by R. B. Conroy
Stanton stopped pacing and looked directly at the wily bandit. “Hmmm…good, good. Anything else?”
“Sí. I had a surprise visitor a little while ago.”
Stanton looked puzzled.
“Señor Johnson stopped by my room and said when we come up with a plan he would like to help us. He said he know the area very well and will be a big help.”
“Yes…Buck asked me about that yesterday. I told him to talk to you. What did you decide?”
“I said okay. Then I told him about our plan and ask him if he can help us find a good place to kill him.”
“What did he say?” Stanton was acting somewhat disinterested, but in actuality, he was very glad that Johnson had brought the idea up to him. He didn’t trust Delgado. The thought of having Johnson along suited him just fine.
Paco continued. “Señor Johnson thought for a minute and then he said yes. He say there is a secret trail behind the compound that leads to a clump of trees next to the stream. The trail to the vineyard goes right through those trees. He say it would be a perfect place to take Stoudenmire out. After we kill him, we can take the body to Señor Johnson’s cabin in the woods until the smoke clears. He say nobody knows where the cabin is.”
“Hmmm...good plan. And yes, even I don’t even know where the hell that cabin is. He’s real closed mouth about it.”
“You and the boys will be at the saloon having a good time with the whores. Nobody will suspect you.” A sly grin broke out on the killer’s pocked face.
Stanton grinned. “And after the killing of Stoudenmire, I’ll put Sheriff Cook on the case. He’ll make sure that none of us are implicated. And be damned sure you get the job done,” Stanton barked. “This Stoudenmire fella is one tough SOB.”
“You insult me, señor! If I say the man will be keeled, he will be keeled.” An angry Paco glared at Stanton.
“All right, all right,” Stanton murmured.
Paco’s glare subsided. “Me and the boys are getting tired of sitting around here doing nothing. We are going into town for a drink.”
“Okay, but be careful. We don’t want any trouble. We’ve got a job to do.”
“There will be no trouble, señor. We just a little thirsty, that’s all.”
“If you will excuse me, Paco, I have some work to do.” George dropped back in his chair and fingered through a stack of papers.
“Good day, señor,” Paco said.
“Goodbye and no trouble,” George groused.
Paco nodded and hurried out the door to gather up his men for their foray into town.
- - - - -
“Look over there, Cliff.” Jon nodded toward the front of the saloon as they rode into town.
“I think we got some visitors at the Dead End,” Cliff replied. “Never seen those ponies before.”
“They’re pretty colorful all right, what with all those shiny sequins on the saddles and bright blankets. Looks like south of the border ponies to me,” Jon said, brow furrowed. “Paco’s in town.”
“Looks like it.”
I’m kinda thirsty—how about you?” Jon asked.
“Yeah, I could use a drink.”
“I’d like to look these boys over a little bit.” Jon reined Babe over to the hitching post in front of the saloon. The two men quickly dismounted, tied down and hopped up on the boardwalk. The batwing doors swung open as they walked into the rowdy saloon. It was getting on toward evening, and the faro tables and blackjack games were at full throttle. A smile covered the face of the red-vested piano player as he pounded on the ivory keys. Lively music filled the air.
Jon saw Paco’s white sombrero at the end of the bar; his men were spread out next to him. His pulse quickened as he and Cliff walked slowly across the room. He could feel his anger growing as he approached the end of the bar and slid in next to Delgado.
“Usual?” Jake asked.
“Sounds good,” Jon said as he and Cliff leaned against the bar. Busy drinking and laughing, Delgado and his men didn’t notice their arrival.
“Howdy, boys!” Jon barked over the music.
Paco spun around, his hand on his six gun. The smile fell slowly from his face as he looked up at Jon. He stared hard. His wide, pocked face was dark, his eyes black and menacing. Strands of deep black hair hung loosely on his forehead atop his broad, muscular shoulders.
“Jon Stoudenmire,” Jon barked as he reached forward for a shake.
The corner of Paco’s wide mouth turned up in an ugly grin; his hand fell off of his six gun. “Paco Delgado. Pleasure to meet you, señor,” he replied as the two men shook.
“Set these fellas up,” Jon shouted at Jake. The bartender hurried over; the tequila splashed into their glasses.
“Thank you, señor,” Paco replied. “Mi amigo Pedro tell me all about you.” Paco smiled as he turned and looked down the bar at Pedro. Pedro smiled nervously.
“Is that right?” Jon replied calmly.
“Yes, he tell me that you are one bad hombre, that you shoot two men dead in El Cabrera. We came to visit our friend Pedro here for a couple of days, then we be on our way. We very friendly, we are not looking for any trouble, are we boys?” He looked down the line as the other men shook their heads.
Jon grinned at the nasty varmint and raised his glass of whiskey. “That’s good, Paco, ‘cause we don’t like troublemakers around here. Not one damned bit!” Jon downed his shot and set it on the bar. He glanced over at Cliff and tipped his head toward the door.
“Have a good day, gentlemen,” he said as he and Cliff pushed back from the bar and ambled toward the door.
Surprised by the sudden departure, Paco and his men wheeled around to watch them leave. “He big!” Jon heard one of the men exclaim as he and Cliff pushed through the swinging doors.
Cliff smiled at Jon. “He’s sure an ugly varmint.”
“Yeah, he sure enough is.”
“Bet ya wanted to let ‘im have it.”
“Yep, I wanted to blow ‘im away in the worst way, but this isn’t the time. We gotta tie him to Stanton. Right now we can’t do that—he hasn’t done anything. We have to wait til Stanton plays his cards, and then I’ll deal with that killer. I just wanted to get in his face a little bit, let ‘im know I’m around.” Jon grinned.
“I think ya got his attention.”
“Hope so,” Jon replied. “I’m headin’ down to the room to wash up. How ‘bout dinner later on?”
“Okay, but first I gotta take some ore to the assayer’s office and get a haircut. I’ll give ya a knock when I’m finished.”
Jon nodded as he turned and headed down the dirt street toward Callahan’s. As he approached the boardinghouse, his heart was heavy. Thoughts of Maggie’s awful beating flooded through his mind—the screams, the pain, the terror in her eyes. It angered Jon. She’d never been the same since that awful night; she seldom came out of her room. On the few occasions she did come out, that big smile was gone from her face.
Jon hopped up on the boardwalk and peered through the smoked glass windows on the door. The front desk was vacant. Jon pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Unexpectedly, the door to Maggie’s room opened. Maggie stepped out toward the front desk; she winced when she saw Jon. Her eyes darted away. She composed herself and looked back at him. “Why, uh…hello, Jon,” she said nervously.
“Afternoon, Maggie.” Jon watched as she fidgeted nervously with some keys on the counter. She looked lovely as usual. Her long brown hair fell over her bare shoulders; her pink calico dress fit snugly, accentuating her well-formed bosom. Gold earrings dangled from her ears. Her gorgeous brown eyes glanced toward him as he started toward the stairs.
“Jon,” she said quietly.
Jon turned. “Yes, Maggie?”
“Got a minute?”
“Sure do.” Jon stepped over and laid his hands on the counter.
“How are you, Jon?” She smiled hesitantly.
“Just fine, thank you. And you?”
&
nbsp; “Oh…I’m okay, I guess.”
“Don’t sound too sure.”
“Well it’s…uh, been a little rough for me since that, uh…”
“I know,” said Jon. “It’s okay.”
She looked directly at Jon; their eyes met. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you, Jon.”
Jon looked intently at her.
“I’ve really been struggling lately. I’ve been having a tough time.”
“I’ll bet,” Jon replied. “I’ve missed seein’ those nice smiles when I come and go.”
“I’m sorry, I’ve just been kind of staying to myself lately. Oh, friends stop over once in a while, but I haven’t been out much.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I…guess I…uh, never thought anything like that could ever happen to me. I thought I could take care of myself out here in this rough ole west, but I’d never met a man like George Stanton before.” Her eyes started to well up. “Thank God you came along that night, Jon, or I don’t know what would have happened.” The tears began to stream down her face. She slid her hand in the bodice of her dress, pulled out a hanky and dabbed the tears away.
Jon frowned; his heart ached for her.
“I’m leaving, Jon. I’m getting on the stage tomorrow and going back to Los Angeles to live with my sister. My friend Katie’s going to buy the business. There’s nothing here for me anymore. I should have never taken up with that man. I should have known better. But a girl gets lonely, and he was kind to me and bought me fancy clothes and all. I guess like an idiot I fell for it. I made an awful—”
Jon interrupted. “We all do things we’re sorry for, Maggie. Please don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault.” Jon was crestfallen, shocked by her decision to leave town.
Maggie smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Jon. It’s just such a shame. I loved it here. I loved running this little boardinghouse. For once in my life, I owned something. It was all mine, and I was so proud of myself. But then he came along. Now all I can think about is the pain of that buggy whip ripping into my back, his fists bashing my arms.” She threw her hands up to her face and began sobbing. Jon moved closer and gently laid his hands on her shoulders.
“It’s okay, Maggie,” Jon said softly. “That will never happen again.”
She looked longingly at the muscular gunman. “You’re so brave. I just don’t know how to thank you for what you did that night.” Her red eyes looked directly at Jon. “I’ve never met a man like you before, Jon—so strong, so brave.” She hesitated and then said very softly, “and so sensitive and caring.” She laid her shaking hand on his and squeezed it gently. “You stir feelings inside of me I’ve never felt before!” Trembling, her eyes darted up and down Jon’s face searching for signs of a reaction.
But Jon was silent; a nervous smile was all she saw. Embarrassed, she quickly looked away and jerked her hand back. “Why is it every time I’m around you, I make a damn fool of myself, Jon? I’m so sorry.”
“You’re no fool, Maggie. You’re a wonderful girl. You’ve been through a hell of a lot. You got nothin’ to be ashamed of.” He smiled tenderly.
“That’s one lucky girl down Arizona way. She oughta get down on her hands and knees and thank the heavens above. I envy her.” A distraught and red-faced Maggie dropped the keys in a drawer and turned to leave.
“Maggie,” Jon said quickly. She stopped, her back to him.
Jon paused as he looked at the red welts still visible on her back. He spoke softly. “I don’t know if what I’m gonna say will matter or not, but I don’t think less of you, Maggie, not one little bit. You were just followin’ your heart. There’s no sin in that.”
She turned toward him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’ll never forget you, Jon!” She reached up, kissed his cheek and then quickly ducked in her room. The door clicked shut.
Jon stood staring at the closed door, his heart pounding. His arms dropped to his side as he turned and walked toward the stairs. A strong feeling of melancholy filled him as he mounted the final step and hurried down the hall. He pulled out his room key and stuck it in the lock. The door fell open. He walked into the room and tossed the key on the end table. That lousy son-of-a-bitch, he thought as he leaned down and stuck his hands in the pan of water next to the bed and splashed his face. He dabbed his face dry and angrily tossed the towel on the floor. “He’s a dead man,” Jon whispered as he dropped on the bed.
- - - - -
The town was busy as Jon and Cliff headed for the Crown.
“Let’s cross here,” Jon said as the two men hopped down on the street.
“Over there, Jon.” Cliff nodded toward the other side of the road.
Jon grinned. “Looks like our fine Sheriff Cook and Councilman Zollars are headin’ down to the Crown. Let’s say hi.”
The two men hurried over and stepped up on the boardwalk in front of Cook and Zollars as they approached the eatery.
“Evenin’, Sheriff. Evenin’, Bill.” Jon reached forward; the men quickly shook. “Got a minute, Sheriff?” Jon asked.
“Well, Bill and I are having our weekly meeting with the other councilmen. I really must—”
Jon interrupted. “Won’t take long.”
Cook grimaced and stood still.
“I’ll go on in,” Zollars said. “Nice seeing you, fellas.” He tipped his hat to Jon and Cliff.
“Nice seein’ ya, Bill,” Jon said as the councilman hurried inside.
“Go ahead, Jon. I ain’t got all night,” Cook barked.
“Seems like we got some visitors in town.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. It seems one of George’s men is friends with Paco Delgado. He’s in town and stayin’ down at Stanton’s compound. Cliff and I ran into him yesterday at the Dead End, and he says he’s just visiting his old friend Pedro, but I know better.”
“Well, I don’t. A man has a right to visit whomever he likes. That’s none of my affair,” the agitated sheriff replied. “Now, if that’s all you want, I’ve got to be going.” He turned for the door.
Jon grabbed his arm firmly. “Listen close, Cook. I hear Delgado’s one of the nastiest varmints you’ll ever see in your tormented little life. Folks tell me he likes to torture people and slit throats and things like that. I hear he’s murdered dozens of men. He’s a long way from the border, and he brought four men with him. He’s not here visiting anybody—he’s here to take me out, Sheriff, and you know it.”
“You can’t prove that.”
Jon’s eyes narrowed; he squeezed harder. “It’s gonna get ugly around here real quick, Cook. A whole lot of people could die. There’s gonna be a bloodbath like you’ve never seen. And you better hope and pray Stanton comes out on top. ‘Cause if he doesn’t, I’m personally coming after you, Cook—you can count on it.”
Cook pulled away. “Is that a threat, Jon?”
“Take it however you want. Just remember, if Stanton goes down, you better start lookin’ over your shoulder. Your crooked little world is about to blow apart, Sheriff.”
Red-faced, Cook jerked loose from Jon’s firm grip and hurried into the restaurant.
“I just lost my appetite, Cliff. Let’s go to the Dead End and get a drink,” Jon said as he stared angrily at the departing Cook.
“Sounds good, Jon. I’ll get the first round.”
Chapter 21
Jon stretched his arms to the ceiling as he sat up in bed late the next day. Shading his eyes from the late afternoon sun, he leaned across the bed and looked down at the hectic street scene below. Derby hats and bonnets bobbed as the folks went about their daily routines. A horse whinnied as a frustrated driver cracked his whip above the head of the anxious steed. A little boy in suspenders ran out of the drugstore waving a bag of jelly beans above his head, his blond hair blowing in the breeze. His parents beamed in delight.
After another quick stretch, Jon tossed his covers back, sat on the edge of the bed, and ran his fingers through his thick black hair as he stared at the wooden floor.
>
There was a hard knock on the door. Jon went for his gun.
“It’s Cliff, Jon. Open up.”
Jon stumbled over to the door, turned the lock and pushed it open. Cliff hurried in.
“Afternoon, bright eyes,” Cliff joked.
“Afternoon, cus,” Jon replied. “How late did you keep me out last night?”
“We played stud all night, my friend. Afterward, we grabbed a bite. Then I rode on out to the camps, and you wandered back to your room. How ya feelin’? You don’t look too good.”
“Not worth a damn, thank you.” Jon frowned. “How ‘bout you?”
“I’m rarin’ to go!”
“You make me sick.” Jon shook his head.
“You all right? You look a little down.”
“Yeah. I just been thinkin’ a little, I guess,” Jon replied.
“About the girl back in Arizona?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“About that promise?”
Jon grimaced. “I told her never again. And now here I am right in the middle of somethin’. I could have ridden on down the road to Vinegar Bend, but I didn’t.” Jon wrung his hands; his eyes went to the floor. “I guess I love the fight too much to give it up. It kind of bothers me.”
Cliff laid his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Things are gettin’ ugly around here, Jon. I wouldn’t blame ya if you just rode on outta here.”
“There’s one problem with that, partner,” Jon sighed.
Cliff’s eyes widened.
“I got nowhere to go. That snake Stanton’s got his foot planted right in the middle of that wine country. Can’t go there—he’d just be waitin’ on me. I guess I’m just gonna have to kill that bastard right here,” Jon growled.
Cliff looked at his tough friend. “What about Elizabeth?”
“Well, I ain’t no good to her dead, and the best way to stay alive is to hit these varmints head on.” He paused. “Sorry for the whining, Cliff.”