“Choose the one you want,” he said.
“I have less expensive sets,” the jeweler said discreetly.
“No,” Nathan said, “we’ll go with one of these.”
Mary chose a set, and the rings fit perfectly. She nodded at Nathan.
“An excellent choice,” the jeweler said. “Shall I wrap it?”
“No,” said Nathan. “She’s going to wear the engagement ring now.”
“That will be four hundred dollars,” the jeweler said.
Mary’s eyes went wide, but before she could protest, Nathan was paying for the rings. He slipped the engagement ring on her finger and they left the store.
On February eighth, a courier brought Nathan a message from Joel Netherton, and it was brief. Proposal accepted, it read, and Netherton had signed it.
“Kansas—Pacific’s agreed to try something else I suggested,” he told Mary, “and I’d like to have the marrying done first.”
“I don’t want to rush into it,” she said. “Why don’t we wait?”
“Because I have some money in a bank in Denver,” he said, “and I want you to have a legal right to it.”
“In case you don’t come back alive,” she said.
“Yes, but I didn’t intend to say it like that. I have every intention of coming back alive, but I may be away for a while.”
“So you want to marry before you go. Where are you going?”
He explained his plan to take his men to Fort Dodge, to cut off El Gato’s renegades before they reached the safety of Indian Territory.
“Then we’ll marry before you go,” she said, “because I’m going with you.”
“But I’d rather you were here,” said Nathan. “Dr. Pendleton’s near, and you’d have Eppie to look after you.”
“I might have agreed to that,” she said, “before today, but today I knew you wanted me, and as long as there’s life in me, I’ll never leave you.”
It was a touching moment, and she seemed more beautiful than she’d ever been in the few short months he had known her. He sat down beside her and took her hands in his.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll see Netherton in the morning, and we’ll go find a preacher tomorrow evening.”
“I have approval to try your plan for sixty days,” said Netherton, “and I have been instructed by our board of directors to send you to a studio here that specializes in tintypes. From that, an etching will be made for use in the newspaper. The Kansas—Pacific’s had so much bad publicity as a result of the robberies and killings, they’re planning to release a story that covers some of your activities on behalf of the railroad.”
“I can’t see that bein’ of much help,” said Nathan. “They’d better wait until I’ve had some success.”
He went to the studio and posed for the tintype, thinking no more about it, not knowing until it was too late what a profound effect a newspaper story would have on his life.
Nathan and Mary said their vows in the small church that Eppie attended. Eppie was there, as was Joel Netherton and some of the men who would be going with Nathan to Fort Dodge. Afterward, Nathan spoke to Netherton.
“The men are leaving in the morning,” Nathan said, “taking my horse with them. Mary and me will take the train to Hays. From there to Fort Dodge, I’ll rent a buckboard or we’ll take the military mud wagon from Fort Hays.”
“Do you think it’s wise, taking her with you?” “She insists,” said Nathan. “I’m officially recognized at Fort Dodge, and she’s been there with me before. I reckon you’ve made arrangements with Fort Dodge to have my men fed and quartered?”
“Yes,” Netherton replied. “Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton has cooperated fully. Any telegrams to you or from you have priority.”
On February twelfth, Nathan and Mary took the train to Hays. Cotton Blossom had made up his mind that his first train ride was going to be his last, and Nathan had to lift him bodily into the coach. Finally, resigned to his fate, he cowered on a seat, digging his claws into the fabric every time the train lurched. On February fourteenth, Nathan and Mary were taken by army ambulance to Fort Dodge. Cotton Blossom loped happily along behind.
On February twenty-fifth, the Sunday edition of the Kansas City newspaper featured a story on the Kansas—Pacific and its never-ending struggle with robbers and Indians. The etching accompanied the story. The story attracted widespread interest, especially in Wichita, where Breed bought one at the mercantile. When he returned to Indian Territory, he wasted no time in presenting the newspaper to El Gato.
“Bastardo,” El Gato snarled. “He take my woman!”
“Married up with her, too,” Breed said, laughing. “Says so, there in that newspaper.”
“I will kill him,” El Gato hissed. “I will kill them both. Por Dios, nobody makes the fool of El Gato!”
El Gato had a habit of sending a rider to Wichita, to Abilene, or even Kansas City, with instructions to keep his eyes and ears open. Once a week, usually on Saturday, one of the gang would hang around the saloons and the mercantile at the tent city, beyond Fort Dodge. Occasionally, El Gato even sent a man to Fort Dodge, to look, to listen. Thus it was Vanado who saw Nathan Stone and Mary, the girl who had once belonged to El Gato. Careful not to be seen, Vanado had ridden away, back to Indian Territory. The news he brought kept El Gato awake far into the night, pondering the reason for Nathan Stone being at Fort Dodge. He would kill this dog, but not until he had suffered, had been cut to the heart. He would take from him the treacherous bitch who had run away from him.
On March first, the robbers blew up the Kansas—Pacific track, stopping a westbound train that carried nothing of value. They pistol-whipped the engineer and fireman and then rode away emptyhanded. The trainmen dutifully wired Kansas City and the message was relayed to Nathan Stone at Fort Dodge. From a distance, Vanado watched the fort through El Gato’s spyglass. He grunted in satisfaction as Nathan Stone and eleven other riders emerged from the fort. These men were at Fort Dodge for a purpose, and El Gato’s suspicions had been confirmed. Vanado returned the spyglass to his saddlebag and rode toward the fort. El Gato wished to know where the treacherous woman was quartered ...
“Damn it,” Nick Klady grumbled, after Nathan and his companions had ridden for miles along the northern edge of Indian Territory, “it’s like the varmints want us gallopin’ around out here, gettin’ nowhere. They’re playin’ cat-and-mouse with us.”
“They’re dead serious,” Nathan said. “They didn’t blow up the track, stop that train, and ride away emptyhanded for nothing. I’ve had a run-in with El Gato and his bunch before, and most of them would recognize me, given the chance. I reckon I’ve been seen at the fort. El Gato just stirred up some smoke, and now that we’ve come looking for the fire, he knows why we’re here. We just lost our edge, whatever we had.”
“Meanin’ that from now on, he’ll be expecting us to head him off before he can reach Indian Territory,” said Logan Beckwith. “Hell, they can ride all night and get around us in the dark. They can sneak into Indian Territory over a stretch of near three hundred miles.”
“I’ve never seen such a slippery bastard,” Chad Blake said. “At every turn, he knows what we’re doing. Amigos, we done hired ourselves out for a job that can’t be done.”
Most of the others agreed with him, leaving Nathan in a quandary. He had no answers for them, none for Joel Netherton, none for himself. He couldn’t quit, however, and he spoke to them with a conviction that he did not, could not, feel. He began slowly, trying to buy himself some time, and even as he spoke, inspiration came to him.
“There’s still something we haven’t tried, and I’m ashamed of myself for not having thought of it sooner. We’re going back to Fort Dodge and I’m going to be on that telegraph key for a while. When I talk to you again—maybe tonight—I expect to have the kind of edge we’ve needed all along.”
Reaching Fort Dodge, he dismissed the men and went directly to Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton’s office.
&
nbsp; “Sir,” he said, “if I’m not asking too much, I’d like the use of the telegraph for a while. Perhaps as long as two hours. I know the code, and I can send much faster than I can write and have it sent.”
“Permission granted,” Hatton said.
Nathan made initial contact, and after relaying a prearranged code, was put directly on a line to Joel Netherton. An hour and fifteen minutes later, Nathan signed off and again spoke to Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton.
“The response may be pretty long. I’ll just wait and receive it.”
The officer nodded and Nathan settled down to wait. It took Netherton less than an hour to respond, and not quite two minutes for Nathan to receive the message and acknowledge it. Brief, it said: Both proposals acceptable. Proceed. Joel Netherton had signed off with his code.
“I’m obliged, sir,” Nathan said to Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton.
Nathan reached the cabin he shared with Mary, only to find she and Cotton Blossom were gone. He waited impatiently for almost an hour, until she came in, Cotton Blossom at her heels. She quickly noted his mood.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t sure when you’d be back. I’ve been to the store for some thread.”
“I wish you wouldn’t go out like this when I’m gone. El Gato knows I’m here, and he knows why. Whoever saw me probably saw you too.”
“But how ...”
“El Gato likely has men slip into the fort to look and listen. All of them, except for Dade Withers, would recognize you and me.”
“Oh, God,” she cried, “now they’ll find a way to escape you and your men here.”
“They’ve already done that, because our element of surprise is gone,” Nathan said, “but I’ve just relayed a new plan to Netherton and had it approved. It will give us the edge we should have had from the start. By striking as late in the day as they could, the outlaws have always used the dark for cover, splitting up and disappearing into Indian Territory. But suppose we had the daylight to ride them down, giving them no chance to rest?”
“You could pin them down,” she said, “but how do you manage that? Darkness comes at almost the same time every day.”
“We can’t change the time the night comes,” Nathan replied, “but we can sure as hell change the railroad schedule, forcing El Gato and his owlhoots to stop the train early in the morning instead of the middle of the day. As of now, all Kansas—Pacific trains bound for Hays leave at eight o‘clock in the morning. The railroad counts on forty miles an hour, including the water stops. It’s near two hundred and sixty miles from Kansas City to Hays, and that figures out to a little over six hours. The Kansas—Pacific has agreed to change the schedule, having the trains leave at four o’clock in the morning instead of eight. If the trains are on time, they’ll be arriving in Hays a few minutes after ten o‘clock, instead of sometime after two. That means El Gato will have to stop the train no later than nine o’clock. It also means there’ll be nine to ten hours of daylight, and while El Gato and his bunch can run, they won’t be able to hide.”
“You’re counting on them riding away to the south. Suppose they don’t?”
“They’ll have to,” said Nathan, “because the guards from the train will be pursuing them. Each of the guards riding the train will have two horses. They can change horses often, not allowing the outlaws or their mounts to so much as stop for water. With nine to ten hours of daylight ahead of them, El Gato and his renegades won’t be able to escape us.”
“They can still split up.”
“Then so can we,” Nathan said. “My outfit can match them man for man, and so can the other force that will pursue them from the train.”
“Oh, I hope it works out as you have it planned,” Mary said. “I’m just so tired of waiting, worrying, and wondering.”
The change in the train schedules had a profound effect on the robbers for a while. They finally struck again on March fourth, and to the surprise of everybody, they stopped the train before it reached Abilene. The guards from the train pursued the outlaws south, toward Wichita, only to have the wily El Gato lay an ambush in which three of the railroad guards were wounded. Far to the west—a hundred and seventy miles—Nathan and his men were unable to help because of the distance.
Due to a lack of graze, livestock at Fort Dodge had to be grained, and on days when the weather permitted, a soldier escort was provided for those who had the time to graze their horses along the river. Mary’s horse and Nathan’s packhorse had been left at Eppie Bolivar’s, but Mary, tired of the confines of the fort, often walked along the river while the horses grazed. It was a custom that El Gato’s men were quick to discover, but Mary Stone was there only on the days when Nathan was away. That suited El Gato perfectly, for if he took the woman, would Nathan Stone not follow?
In Kansas City, Joel Netherton was trapped in the office of the Kansas—Pacific’s board of directors. Combs and Isaacs had already raked him over the coals. Now it was Bolton’s turn.
“Mr. Netherton,” Bolton said, repeating the argument Netherton had heard twice, “it was our impression that this gunman, Nathan Stone, is a man who gets things done. We allowed him two months. Today is March eighth, so one of those months is gone. All we have to show for it is a pair of train holdups, a lost payroll, and three wounded men for whom we’ve paid medical expenses. Who are these outlaws, for God’s sake? Do they walk on water?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Netherton shortly.
There was more, but Netherton withstood it. Finally he escaped, and when he returned to his office, there was a telegram from Nathan Stone. He read it, then read it again. Stone was coming to Kansas City on Monday, March eleventh. But why? There was a kind of finality to the message, as though Nathan had stepped across some line that only he could see.
“But why must you go to Kansas City?” Mary asked. “Can’t you work everything out over the telegraph, as you’ve been doing?”
“Not this time, Mary,” said Nathan. “I’ll have some answers by the time I return. I’m riding to Hays on Monday, and I’ll take the train from there.”
Hays, Kansas. March 11, 1872.
Nathan left his horse at the livery in Hays and took a room for the night in a boardinghouse where he had stayed before. The train would return to Kansas City at four o’clock in the morning. Nathan avoided the saloons, the newspaper office, and Donaldson at the Kansas—Pacific dispatch office. He ate a lonely supper and returned to his room. He shucked his hat and boots, and hung his pistol belt on the brass bedpost. He then stretched out on the bed and began sorting out his thoughts. Reaching up, he took the gunbelt, and from the holsters he removed the twin Colts. He border-shifted the weapons from hand to hand, testing their balance, feeling them come alive. There was a tingling in the tips of his fingers and a similar one crept up his spine, as though he had been long dead and life were being restored. Now he knew, with total clarity, why he was going to see Joel Netherton and what he intended to do.
Nathan thought next of Mary, of when he had first seen her, and that snowy night in January when he had returned for her. Had he known her only thirteen months? It seemed much longer. As he thought of her becoming part of his life, it was as though his mind’s eye were seeing them both from some higher plane. Like a bolt from the blue came the realization of what had happened to him and why. It had started when Eulie Prater had been killed. The flames of guilt had crackled higher with Lacy Mayfield’s death, and finally, after Viola Hayden’s terrible act of vengeance, he had been consumed. From the ashes had risen a new Nathan Stone: slow to anger, timid, maybe a little afraid. His mind’s eye watched this new Nathan prance around for months, seeking to find the last of seven killers, and, finding him, failing to go after him with the same swift justice he had meted out to the others.
He, Nathan Stone, had surrounded himself with fighting men, supposedly to bring El Gato and his outlaws to justice on behalf of the railroad. In so doing, he would have been able to get to Dade Withers without singlehandedl
y facing El Gato’s entire gang. He could even absolve the new Nathan of some of the blame by claiming that he had only yielded to Mary’s fears for his life. But the truth of it was, he had fallen victim to his guilt, trying to make it up to her for having shortchanged all the others. Eulie, who at thirty-five had never had a man. Lacy, barely eighteen, who had never had a home; and Viola, whose life had been destroyed over one of the old Nathan’s gambling debts. He lived by the gun and he would die by it, and by casting their lot with his, hadn’t Eulie, Lacy, and Viola done the same? Life was short, and a man rarely had time to pay for his own mistakes. For these revelations and admissions, Nathan Stone felt a certain kind of peace. He returned the Colts to their holsters and slept soundly until time to board the train for Kansas City.
Chapter 37
It was an unseasonably warm day for March. Mary Stone walked beside the river and Cotton Blossom followed. Some of the officers’ wives owned horses and were taking advantage of the favorable weather to graze the animals. The soldier assigned escort duty dozed beneath a tree. A stranger leading a horse didn’t seem threatening until he came close enough to Mary to silence and subdue her with an arm around her throat. When she struggled, he clubbed her with the barrel of his pistol. Cotton Blossom lunged at him, but he swung the pistol again. It struck the dog a glancing blow to the head, stunning him. The stranger holstered his weapon, slung Mary across his horse belly down, mounted, and rode upriver. Several women had seen what had happened and were shouting. The private on escort duty scrambled to his feet and left on the run to alarm the fort. Cotton Blossom got up, unsteady on his feet, and set off after the distant horseman. By the time Lieutenant-Colonel Hatton got word of the abduction, the horseman and Mary were long gone. It was Hatton who eventually found U. S. Marshal Summerfield in the post barbershop having his hair cut.
The Dawn of Fury Page 51