by Robert Knott
“No one looking at us,” I said.
After continued perusal Virgil shook his head.
“Don’t see ’em.”
“No,” I said. “Don’t, either.”
Virgil slid his revolver back into its holster and I did the same. Then we walked slowly toward the bar, all the while keeping a sharp eye out for the three, but as we strolled and neared the bar we saw no sign of them.
We stood toward the right end of the bar, and within a short amount of time the bartender came walking over.
“Evening, gents,” he said.
He looked like he might be the brother of the bartender across the way at the State Room, except he was bigger and not as heavy.
Virgil showed his badge and I turned my back to the bar so as to keep an eye on the room.
“We are marshals,” Virgil said, “and we are looking for three men. We know they have been in the hotel as late as this afternoon. We just had a conversation with Mr. Havenhurst and Tony across the way. Havenhurst is just outside the door here. Havenhurst and Tony have shared with us how the whores are lined up for your guests. So now we need a few answers to a few questions.”
The big man looked back and forth between Virgil and me, and before Virgil could continue, he said, “I know exactly who you are talking about.”
I turned and looked to him.
“And they were liquored up,” he said. “Two dark-headed guys with scraggly beards and hair and a bigger guy, bald, strong-looking.”
Virgil glanced to me.
“That’s them,” he said.
“You can find them at the bathhouse. The far end bathhouse, number sixty-three. It’s a place where some of the girls go with the guests. It’s an option, instead of the rooms. They paid for three gals, and bathhouse sixty-three . . . They had the money.”
We wasted no time, and with Havenhurst leading the way we quickly made our way to the bathhouses.
Bathhouse 63 was situated just off the wide, tree-lined creek behind the hotel. The hot waters from the hot springs offered up rising vapors that gave the whole setting a mysterious foggy atmosphere.
“What is on the far side of the bathhouse?” Virgil said. “The side we can’t see?”
“On the opposite side of the structure there is an opening with a deck. The hot waters follow a channel to a pool in front of each bathhouse. They are all situated the same way. Sixty-three is no exception.”
“Thank you, Mr. Havenhurst,” Virgil said.
“What would you like me to do?” he said.
“Nothing you can do right now,” Virgil said. “You should go back inside and wait. And make sure no one comes this way. Later, there might be some need to clean up a bit, but we won’t know what is what until we have a chance to get in there and assess the situation.”
37
There was a path lit by gaslights on poles that led down to bathhouse 63 and there was a door to the bathhouse, but it was closed. Virgil and I skirted off the path and moved up to the building from the dark. As we neared we could see light and could hear voices coming from within. The window that faced us was small and covered with a curtain. There was a window in the door, but it, too, was covered with a curtain.
“Let’s go off that way a ways,” Virgil said quietly, “and come back from the dark on the far side where we have a better idea of what is what.”
We moved off in the dark and crossed the steaming creek, down some into the woods, then came back to where we had the bathhouse in view. Sure enough, we knew right away we had the men we were after when we saw Ravenscroft.
He was sitting in a pool of steaming hot water with a woman under his arm. Behind him on the side of the pool we could see a pair of holstered pistols with the bullet belt wrapped around them.
The bathhouse behind was without a wall on this side that faced us, so we could see the other two men, also with women.
One couple was sitting up in a bed and the other twosome was lounging on pillows on the floor next to the bed, and everyone was naked.
Looking at six naked people in this open-sided bathhouse with the steam rising up conjured thoughts of what a scene might have looked like in the empire of Rome.
“What do you want to do,” I said quietly.
Virgil thought for a moment.
“If by chance one or some of them can get on the run, I think one of us needs to be on the path side that heads back to the hotel.”
I nodded.
“Then,” he said, “we let them know they are surrounded and see who feels like throwing their hands up.”
“’Bout it,” I said.
“I’ll go back around to the path,” Virgil said. “You come in from this side. Once I get up to the path and get ready I will let them know we have them corralled. You can then voice from this side to surrender and let’s see what they do.”
“Okay,” I said.
Virgil looked to me. I could barely see him but could see enough to see him nod a bit.
“All right, then,” he said. “Here we go.”
Virgil moved off, backing up into the woods, then moving upstream a ways, then crossed the creek. From where I was nested I could see him clearly as he came up the back of the creek and into the lighted path that led back up to the hotel.
I pulled my Colt and started to ease a bit closer toward the bathhouse and found a good-sided tree to take cover behind. I was watching the three men intently as I waited on Virgil’s voice to interrupt their playtime. I wondered what they would do. I figured they’d react just like Skillman, Wythe, and Dekalb had reacted in Vadito, that they’d most likely stand and fight, and I knew the answer to that wonderment was a few seconds away, and then I heard Virgil.
“You are surrounded. Give yourselves up.”
The three naked men all went for a gun. The man that was sitting in the pillows was the fastest. He was up and on the move, too.
“Don’t do it,” I shouted. “Don’t move!”
But that did not stop them. The man in the bed took off, naked, with pistol in hand and ran out the door.
“Stop!” Virgil shouted.
Ravenscroft and the other man fired wildly in my direction and the three naked women screamed as they dove for cover.
Ravenscroft was gunning with both of his pistols.
I heard Virgil fire and saw the flash of his Colt and then one of the naked men came falling backward through the door and stumbled, then fell into the pool as Ravenscroft and the other man kept firing blindly in my direction.
I remained behind the tree, out of the line of fire, but could see the men.
Then Ravenscroft took off running into the creek. He was slanting away from me, and as he ran he fired both guns toward me. I took steady aim and squeezed off a shot.
“Arrggg,” he said as he arched his back. “Goddamn.”
But he kept firing and I shot again. This bullet hit him again and spun him around. Then he moved toward me and fired one more time but could not keep his feet under him. He stumbled forward and fell face-first into the foggy creek.
“Stop,” I heard Virgil say.
Then I saw through the rising steam of the creek the flash of the last gunman as he tried to shoot Virgil as he ran in the opposite direction up the creek. Next I saw Virgil’s shot and the man went down.
Virgil and I waited before either of us moved. I could see clearly the two men Virgil had shot, and neither was moving. Virgil and I waited a long time. It was an important time to just wait and make sure the three men who were not interested in returning to prison were in no real condition to do so if in fact they changed their minds.
38
Driggs and his princess ventured away from the Boston House and made their way around Appaloosa, eventually ending up on Vandervoort Avenue. It was a beautiful day as they strolled up the wide street lined with brick buildings.
When they saw Allie and Margie in the window they stopped and watched them as the ladies fitted a dress on a mannequin. Allie looked up and smi
led. Driggs tipped his hat and his princess smiled. Then Allie stepped down from the window display and opened the door.
“What a lovely dress,” the princess said.
“Well, I’m pleased you like it,” Allie said. “It came all the way from Boston.”
“We’ll take it,” Driggs said.
“Oh, honey,” the princess said. “Really?”
Even though it was her money, she was thrilled to know he wanted her to have the dress.
“Well, my gosh,” Allie said. “I’m not even open for business yet.”
He smiled at Allie, a disarming smile.
“Does that matter?” he said.
“Well . . . um,” Allie said. “I guess not.”
“Do you think it will fit?” the princess said.
Margie stepped into the doorway and smiled to the couple. Allie looked back to her.
“They want to buy the dress,” she said with a smile.
“Well,” Margie said, taking over with the assured sass of a salesperson who knows her business, “I suppose we just fit this fabulous dress on this exquisite young woman instead of the not-so-exquisite wooden woman.”
Margie looked to the dress in the window and to the woman.
“We will have to take it in a little,” Margie said. “But that should not be a problem.”
Margie stood back, and with a bow and a sweep of her hand toward the open shop door she said, “After you.”
Driggs and his princess entered Allie’s shop and in a matter of moments his beautiful lady was standing in front of the mirror admiring the low-cut dress. Driggs sat with his hat in his lap in a chair off to the side behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror.
“Actually, it fits pretty well,” Margie said. “Don’t you think, Allie?”
“I do,” she said.
“Do you like it, love?” Driggs said.
She turned from the mirror, nodded, smiled, leaned down, and kissed him on the mouth. It was not just a peck. It was a wet kiss that caused Allie to blush a little.
“I love it,” the princess said.
“Okay, then,” Allie said. “We just need to take it in a little here and there.”
“It should be done soon,” Margie said with a beaming smile. “We are so happy you stopped in.”
“My first customer,” Allie said.
Driggs’s princess stepped behind the dressing screen to change.
“So this is your shop?” Driggs said, looking at Allie.
“It is.”
“You must be Mrs. French?”
“I am.”
“Mr. French is a lucky man,” Driggs said.
“Oh . . . well. I’m a widow, I’m afraid . . . my late husband, Mr. French, passed away many years ago.”
“But she is well looked after,” Margie said with an exuberant nod. “Isn’t that so, Allie?”
Driggs looked Allie up and down a little.
“Well,” he said. “I’m sure she is.”
“He’s quite a man,” Margie said with a grin.
“Well, he’d have to be,” Driggs said.
“And he’s a federal lawman, no less,” Margie said. “A United States Marshal.”
“Well, how about that,” he said.
“Yes,” Allie said with a smile.
“Living here in Appaloosa?”
“We do,” Allie said.
“Marshal Virgil Cole,” Margie said.
“Virgil Cole?” he said. “I think I have heard about him.”
“Yes,” Allie said. “He’s . . . he’s a fine man.”
Margie moved behind the curtain to help Driggs’s lady change dresses, leaving Allie with Driggs.
Driggs stood and moved toward Allie a little.
“So it looks like you will be opening soon?” he said.
“Hopefully this weekend,” she said. “Saturday will be my official opening.”
“How was it that this came to be?” Driggs said. “This dress shop?”
Driggs folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall, looking at Allie.
“Oh, well. I just felt the need to have something of my own,” she said.
“Oh, you have something of your own,” he said.
Allie blushed a little, feeling a bit self-conscious.
“So who owns this building?”
“Oh, well . . . Mr. Vandervoort owns the whole block and most everyone rents from him.”
“Vandervoort?”
“Yes. A wonderful man.”
“Does he live here?” he said. “In Appaloosa?”
“Yes,” she said. “Are you interested in renting, perhaps?”
Driggs moved a bit closer to Allie.
“No,” he said. “Not really. We are just passing through.”
“Oh,” Allie said.
“But one never knows,” Driggs said.
“Well, he’s not hard to find,” Allie said. “He is, however, out of town at the moment.”
“I see,” he said.
“And thank God,” she said.
“Why thank God?” Driggs said.
“Oh, well . . . he might have had a heart attack if he were here,” she said. “Or worse?”
“Why?”
“Oddest thing,” Allie said. “His new bride, perhaps the most gracious woman in all of Appaloosa, I might add, woke up to find a rattlesnake in her bed.”
“My God, is she all right?”
“Yes, thank goodness, she wasn’t bitten. But can you imagine? In bed, of all places?”
“A snake in the bed?” he said.
“A rattlesnake,” she said. “It was on her pillow. Can you imagine?”
“No,” he said. “I can’t imagine.”
39
The three men we shot at the Montezuma bathhouses turned out were in fact Timothy Eckford, Willard Calyer, and Charlie Ravenscroft.
After the shootout, I pulled Ravenscroft from the creek where he had fallen. When I dragged him up on the deck of the steam pool, he moved slightly. He was bleeding profusely from the two bullets he received. My first shot hit him on the side just under his arm and the second was in the chest, but for a moment he breathed some and opened his eyes. He had that frightened expression, that look I’d seen many times before: the countenance of a man who knows he’s dying. Ravenscroft stared at me with a curious look on his face. Then he smiled a little and said, “Everett Hitch.”
“It is, Charlie,” I said to him.
“I’ll be go to hell,” he said, and then he did just that, he went straight to hell, and the incident in the steamy bathhouse ended.
—
We left Montezuma early the following morning and took the train back to Yaqui to collect Skillman and Dobbin and return them to Cibola.
We wasted little time in Yaqui. We remained there only long enough to determine details from the deputies in the sheriff’s office that let us know Sheriff Stringer and his posse had yet to come back with Ed Degraw and that the wire service to Cibola was still inexplicably out of service.
We rode the whole second half of the day with Skillman and Dobbin in tow. We camped that night, broke camp an hour before sunrise, and arrived at the prison the following day just before noon.
As we neared the prison, two guards looked out of a wide opening of a stone building that sat on a rise a few hundred yards before the prison’s entrance. As we got a bit closer they came out to the road to meet us. Virgil moved his lapel and showed his badge. One of the guards, an older, stern-looking man with a gray beard, stood back as if he were leery. The other guard was a barrel-bodied, redheaded fellow carrying a Sharps fifty-caliber. He nodded as he walked closer to us.
“And you are?” he said.
“I’m Marshal Cole. This is Deputy Marshal Hitch. And these fellas here are two of the men who escaped.”
He looked to Skillman and Dobbin, then said, “Welcome back.”
“Telegraph lines working now?” I said.
The younger guard turned to the olde
r guard and the older guard shook his head.
“Don’t think so,” the young guard said. “We haven’t been inside today.”
The older guard came a bit closer and said, “Where did you catch these two?”
Virgil looked to Skillman and Dobbin, then back to me.
“One in Vadito,” I said. “One in Yaqui.”
“And the others?” he said.
“So far, the others were not as lucky as these two here,” I said.
The older man eyed Skillman and Dobbin for a moment.
“Thought you fellas could get away with this?” he said.
Dobbin just glared and Skillman did not look up as the guard moved a bit toward them. He shook his head, then looked to Virgil.
“We can get you to the warden,” he said.
“Sure he’ll be appreciative ’bout this,” the younger guard said. “He’s not in the yard, though. He’s up at his house.”
He pointed to a cluster of buildings on a rise about a quarter of a mile away.
“Need to get these two back inside first,” the older guard said. “No prisoners are allowed near the quarters.”
“That’s what we brought them back for,” I said.
“After you,” Virgil said.
The older guard nodded to the younger.
“Go ahead,” he said.
The young guard moved quickly for a hefty fellow as he opened the gate of a small corral and led out a stocky, short bay horse. He slid his rifle into a scabbard, tightened the cinch, then stepped up easily into the saddle.
“This way,” he said.
The older man watched us for a moment, then moved back toward the building as the big man led us toward the prison. After a moment he slowed and the three of us rode abreast.
“How did you find them?” he said.
Virgil said nothing. Virgil never did say much of anything when it came to answering questions.
“I’m Mickey, by the way, Mickey Dodd.”
“Well, one thing just led to another, Mickey,” I said. “’Bout all I can tell you.”
He nodded, then looked back to Skillman and Dobbin.
“I’ve been working here since the place opened, twelve years ago. Since that time we had just one escape and he was caught the following day, but this . . . well, my God, this is just . . . hell, crazy as all hell is the only thing you can say for it.”