they went. They disappeared, horses and all. Landry still here?”

  “No,” Belton said, “but I want him here just as quickly as he can be found. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Find him.”

  Parkin and Landry, partners in crime, had come to California together. Now Parkin felt like a Judas. While he had followed Belton’s orders, he wasn’t even sure the two riders he had followed were actually trailing Landry. He was sure, however, that Landry was out of it, one way or the other. He found Landry in his favorite saloon, where Wes and El Lobo had first become suspicious of him.

  “You got to ride, and keep ridin‘,” Parkin said. “You were followed, and Belton sent me to look for you.”

  “Who the hell says I was followed?” said Landry.

  “I do,” Parkin s id. “I was on watch, and two riders followed you.”

  “So you turned me in to Belton,” said Landry. “Thanks.”

  “I was followin’ orders,” Parkin said. “Now I’m warning you, instead of takin’ you in, which could get me shot dead. All I can do is tell Belton I couldn’t find you. Now will you get as far from here, as quick as you can, or do you want to face Belton?”

  “I’ll go,” said Landry angrily, “but I ain’t forgettin’ you sold me out.”

  Wes and El Lobo left the livery, careful not to ride back along the bay. Instead, they rode north until they were well beyond the area where they suspected they had first been seen. From there th
ey rode back to their cabin.

  “We may not be able to stay here much longer,” Wes said. “Now that they know or suspect we’re here, we’ll have to watch our every move. Before we get in any deeper, I reckon we’d better do something with the gold we brought with us.”

  “Sí,” said El Lobo. “Send to Tamara and Renita, in El Paso.”

  “I wish we could,” Wes said, “but Silver warned us about contacting them. I reckon all we can do is put it in a bank and try to claim it later on.”

  They each kept a thousand dollars for their own needs and deposited the rest in The Bank of San Francisco.

  “What we do now?” El Lobo asked.

  “Tonight,” said Wes, “we’ll have another look at that building beside the bay. Now that Landry’s of no more use to us, that’s the only lead we have.”

  Wes and El Lobo waited until well past midnight before leaving afoot, and this time, Empty went with them. They avoided the avenue that led alongside the bay, keeping instead to the industrial area well beyond. Eventually they came in behind the warehouse to which they had followed Landry. There were two double doors through which a wagon could be driven, and a single door. There were no windows.

  “Just our luck,” said Wes. “All the windows are on the sides and front, where they can easily be seen.”

  “Si,” El Lobo said, “and they all have bars. No use door, no use window.”

  “That don’t leave much,” said Wes, “except the roof. Looks like a skylight up there.”

  “What that be?”

  “Generally a boxlike affair, with a glass partition that opens up, lettin’ in light and air,” Wes said. “Now all we got to figure out is how to reach the roof.”

  But that was the least of their problems. While there were no windows at the rear of the building, there were numerous openings—invisible in the darkness—just large enough for peepholes and to accommodate the muzzle of a Winchester. The only warning Wes and El Lobo had was an ominous growl from Empty as they drew near the building. Just as they went belly-down on the ground, the back wall of the place seemed to blossom with gunfire. The nearest cover—back the way they had come—was a drainage ditch lined with bushes and high weeds. Frantically they scrambled away. They could not return the fire, for they had no targets. The last few yards shy of cover, they leaped to their feet and ran, only to fall victim to the flying lead. Unsure of their targets, the gunmen were firing low. Wes felt his left leg go numb and it gave out beneath him as he tumbled into the muddy water of the drainage ditch. A splash in the darkness was proof enough that El Lobo had joined him.