“I will,” said the girl who had been freed first.
Nathan helped her over the rail, gripping her shoulders until she was able to take hold of the heavy rope. She went down the rope too quickly and her feet struck with such force she almost capsized the dinghy. It righted itself, and Nathan could see her pale face below.
“She made it,” Nathan said, “and so can the rest of you.”
They loaded the dinghy surprisingly well, with Nathan keeping one eye on the forward deck. When the last of the captives had joined the others in the boat, Nathan pulled the slipknot, gratified to see them using the oars to propel the dinghy away from the hull of the Queen of Diamonds. Slowly, the eddying current pulled the dinghy toward open water. Close to the farthest bank, the packet lurked without running lights and was all but invisible. The blast of the steamboat’s whistle rent the night. The Queen was about to depart. By now, Nathan hoped the small government vessel had taken aboard the women occupants of the drifting dinghy. Nathan now had but one task remaining. Taking the canister of powder, he crept along the narrow catwalk until he was directly behind the huge paddlewheel. He was outside the deck rail, and he hoisted the cannister of powder up onto the deck, next to an iron upright that supported the rail. With a length of rope that he’d brought for that purpose, he bound the canister to the iron upright. That put the charge where, if it did nothing else, it would permanently disable the craft. Nathan made his way back along the catwalk, trailing the fuse until it ran out. He was but a few steps from the open side of the lower deck, and here he would remain until he’d lit the fuse.
Nathan thrilled to the sound of three shrill blasts from the packet’s whistle. It seemed Captain Powers was about to get Stumberg’s attention. Almost before the echo of the whistle had died, there was a babble of voices on the main deck almost above Nathan’s head, then French Stumberg’s angry voice.
“Get your rifles ready. When they’re close enough, fire.”
But Captain Tolliver had expected that. He remained just far enough behind to make shooting uncertain but near enough for Captain Powers to issue his challenge through a megaphone.
“This is Captain Powers, representing the attorney general’s office of the United States of America. We have a Federal arrest warrent for French Stumberg and Federal John Doe arrest warrents for every man on board. If you refuse to submit to arrest, we’ll sink you.”
“We have hostages aboard,” Stumberg shouted. “A hostile move from you, and they die.”
“You have no hostages,” Powers responded. “This is your last chance.”
“Danvers, Odom, Dawson,” Stumberg bawled, “bring me three of the women, and do it fast.”
From the deck of the trailing packet, Grago cocked a Winchester and fired a single shot. Nathan waited only to hear Stumberg’s reaction when he was told his hostages were gone. He was in a position where he couldn’t be seen unless they came looking for him, but the three men Stumberg had sent to the lower deck didn’t think of that. They hastened to report the shocking news.
“Gone!” Stumberg bawled. “Gone! Damn it, Frazier, you and Watkins get the wraps off the Gatling gun and be prepared to fire. They won’t come to us, then by God, I’ll turn this boat around and we’ll go after them.”
Nathan heard no more. He had no idea how swiftly the Queen of Diamonds could reverse her course, but if she were close enough, the blast might take the government packet with it. As swiftly as he could, Nathan again crept along the catwalk until he reached the end of the trailing fuse. Stumberg’s Gatling gun on the main deck had tilted the odds and they no longer had ten minutes. With his knife, Nathan cut away a third of the fuse and lighted the rest. It greatly reduced his escape time, and his life was in the hands of Captain Tolliver. Reaching the open deck, he leaped the rail and plummeted into the cold, dark water. Slowly the stern of the Queen began to turn to the farthest bank, as Stumberg made good his threat. But again old Captain Tolliver was ready, and the packet, too, had changed course. She glided as near the far bank as possible, neatly escaping Stumberg’s cumbersome craft. Nathan ceased fighting the current and drifted with it. He wished to be as far downstream as possible when the explosion came. He tried to estimate how much time had elapsed. While Captain Tolliver wouldn’t know of Stumberg’s intention to use a Gatling gun, there was no mistaking the intended pursuit. And Tolliver was aware of the coming explosion, perhaps only seconds away. He should be fleeing downriver, seeking to distance his craft from the Queen, nearing Nathan’s position. And there she was! Still without running lights, she came near enough for Nathan to see Grago throwing him a line. Nathan caught it, thankful for the harness, for his arms were numb with cold and exhaustion. They hauled him aboard, gasping for breath, trying to speak through chattering teeth.
“Ease up,” Grago said. “The worst is over.”
“No ... time,” Nathan gasped. “No ... time. I shortened the ... fuse ...”
“My God,” said Grago, “they’re comin’ after us. Captain Tolliver, give it hell. He shortened the fuse and she could blow any second.”
“He has a ... Gatling gun on the ... main deck,” Nathan said. “Something I didn’t ... know ...”
But turning the big vessel had taken some time, and for the Queen, time had run out. When the explosion came—though she was half a mile distant—the force of it shook the government packet, shattering some of the glass in the pilot house. Upriver, flames leaped toward the moonless heavens, stretching ghastly, dancing reflections along the surface of the dark water. Every soul aboard the little vessel huddled on the main deck, awed by the enormity of what they were witnessing.
“Great God Almighty,” Captain Tolliver breathed, “I’ve never seen the like of this, and I hope I never do so again.”
“Captain Powers,” Grago asked, “will there be a search for survivors?”
“No,” said Powers, “I see no need. We will report no survivors.”
New Orleans. December 31, 1866.
Nathan promised to meet with Powers and Grago before leaving New Orleans. He then took his horse from the livery and for what might be the last time, rode to Barnabas McQueen’s place. He took some satisfaction in having Cotton Blossom come running to meet him. McQueen and Bess stood on the porch, watching him ride in.
“Well,” McQueen said, “we’re glad to see you, for several reasons. This friend of yours has been hard as hell to keep abed, even with a bullet hole through him. I swear, he’s worried about you like he’s your old granny.”
“I reckon I needed somebody to worry about me,” said Nathan. “There’s a lot to tell, so let’s all get together so I don’t have to tell it but once.”
Silver sat up in bed, looking every bit as fidgety and out-of-sorts as McQueen had implied.
“If I ever step into your boots again,” Nathan said, “I aim to know more about your commitments.”
Silver laughed. “Sorry. They swore me to silence. Tell me what you did and how you did it. Maybe I can learn something.”
“I doubt that,” said Nathan, “but I’ll tell you what I did. God only knows how I did it.”
He began with the sending of the coded telegram and ended with the destruction of the Queen of Diamonds.
“God,” Silver said, “that took sand. With Powers, Grago, and me behind you, you could name your own price with the Federals.”
“I reckon not,” said Nathan. “Why don’t you saddle up and ride with me?”
“It’s a temptation,” Silver said, “but this easy living is gettin’ to me. Bein’ from Texas, cowboying and bein’ shot at is all I know. Cowboying, after you’ve been throwed and stomped a few times, kind of loses its appeal.”
“I’ll be riding out tomorrow,” said Nathan, “and it may be a long trail. With my Daddy’s dying breath, he asked me to pay a blood debt, and I swore on his grave I would. If it’s the last thing I ever do, I’ll do it.”
Nathan stayed the night, treasuring the short time he would remain with the McQueens
. Early the next morning, the first day of 1867, Powers and Grago arrived in a buckboard. Nathan and McQueen greeted them from the front porch.
“I suppose you’ve come for Silver,” said McQueen. “He’s almost bearable, once you get used to him.”
“He does take some getting used to,” Powers said. “We don’t dare leave him here too long, sleeping late and taking his meals in bed. He’d take it for a habit, and God knows, we’d never break him of it.”
Powers and Grago stayed for breakfast, and it became a time Nathan Stone would long remember. When Powers and Grago declared it was time to return to town, Nathan decided to ride with them. While they helped Silver to a pallet of blankets in the buckboard, Nathan said his good-byes to the McQueens.
“Nathan,” said McQueen, “if you’re ever again in New Orleans, remember that you have friends here.”
“I will,” Nathan promised. “It’s been my pleasure and privilege, and I just wish ... it could be ending ... another way.”
“I’ll tend Eulie’s grave,” said Bess, taking his big hand in hers. “Do ride carefully, Nathan, and you’re always welcome here.”
Nathan followed the buckboard, Cotton Blossom trotting behind the pack horse. Nathan had given McQueen Eulie’s horse and saddle. Reaching the big horse barn, Nathan paused at Eulie’s grave. Cotton Blossom regarded Nathan with mournful eyes, and if dogs could have wept, Nathan believed the hound would have done so. Nathan removed his hat, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt.
“He paid, Eulie,” Nathan said softly, “but not nearly enough. He could have died a thousand times without being worthy of you ..”
Nathan rode away, Cotton Blossom following, and they soon caught up to the buckboard. Nathan followed as far as the St. Charles Hotel, where Silver would recover. Nathan would have ridden away, but Silver stopped him.
“I’ve asked Powers and Grago to present you with something to help you to remember us,” said Silver, “and as you ride into new territory, it could be of some help to you.”
Captain Powers handed Nathan a small white box, and inside it was a gold watch and chain.
“Raise the lid,” Silver said.
Nathan did so, and inside the lid was the Great Seal of the United States. Inscribed beneath the seal was a series of numbers.
“Wherever you go,” said Silver, “if you find yourself needing a friend, present this to any Union officer. There’s only two of these in existence. I have the other. If you need me, wire Washington, using the code. I’ll find you. Vaya con Dios.”
Nathan nodded, unable to speak. He shook hands with the three men and rode west along St. Charles. Nathan could have reached Baton Rouge before sundown, but wishing to be alone, he made camp a few miles shy of town. He prepared a meager supper for himself and Cotton Blossom. Perhaps in the morning they could pass through Baton Rouge and have breakfast there. Dousing his fire well before dark, he rolled in his blankets. Not to sleep, but to think. All the way from New Orleans, he had tried to drive Eulie from his mind, but found he could not. Now he invited her in, aware that it was the only way he could live with her memory. Compared to Molly Tremayne, Eulie had been a plain woman, but it was she who dominated Nathan’s thoughts. He tried comparing her to Molly Tremayne, but Molly kept slipping away. Molly had wanted him, but on her own terms. But Eulie? Without question, Eulie had ridden the vengeance trail with him, becoming a wanderer, accepting him for what he was. Suddenly he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that had Eulie lived, she would be with him, not in New Orleans with the McQueens. Eulie had been humble and unselfish, becoming his woman the only way she could. Denied the feast, she had accepted the crumbs. Then, like a divine revelation, it struck him. Despite what he was, knowing what he could never be, Eulie Prater had loved him. Now Eulie would never know that he understood, and he wept and cursed himself by turns.
Nathan slept fitfully, awakening often, and the dawn seemed long in coming. He saddled his black, loaded the packhorse, and he and Cotton Blossom set out for Baton Rouge. Following breakfast in a secluded cafe, Nathan went to a mercantile and bought St. Louis and Memphis newspapers. North of town, beside the river, Nathan dismounted. Allowing the horses to graze, he sat with his back to a pine and went through the newspapers. The Memphis paper yielded more information than he had expected, for it reported another killing in Arkansas, laying it to Cullen Baker. There was a pair of drawings, one of Baker and the other of Tobe Snider. Snider, the paper said, was a deserter from the Union army, and was said to be a member of Baker’s renegades. Nathan studied Snider’s scarred face, committing it to memory. He opened one of his saddlebags, intending to save the newspaper. There was a heavy leather bag, closed with a drawstring. Emptying the contents on the grass, Nathan counted a hundred and twelve double eagles. $2,240! There was also a brief note:
Nathan, Eulie gave me this the night before the race. She said if anything happened to her, you were to have it.
It was signed simply Bess. His last night there, while he slept, she had slipped it into his saddlebag. With the gold of his own, his stake had risen to more than three thousand dollars. Eulie had feared that his saloon gambling would be the death of him, and if she could speak to him now, he knew what she would say:
Stay out of the saloons, Nathan. You have money ...
A little more than sixty miles north of Baton Rouge, Nathan reached a fork in the river where the Red joined the Mississippi.
“We’ll have to cross the Mississippi, Cotton Blossom,” Nathan said. “We can then follow the Red into western Arkansas.”
But the Mississippi was deep and wide. Horses, rider, and dog had to swim, and it seemed they would never touch the sandy bottom, allowing them to wade out on the west bank. Two days later, Nathan passed near Shreveport, and on the third day, followed the Red into southwestern Arkansas.18
After three days of having seen nobody, Nathan gave up and rode north toward Fort Smith. It had been founded in 1817 as a military post and had become an important supply point during the California gold rush. The town was located near the joining of the Arkansas and Poteau Rivers and had become a “jumping-off place” insofar as western migration was concerned. If Baker and his gang were anywhere in Arkansas, the authorities at Fort Smith should know. Nathan had made his camp a day south of Fort Smith and had just started his supper fire when a rider hailed his camp. The man rode a grulla and led a black. A man’s body was tied across the saddle of the led horse.
“Ride in,” Nathan said, “but keep your hands where I can see them.”
The rider reined up a dozen yards away. His grulla’s head was down and the animal seemed near exhaustion. The rider was poorly dressed. His Levi’s were faded and ripped and his once-blue flannel shirt was faded white in places, while his hat brim drooped like the wings of a sickly bird. But pinned to the left pocket of his shirt was a lawman’s star. A Colt rode on his right hip.
“Step down,” said Nathan. “I was about to have supper. You’re welcome to join me.”
“I’d be obliged,” the newcomer said, dismounting. “My hoss is ready to drop. Run out of grub two days ago, in Injun Territory. I’m Deputy U.S. Marshal Russ Lambert, from Fort Smith.”
“I’m Nathan Stone. While I get the grub ready, unsaddle your horses. When they’ve rested and watered, I have some grain in my pack.”
“Much obliged,” said Lambert. “They can use it.”
Nathan already had the iron spider spraddled over the fire and the coffee was beginning to boil. He began slicing thick rashers of bacon into a fire-blackened frying pan. Lambert unsaddled the grulla, and when the animal had rolled, it was almost too weak to get to its feet. When Lambert had removed the body from the black, he unsaddled it. When the horse had rolled, it got to its feet and began grazing with the grulla. Cotton Blossom had been away from camp when Lambert had ridden in. He now regarded the lawman suspiciously.
“That’s Cotton Blossom,” Nathan said. “He’s not very trusting at first.”
“Neit
her am I,” said Lambert. “You live longer. Seein’ as how I rode in with a dead man, I reckon you got a right to know why, and who he is.”
“I admit to bein’ a mite curious,” Nathan said, “but I believe a man who wears a badge has a right to hold back whatever he wants.”
Lambert laughed. “You’re a generous man. The Yeager brothers—Jabbo and Jake—took to thinkin’ of themselves as another Frank and Jesse, and when they robbed a bank near Fort Smith, they went too far. They killed a man. I tracked the varmints into Injun Territory. When they laid for me, I drilled Jabbo. That’s him over there on the ground.”
“Couldn’t you just leave him for the buzzards and coyotes, instead of totin’ him back to Fort Smith?”
“I could,” said Lambert, “but I need the bounty. A U.S. deputy marshal earns fifty dollars a month. With that, he’s got to feed himself and his hoss, and buy ammunition.”
“I reckon the other Yeager rode for his life, then,” Nathan said.
“No,” said Lambert. “He’s been trailing me, waiting for a chance to get even. I ain’t slept for two nights.”
“You’ll sleep tonight,” Nathan said. “Cotton Blossom will warn us if anybody comes near. Tomorrow we’ll ride on to Fort Smith.”
The food was ready. They ate warmed-over beans, fried bacon, hard biscuits, and hot coffee.
“I’d near forgot how good warmed-over beans and bacon is,” said Lambert, “and Lord, there ain’t nothin’ to beat hot coffee.”
“You’re pretty well used up,” Nathan said. “Turn in when you’re ready. I’ll stay up for a while.”
Head on his saddle, Nathan lay awake listening to the horses cropping grass. Cotton Blossom drowsed. Suddenly the hound got to his feet, growling deep in his throat. Nathan lay still, and moving only his right hand, eased his Colt from its holster. The fire had long since gone out, and Lambert lay in deep shadow.
Finally Cotton Blossom lay down and Nathan holstered the Colt. The gunman—if there had been one—had contented himself with scouting their camp. Come first light, Nathan was hunkered starting a breakfast fire when Lambert awoke. The lawman had been so exhausted he had removed only his hat.
The Dawn of Fury Page 27