“Silas,” Bardwell asked, looking now across the table. “Tell us again what Intel you boys have from Sacramento?”
“Just that the place once housed maximum security prisoners and it was said to be impenetrable. Butterfield has been said to be operating out of the place, but that’s about all that we know?”
“And you say that the place is only a few hours away?” Bardwell asked the young woman.
“Yes, Sir,” she said. “Stay on the road east out of town and up into the low hills. You can ride out there and be back before nightfall.”
“What are you thinking, Sir?” Curtis asked.
“That maybe you and I should take us an early morning ride?” Bardwell answered.
“What about us, Sir?” Castro asked.
Bardwell nodded thinking through the plan forming in the recesses of his mind. “You two stay here in town. Visit with your cousin, catch up. If the opportunity presents itself, see what you can gather about Butterfield and his party out there in the hills. Franklin and I will scout the place from a safe distance to see what we can.”
“Would you boys be my guests for the night?” Karsyn Faye asked, pouring another round of coffee from the blackened pot. “There aren’t enough beds for the four of you, but I have plenty of blankets for everyone.”
“Sorry, cousin,” Castro said. “But we’ve some things stored at the boardinghouse and we really should be getting back there to watch over it.”
“You boys go ahead and stay here with your family,” Bardwell said. “Give Franklin your key. He and I will keep an eye on things there.”
“Then I expect to see the two of you back here in the morning for breakfast,” she said. “I’ll pack a lunch for you to keep you through the day?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Bardwell said, getting up from the table. “And thank you again for the coffee.”
Castro handed over the boarding house key. Curtis tucked it deep into the front pocket of his trousers. “Yes,” he said. “Thank you, again.”
The young woman blushed but nodded her approval. “I’ll see you two in the morning, right?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the retreating lawmen said in unison. Both placed a hat on their head and pulled the door closed behind. There were few on the street at this late hour. The wind blew cold and stiff. Most of the oil lamps had long been extinguished for the night.
A tired Bardwell held the door for his partner as they walked quietly across the carpeted boardinghouse entryway for the stairs leading up to their rooms.
“I’ll wake you just before five,” he said. “We’ll stop for breakfast and continue on to the livery from there.”
“Yes, Sir,” Curtis said fumbling with the door key and pushing back the door.
Once the boy was inside safely, Bardwell did the same, bolting the door behind. He walked over to the small window and raised it a piece to allow the cool night air inside before he kicked off his boots and lay back on the bed.
Although the lawman didn’t know what the boys from Sacramento had brought along, he was quite sure there were enough explosives in the two closets to wipe the boardinghouse from memory if something were to happen. Hell, the explosion would likely take out the better part of Tulare for that matter.
And what about the young lady, he wondered. It wasn’t unlike his tired mind to keep him awake during the quiet nighttime hours. What higher power could have arranged such a chance meeting?
Daniel Bardwell wasn’t much of a man for God, not like the others anyway. What God could have allowed mortal men to amass the weapons that were unleashed so many years ago nearly destroying the earth in the process. While the others prayed in their church houses, the lawman watched the evil that men could do from afar. It was his job to set things right and by God, he’d see to it or die in trying.
The lawman drifted away into slumber as the cool night air blew in through the open window. He thought of the young woman that had been his wife and the child that she carried. A lone tear broke loose and fell to the pillow under his head. Dan Bardwell was asleep and didn’t realize that it had fallen.
***
The lawman rose well before the daystar thought to make an appearance in the morning sky just north of east. He washed up and dressed for a day on the trail. The day ahead would be an easy one. He and Curtis would ride out to see about this place the boys had called Ironwood.
Bardwell knocked on the door pulling on his canvas coat and hat. Curtis pulled the door back.
“Morning, Sir,” he said smiling as he always did.
“I’m surprised that you’re up,” Bardwell said. A smile touched the corners of his mouth as he turned for the carpeted stairs leading to the outside world.
Curtis pulled the door closed. “I’m hungry,” he said following along.
There were few stirring at this early hour as the lawmen walked up the street to the young woman’s little house with a painted picket fence.
“Good morning, Gentlemen,” the young woman said, smiling from the doorway. She had seen the two lawmen walking from the boardinghouse in the early light. “The boys are already sitting at the table waiting for you.”
Bardwell and Curtis removed their hats and lay them on the floor where they had the night previous.
Ritchie and Castro stood next to the table when the senior lawmen walked into the small kitchen.
“Sit,” Bardwell said, taking a seat himself.
The young woman had outdone herself with the spread that she had prepared for the five of them. Hot biscuits held the middle of the table with a plate of bacon at each side, along with a crock of butter. As the lawmen took their seats, the young woman stirred a pan of gravy one last time.
“I hope you boys are hungry,” she said, standing aside.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Bardwell said, with the wink of an eye.
She poured two cups from the blackened pot and carried them forward. “I have packed a lunch for the two of you,” she said smiling.
“So what are your plans for the day?” Curtis asked the young woman.
She looked puzzled for a moment, thinking. “Well,” she said. “After we see the two of you off, I reckon that I’ll show my cousins around town and catch up on the lives we’ve spent apart?”
“I’ll trade you,” Curtis said, ribbing Castro seated at the table next to him.
Castro smiled. “If you wish, Sir,” he said, with a stolid face.
“I’m kidding you, man,” Curtis said. “You enjoy your time here with your family. Ain’t anything that I’d rather be doing than riding my horse far from town knowing that I’m leaving behind such a beautiful young lady?”
The young woman blushed again.
Bardwell stepped on the toe of his boot.
With the morning meal finished, Bardwell and Curtis made ready to depart the quiet little border town of Tulare.
“We probably should stay around and help clean up?” Curtis said, in a low voice so that only Bardwell would hear.
“You go on,” Castro said, overhearing the hushed comment. “We’re staying and will help with the breakfast dishes and such.”
“Thank you, Son,” Bardwell said, “And thank you, young lady. A finer meal we’ve never had at this early hour.”
“Yes,” Curtis added. “Thank you.”
Karsyn Faye blushed. Even at this early hour, the young lady was beautiful with clear blue eyes and her yellow hair back behind her ears.
Bardwell pulled on his coat and hat. “You say a half day’s ride east?”
“Yes, Sir,” the young woman replied. “Stay to the right when you come to the fork in the road. You can’t miss the place.”
The lawman smiled tipping his hat. Franklin Curtis was already outside in the flat gray morning light.
It wasn’t much of a walk to the livery stable at the far end of town where the lawmen saddled their horses and mounted up for the long day ahead.
“Can I expect you, Gentlemen, back tonig
ht?” The stable boy asked.
Bardwell reached out six pieces of copper. “Yes, Sir,” he said. “You keep us a spot open and see about the other horses, huh?”
“I will, Sir,” the boy beamed, as he tucked the coins deep into his pocket. “Don’t you worry about them, Sir.”
The lawmen swung a leg over and started back along the dusty street that they had walked over once this morning.
Here and there yellow light flickered through bubbled glass windows as the Missus of the house was up now and preparing to send her man off to the fields or shoo the children off to school.
The young woman stood leaning against the porch railing in the early light blowing the steam away from a cup of her coffee. She raised a hand to wave. The lawmen returned the gesture smiling.
“That’s some girl,” Curtis said, once they had ridden out of earshot.
Bardwell smiled. “She is,” he said. “But I’m starting to wonder if our being here won’t endanger her in some way?”
“Oh, come on?” Curtis asked. “How will our being here endanger the girl?”
“I can’t answer that,” he said. “But I do have that feeling.”
“Fuck, man,” Curtis said. “You know what happens when you start feeling that way? Shit always seems to fall apart, Sir.”
“I know,” Bardwell said. “And that’s what I’m afraid of Son.”
The lawmen rode on for a good piece saying no more. Each mulled over what had been said, fearing now for the safety of the young woman
From the north and west clouds were blowing in from the sea. It would rain again before long, maybe not today, but soon. If and when it did, the roads would become impassable for a time. The operation would be threatened. The four lawmen would have to remain in town for a while longer.
For the time, the prairie birds sang cheerful tunes as they darted from place to place. Grassland critters were seen going about their morning chores.
A full rod away from town, Curtis spoke up breaking the self-imposed morning silence. “What are your thoughts on us getting into this place,” he asked. “If it’s as heavily protected as you all think it is?”
Bardwell’s face was screwed up thinking of the proper response. The lawman knew there was a little rift between his partner and the pair of newcomers. He’d have to choose his words tactfully.
“I reckon that we’ll have to see what the boys have in mind,” he said. “It sounds like they’re packing the gear to get us inside?”
“You really think those kids are going to be able to get us inside?” Curtis asked.
“I hope so,” Bardwell said. “If it’s what I think it is, and I’m sure that it is, we aren’t doing this one alone, Son,”
“Those two are just boys, Sir,” Curtis added.
“And…?”
“Look,” Curtis said. “I know that you think of me as a kid also, but I’ve been a good hand over the years. You have to admit it.”
“I do,” Bardwell replied. “But what makes you think that these two aren’t every bit as good? You heard what they said around the fire, they are the only two in the department that can do what they do. Have you even stopped to wonder what they have packed in those green boxes?” The lawman bit off a chew and spit to the dry dirt below. “I have,” he continued. “And I’ll bet that they’re packing a hell of a lot more than a few six-shooters and some dynamite.”
“And these flying ships,” Curtis asked. “What’s the big deal? Why are we tasked with taking them out? Can’t we just arrest Butterfield and his bunch and then confiscate the craft?”
Bardwell looked up the road ahead. There was nothing in the distance. He’d have a little time to answer the boy.
“The flying ships,” he started. “Yes, we could lay up somewhere and jack a couple of rifle rounds into the craft as they fly over, but it won’t hinder their effort much. They’ll continue to operate leaking a small amount of the gas that fills them. And they can be easily repaired at either end of their route. As for simply arresting Butterfield,” he said. “It won’t happen. It’s been tried before and a good many of our brothers paid a terrible price. Do you remember Black McDaniel and his followers?”
“How could I forget?” Curtis asked. “But they were all dope fiends. The job was an easy one looking back on it.”
“Red Owl Mining won’t be that easy, Son,” Bardwell said. “Putting the torch to Broken Hill was a walk in the park compared to what we’ll be up against here.”
“Okay,” Curtis said. “So why do we have to destroy the airships? Why not just put them to better use?”
Bardwell removed one of his saddle guns and held it out for the boy to see. “You take one of these Colts, Son,” he said. “It’s a tool in the right hands. These pistols that I carry have protected me and they’ve fed me many a time. In a good hand, they make a good tool, just like a shovel or a plow. But,” he continued. “In the wrong hands, they become something much more dangerous. You remember Black McDaniel down in the desert and the things that he transported in that flying ship of his.”
“I do,” he replied. “That was some awful shit that guy was doing, especially with those kids.”
“It was,” Bardwell said, nodding his agreement. “Nathaniel Butterfield and Red Owl Mining are doing much the same, but on a grander scale.”
“How could that be so?”
“Butterfield was McDaniel’s best customer,” Bardwell said. “Ironwood prison is where McDaniel flew that flying ship of his.”
“But taking out McDaniel and his Broken Hill operation should have put one hell of a dent in what Butterfield can do, right?”
“It’s just a matter of time, Son,” Bardwell replied. “Until Red Owl mining is up and running again.”
“Now correct me if I’m wrong here, Sir,” Curtis went on. “But a Blimp or Zeppelin can’t fly as fast as one of those flying machines that McDaniel was using?”
“Right,” Bardwell said. “They fly slower, but they don’t require as much fuel as the others, so Butterfield and his boys can travel farther on less of the precious gasoline that they require.”
“Why haven’t we gone after these guys before?” Curtis asked. It was a good question and required an answer.
“We didn’t know about them,” Bardwell said. “The authorities had no idea of where McDaniel was flying that machine of his to the north. Our brothers in the department and the witnesses that had come forward only knew that he departed north along the back side of the range, but as he did his bidding by the dark of night, no one knew where it was that he traveled to.”
“That makes sense,” Curtis replied, thinking it over some. “If he landed that thing way off out here, no one in town would know.”
“Right,” Bardwell said. “And if Butterfield was using the gas ships for his dirty work, no one in town would know as long as he traveled well to the east of town.”
“I’ve got the feeling that I’ll spend my whole life chasing outlaws and never make much of a dent,” Curtis said.
“If you like to think of it that way,” Bardwell said. “I’ve been doing this all of my life it seems and I’ve put a stop to more than one outlaw in my time.”
Curtis laughed. “And that you have, Sir,” he said. “And that you have.”
The dusty miles rolled along with the lawmen lost in their own thoughts. Black clouds were seen boiling over the range further west along the coastline, but for now, there was no threat of the badly needed precipitation.
Dark shadows blew across the grasslands—here to the east of town—leaving the lawmen to wonder if it wasn’t a sign of things to come.
“You reckon that we should stop for a rest?” Bardwell asked, holding the polished silver timepiece in his hand. “It’s just past eleven now and we might not get the chance for a few hours.”
Curtis nodded pointing at a grouping of trees clustered ahead along the road. “Sure,” he said.
The lawmen made the trees and dismounted allowing the animals the opp
ortunity to eat as well.
Curtis gathered up an armload of sticks as Bardwell got to work with his flint and steel. Saddlebags were unpacked revealing an old tin can with a wire bail handle. Bardwell poured water from one of the skins and scooped in the coffee that seemed to keep the lawman going. The water boiled in the coals of the small fire.
“Looks like we’re having cold biscuits and bacon today,” Curtis announced, unpacking his saddlebag. “Sure beats the hell out of hard bread and dried beef.”
In each of the cotton sacks, the young woman had provided was a jar of apricot jelly to go along with the half dozen big biscuits.
“Man,” Curtis went on. “We may have died and gone to heaven?”
“Kind of reminds me of that clan of hill folk down south of here,” Bardwell said, pouring his dented cup full of coffee.
“The Stewart clan,” Curtis said. “That was the best damned food that I’ve eaten out here on the trail with you, Sir.”
“That was good eating,” Bardwell said, looking over the top of his tin cup. He faced to the west with the boy looking across the small fire at him and facing east. There was wonder in Curtis’s eyes as he looked over Bardwell’s shoulder.
“Will you look at that,” he said starting to point.
Bardwell turned to have a look expecting something horrible to be charging over the horizon.
The lawman watched as the lighter-than-air ship rose slowly and pointed its nose to the west and north.
“What the hell do you think it means?” Curtis asked. “Goodyear?”
Emblazoned from front to back across the flying ship was the word GOODYEAR.
“I really don’t know,” Bardwell said, watching the silent craft depart into the gathering storm. “But I do know how they could operate the machine and not have anyone notice,” he said.
Curtis nodded his agreement. “The damned thing sure doesn’t make much noise,” he said. “Not like McDaniel’s flying machine anyway.”
The lawmen were still a full rod or better from the place where the machine had departed. With no threat on the horizon, they continued with their cold dinner.
Bardwell finished with the biscuit in his hand and then reached out his field glasses for a look at the airship.
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