“Yeah, I recognize this poor bastard,” Rufe Gaddis replied without turning to face Jack Pitch or Saul Delmano. Instead, he spoke down to the blank dead face in the dirt, saying, “Dunc, you crazy son of a bitch. You look even worse than the last time I saw you.”
“Whooee,” Jack Pitch said in a hushed whisper, staring at Duncan Grago’s dead hollow eyes, “there’s something about a man stretching hemp that always runs a chill right through me. How’s Newt Grago going to take somebody hanging his brother?”
“I don’t think anybody hung ole Dunc,” Rufe Gaddis said, looking around in the dirt. “There’s only one set of hoofprints. His hands aren’t tied. I got a feeling Dunc hung himself. He always was on the verge of blowing his stack. Looks to me like he finally did it.”
“You might want to tell Newt that,” Saul Delmano said, reaching a hand up to the others, who watched from the cover of rocks and scrub oaks. He waved them in, then looked back down at Rufe Gaddis. “Newt thought a lot of Dunc, crazy bastard that he was. He’s going to go blind, staggering wild over this. I damn near rather leave ole Dunc laying here and not mention it at all.”
“No, we’ve got to take Dunc in and let Newt know about it,” Rufe Gaddis said with a wince. “Let the chips fall where they will, I reckon. Let’s scout around for his horse, and get him up on it. We ain’t taking him in to Newt until after dark. If this was my brother done something like this, I wouldn’t want everybody in camp knowing about it.”
“Damn,” said Saul Delmano, “this is turning into a rough day.”
In the tent, Arno Dunne had directed the twins away from Bill Longley and Mysterious Dave Mather and to the far end of the bar. Like most people, Dunne walked a little lightly around Longley. Evening had started to darken, and with the shooting matches over for the day, the outlaws had converged on the tent to talk about the four gunfights they’d seen and the money they had either won or lost on them. In spite of Arno Dunne cautioning them against it, as soon as Jed and Tim got themselves a mug of beer, they moved down to where Bill Longley stood slightly back from the bar with a thumb hooked in his gun belt, speaking to Duggin and Dave Mather.
They stood back politely until Bill Longley finished what he was saying, then stepping closer, Tim said, “Pardon me for interrupting, but we saw Danny Duggin and wanted to—”
Bill Longley stopped him short, blocking him from joining their private circle with a raised forearm. “Hey, boy, can’t you see we’re talking here?”
Tim Strange’s eyes flared. Seeing it, Danielle cut in, saying to Bill Longley, “It’s all right, Longley, I know these two.”
“But I don’t,” said Longley, “and I can’t stand a person waltzing right in and including themselves.” He looked Tim up and down, then turned his eyes to Jed, giving him the same cold look. “Who are you look-alikes anyway? If it weren’t for those big Colts on your hips, I’d swear you just fell out from behind a plow somewhere.”
“That’s right,” Danielle said quickly, knowing by the look on Tim’s face that the next words out of Longley’s mouth would be all it took to spark a fight between them, “these boys are straight off of a farm over near St. Joe. Let me handle this, Longley,” she said, stepping in between Bill Longley and her brother, Tim. “Look, you two farmhands. I met you along the trail, and we had some coffee together. Don’t go thinking that makes us friends. I’m here on business, my business.” Her eyes cut from Tim to Jed. “When you called my name out in the clearing a while ago, you could have diverted my attention for just a split second and gotten me killed. Didn’t you know that?”
Both twins looked stunned at Danielle’s words, and she hated talking to them that way. But the shock of her gruff demeanor toward them diverted Tim from saying anything to Longley, which was all she wanted. “Danny,” said Jed, “I wouldn’t have done it if I thought it might cause you trouble. You was decent to us back on the trail. I was pleased to see you and just spoke before I thought.”
“Yeah,” said Danielle, reining in her anger somewhat, “that’s the trouble, you didn’t think first. Out here, if you don’t think the first time, it’s usually the last chance you get. Now go on back down there with your friend. And stay the hell away from me.”
Arno Dunne had been watching from his spot down the bar, and seeing Danielle nod toward him, he picked up his mug and moved down among them. “Excuse me, gents,” he said. “I’m Arno Dunne. I couldn’t help but notice that my two men here seemed to have rubbed you the wrong way.”
“Now we’ve got another one crowding in,” Longley said. “I bet I have to start clearing us a place here any minute.” Drinkers scooted farther away along the bar as Longley’s right hand dropped from its perch on his gun belt and rested near his tied-down holster.
Dave Mather allowed himself a muffled laugh, and said to Arno, “We know who you are, Dunne. You’re the flushingest saddle sore Texas ever scraped off its backside. What brings you to our end of the bar?”
Arno Dunne jerked a thumb toward Tim and Jed. “I’ve got a couple of shooters here that I believe stand a chance in the contest. I saw that you seem to be having some cross words with them, and just wanted to remind you that if any iron gets drawn, let’s make sure it happens tomorrow out in the clearing, where we all stand to make some money on it. Once these boys prove themselves, they might be the ones you have to face off with.”
“I draw iron when and where it suits me, Dunne,” said Bill Longley. “You don’t tell me a damn thing.”
“Easy, Bill,” Dunne responded. “I’m just their promoter, you might say. Have you got anybody lined up to shoot against? If not, let’s talk business, and think of the possibilities.”
Danielle seethed, hearing Dunne talk about her brothers this way, knowing he couldn’t care less if they lived or died, and knowing that right here and now there wasn’t a thing she could say about it, except, “Mr. Dunne, if you’re so interested in this contest, why don’t you stick your own name up for tomorrow’s matches? I wasn’t going to enter against anybody, but in your case I’ll gladly make an exception.”
Still stinging from Danielle’s words a moment earlier, Tim said firmly, “Danny Duggin, you’ve made your opinion of me and my brother clear. We don’t need you speaking on our behalf.” He looked at Bill Longley, then Dave Mather. “If anybody wants to call on me or my brother in the morning, we’ll oblige them. You might all be surprised at what a couple of farm boys can do.”
“Twenty dollars on Bill Longley,” a voice called out, the drinkers obviously listening to what was being said and wanting in on the action.
“You’re covered,” another drinker replied.
“Wait just a damn minute,” Arno Dunne called out above the din of the excited crowd. He stilled the drinkers, then turned back to Bill Longley. “I didn’t mean one of them might face you first thing tomorrow. They still have to prove themselves. I meant if all goes well, maybe you and one of them—”
Longley cut him off boldly, saying, “To hell with one of them, and to hell with later on. If these sodbusters are as game as they talk, I’ll face them both at once, come morning, when the sun peeps over the rooster’s ass.”
Arno Dunne felt pressed now, knowing if somebody like Longley killed the twins first thing, he’d have no chance to make any money putting them up against some of these lesser gunmen. “No way,” Arno Dunne said, “not tomorrow leastwise. They’re not ready yet.”
Tim had been listening, barely in control after Longley’s insults and Danny Duggin’s rejection. “I’m ready,” Tim said. “But not two on one. First thing in the morning, I’ll sign up to fight you. I’m not afraid.”
Danielle winced, saying to herself, No, Tim! Think about what you’re getting into! But she was helpless to make her thoughts known. She had to keep silent and wait. Hopefully, she prayed, she would find a way to stop it before the match tomorrow, even it meant facing Bill Longley herself.
“Where’d you say you found him?” Merlin Haas asked Rufe Gaddis. Both
of them looked at the body of Duncan Grago, which Newt Grago had placed on a blanket in the corner of the shack. Newt Grago stood directly over his brother’s corpse, staring down at it, shaking his head slowly in the glow of the lantern clenched tight in his fist.
Rufe Gaddis answered Merlin Haas in a near whisper. “We found him about two miles west of here when we swung wide out of the sun. Looked liked he’d been hanging there most of the day.”
“Who would have done this?” Haas asked. When neither Gaddis nor Grago answered, Haas asked again, thinking they hadn’t heard him. This time when he asked, Newt Grago turned toward him, the lantern’s light causing Newt’s face to look even grimmer.
“Go get yourself a drink, Merlin,” Grago said in a low, controlled voice.
“No thanks, I’m fine,” Haas replied, not getting the message that Grago just wanted him to leave.
“I said, go have a drink, damn it!” Newt repeated, this time his voice rasping like a file on hard metal.
“Oh! Why yes, I believe I will.” Haas backed to the door, took his bowler hat from a peg, and leveled it down onto his forehead with nervous fingers.
“And keep your mouth shut about this,” Newt Grago added. “I mean don’t breathe a word to a soul about it, or I’ll rip your tongue out of your head.”
“No sir, Newt! Not a word,” Haas stammered, “I swear it!” His hand trembled as he opened the door just enough to slip through and disappear into the night.
As soon as Merlin Haas was gone, Rufe Gaddis gave Newt Grago a knowing look, saying quietly, “You see how it happened, don’t you? Dunc did this to himself.”
“Yeah, I see,” Newt murmured in a low, tortured voice.
“I knew you wouldn’t want the word out,” said Gaddis. “That’s why I waited till dark and slipped in by myself. Delmano and the rest are camped a mile out, waiting for me.”
“You did right bringing him in to me this way, Rufe,” said Newt Grago. “He ain’t acted like his old self since he rode in. I reckon prison made a mess out of him.”
“Prison’s rough,” said Gaddis, “but damn.” He shook his head, looking over at the body on the floor. “I can’t imagine ole Dunc doing something like this. He must have really lost his mind.”
Newt stood in silence for a second, then said, “Yes, he did, but he had some help. That snake Danny Duggin he’s been riding with caused this. He’s what pushed Dunc over the edge.”
“Who’s Danny Duggin?” Gaddis asked.
“Some two-bit gunslinger Dunc brought here with him,” Newt hissed. “I’ve got some sneaking suspicions about that bastard.”
Gaddis looked confused. “I don’t get it. How’d this Duggin cause Dunc to do this?”
Newt Grago snapped his eyes onto Gaddis in the flicker of lantern light, saying in a sharp tone, “Never mind how he caused it. But he did, sure as hell. Dunc got his head screwed on wrong some way, and this Danny Duggin took advantage of it.”
“Damn, Newt,” said Gaddis, “I reckon some crazy things have been going on. Why’s this man Duggin still alive if you saw he was causing Dunc trouble?”
“It’s a long story, Rufe. But I’ll tell you something else about Duggin. The first time I laid eyes on him, I suspected him to be the young gunslinger that was shooting everybody up last summer.”
“My God, Newt,” Gaddis said, stunned at the fact that Newt hadn’t killed this Danny Duggin outright.
“I know, Rufe.” Newt rubbed his lowered forehead. “I shoulda killed him right off, but he was a friend of Dunc’s. I didn’t want to make a move till I was dead sure of it. Now, my waiting has cost Dunc his life.”
“Where is this Duggin?” Gaddis asked. “I’ll just go put a bullet into his brain.”
“No, it’s not that easy tonight,” Newt Grago said. “He’s over at Lulu’s with Dave Mather and Bill Longley. You never know who those two will side with.”
“Longley and Mather are here?” Gaddis looked worried all of a sudden and stepped away from the door.
“Yes, both of them are here. Longley heard about the contest and came here saying he was drawing himself a thousand dollars’ worth of blood then moving on.” Newt rubbed his forehead again. “Things ain’t gone quite the way I planned them to. But don’t worry about Longley. He wouldn’t go along with what I had planned for Duggin. So I’ve got four men all set to cut his boots out from under him, soon as he leaves Lulu’s tonight and heads to his bedroll.”
“What do want me and the boys to do? Just tell me, Newt. We’re ready for anything,” Gaddis said.
“Ride in come sunup,” said Newt Grago. “Longley will be dead, Mather too, if he gets in the way. You and the boys will have Danny Duggin all to yourselves. We’ll tell everybody he ambushed Dunc. Then we’ll take our time and kill him good and slow.”
“Sounds good to me, Newt.” Rufe Gaddis backed to the door and opened it a crack, looking out into the darkness, then turned to Grago. “See you first thing in the morning. Me and the boys will all have our mean on.”
Chapter 16
Robber’s Rock, Indian Territory, July 26, 1871
It was in the dark hours of morning when Bill Longley and one of Lulu’s girls left Danielle and Dave Mather in the gambling tent and headed to where Mather and Longley had set up a campsite for themselves. No sooner had Longley and the woman left, than Danielle looked around the tent at the few remaining bleary-eyed drinkers. Arno Dunne and the twins had left over two hours ago. Only three old hardcases stood at the faro table, arguing in a drunken stupor, one of them with an arm looped around one of Lulu’s girls. Lulu herself had retired to a cot in the back corner of the tent, leaving another one of her girls tending bar. Danielle looked at the girl tending bar, seeing she was half asleep as she poured Mather a shot of rye.
“Something’s not right, Dave,” Danielle said suddenly.
Mather gave a drowsy smile, saying, “There’s a lot of things not right, Danny. But who are we to question the workings of the universe?”
“No, Dave, damn it! Listen to me,” Danielle demanded. “That woman who left with Bill Longley. Did you notice how wide awake and sober she was?”
Mather perked up a little, his shot of rye in his hand. “Yes, come to think of it.” He sat his glass down, a look of consternation washing over his face.
Danielle continued, “And how she just seemed to pop up out of nowhere all of a sudden? It was like she’d been biding her time, waiting just for Longley.”
“You’re right, Danny,” Mather said, pushing his glass back with his fingers. He turned quickly to Danielle, but Danielle was already headed out of the tent. Mather hurried, his hand coming up with his pistol. “Longley’s being set up!” he said aloud to himself, swinging the tent fly back with his forearm.
Mather caught up with Danielle a few yards from the tent as rifle fire streaked out of the darkness toward the path Longley and the woman had taken. From the center of fire, Longley’s pistol exploded repeatedly, fighting back. The woman screamed in pain as Mather and Danielle hurried forward, firing at the muzzle flashes, trying to give Longley some cover fire. Two of the rifles streaked lead toward them, Danielle diving in one direction and Mather in the other. But they only stayed down for a second, then both of them came up in a crouch, firing and moving forward.
“Bill!” Dave Mather called out to Longley through the roaring gunfire. “Are you all right in there?”
Longley’s only reply was three shots from his Colt, one of them causing a loud whimper followed by the sound of breaking brush as one of the riflemen toppled down from his perch a few feet above the clearing.
“Good, he’s holding his own,” Mather said to Danielle while rifle fire flashed like heat lightning. “I’m going around to the right. You circle left. Don’t fire on me if you can help it.”
Danielle and Mather moved quickly, their pistols blazing their way in the darkness. Of the three remaining riflemen, only two were firing, their shots centered on Bill Longley. Danielle held her fire f
or a second, hearing the sound of running boots breaking through the brush toward her. Seeing the outline of a man in the pale moonlight, she stood straight up in his path and fired one well-placed round into his chest. He grunted, rolling and sliding to a halt almost at her feet. She fired another shot into him for safety’s sake, then crouched back down and hurried forward.
Dave Mather, seeing the two rifles firing at Bill Longley, stood up and stalked forward, two pistols now in his hands, both of them pounding like drums. Joining Longley’s fire, Mather saw one rifle cease to fire in the darkness. To his left he heard Danielle’s Colt and saw the flashes of flame as Danielle moved forward, the three of them forcing the last rifleman to make a run for it.
“Bill,” Mather called out to Longley, “it’s me and Danny Duggin! Hold your fire, we’re coming in.”
“Then come in slow,” Bill Longley replied in the darkness. “Let me get a good look at both of you.”
Danielle moved in with caution, letting Mather arrive a moment ahead of her as she scouted the darkness for any more ambushers. She heard Mather and Longley talking as she finally stepped in closer and saw the two of them bent down over the woman. “You’re hit pretty bad,” Longley said down to the gasping figure on the ground. “Newt Grago put you up to this, didn’t he?”
“Yes,” she said, struggling for breath. “Them . . . cowardly bastards. They was . . . supposed to wait, till you were lying down on your blanket.”
“They should have warned you first, honey,” said Longley, brushing a strand of hair from her fading eyes. “I’m one hard ol’ dog to kill.”
“Well,” she rasped, “it looks like I’m not . . .” Her words trailed and ended in a spent breath. Longley let her head down from his forearm and folded her arms across her stomach wound.
“That does it,” Bill Longley said with venom. “I’m going over to the shack and shoot Newt Grago’s eyes out.” He grunted, trying to rise to his feet and not making it. “Damn it, give me a hand here, Dave, get me on my feet.”
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