Autumn of the Gun (6 page)

“First to Fort Worth and then to New Orleans,” Nathan said. “I like to leave word with Captain Ferguson where I can be reached. Then we'll go on to New Orleans. When I'm tired of drifting, of shooting and being shot at, I spend a few weeks—or months—with my friends Barnabas and Bess McQueen. They have a horse ranch, and Eulie's buried next to the horse barn.”

“They'll always remember you being there ... with her,” said Vivian. “Do you think I'll be welcome?”

“Of course you will,” Nathan said. “That's where I told Harley he could reach us if he needs to.”

“It sounds nice,” said Vivian. “What will we do there?”

Nathan laughed. “As little as possible. We'll eat, sleep, and maybe attend a horse race or two. Barnabas trains horses and races them.”

Nathan and Vivian spent a pleasant hour over supper in the enlisted men's mess hall and then went to the sutler's store, seeking a weapon for Vivian.

“We don't get much call for the .31-caliber Colt,” they were told, “so we don't sell 'em new. But we got a secondhand piece. Belonged to a gambler that couldn't back up his bluff with his gun.”

“We'll take it,” said Nathan, “along with two hundred rounds of ammunition, a pistol belt, and a holster.”

“It's still early,” Vivian said. “What are we going to do now?”

“We're going back to the cabin,” said Nathan, “and for the next several hours, you're going to practice drawing and cocking that pistol. It won't be worth a damn to you until you can draw and fire without shooting yourself in the leg or foot.”

“I reckon we'll stay the night,” said Nathan, “and give you a chance to meet the post commander, Captain Ferguson.”

Ferguson welcomed them, and after visiting with the captain in his office, Nathan and Vivian were assigned quarters for the night.

“You have impressive friends, Nathan,” Vivian said.

“Captain Ferguson was lacking a post telegrapher once,” said Nathan, “and I filled in until he could get a man assigned. The captain hasn't forgotten.”
³

“How far are we from New Orleans?”

“About five hundred miles,” said Nathan. “Taking our time, we're a week away.”

Leaving Fort Worth, they rode eastward, bearing a little to the south. There were no large towns, and many of the villages through which they passed had no hotel or boardinghouse. Often they cooked over an open fire and slept near a spring or a creek. Empty ran on ahead, and their journey was without incident. They crossed the Mississippi at Natchez, and spent the night there before riding on to New Orleans. As they followed the river south, one of the big boats passed, its paddle wheel churning as it headed north.

“They're so grand looking,” said Vivian. “This is the closest I've ever been to one.”

“When we're ready to leave New Orleans,” Nathan said, “maybe we'll take one to St. Louis.”

“I'd like that,” said Vivian. “There's so much I've never seen or done.”

“We won't spend any time in town,” Nathan said. “I'm fair-to-middlin' sure there's at least a few hombres here that would like to see me dead.”

They rode on until they could see the roof of McQueen's horse barn. Empty ran on ahead, and without hesitation took the tree-lined road toward the distant McQueen house. A breeze whispered through the leaves of the majestic oaks, and their shade offered pleasant respite from the sun.

“It all looks so peaceful,” said Vivian.

But looks were deceiving. Empty began barking, and a buzzard flapped sluggishly into the sky, coming to rest atop the horse barn.

“Something's wrong,” Nathan said, kicking the grulla into a gallop.

Vivian followed, reining up behind Nathan as they neared the house. It had a vacant look, and the front door stood open. Empty awaited their arrival, growling deep in his throat. Nathan's heart sank when he discovered what had attracted the buzzards. Near the house lay the mutilated remains of Barnabas McQueen's four hounds. As unnerving as the sight was, the odor was worse. Nathan's horse shied at the smell of death and, reining up, he dismounted. Vivian reined up, waiting, as Nathan went closer. Quickly he turned away and returned to the grulla.

“What killed them?” Vivian asked.

“They were shot,” said Nathan. “We'll leave the horses next to the barn and go on to the house on foot. Keep your pistol handy; I don't know what's waiting for us.”

Remembering the McQueens had always entered the house through the kitchen, Nathan ignored the open front door. Vivian followed him around the house, waiting as he tried the back door. It opened readily, and she followed him into the kitchen. A chair lay on its side and fragments of a broken dish were scattered on the floor. A length of stove wood lay under the table, while on the otherwise clean white tablecloth there were flecks of dried blood.

“They put up a fight,” said Nathan, “but they were taken away. The dogs have been dead maybe two days.”

“What could have happened to them, and why?” Vivian asked.

“I don't know,” said Nathan, “but I have an idea. Barnabas bought and trained horses. Expensive horses. Let's have a look in the barn.”

There were no horses in the barn. Vivian stepped out ahead of Nathan, and he closed the door. Immediately he began looking for tracks, and there were plenty.

“The trail's two days old,” Nathan said. “What I don't understand is why they didn't kill Barnabas and Bess instead of taking them along.”

“Empty's found something,” said Vivian.

The dog ran toward them, and with a yip turned and ran back the way he had come.

“Let's ride,” Nathan said. “He's found a trail.”

They rode at a slow gallop, Empty keeping well ahead of them, and when they reached a patch of bare ground, Nathan reined up, studying the tracks.

“Ten horses,” said Nathan, “four of them on lead ropes. Allowin' mounts for Barnabas and Bess, there's four of the varmints.”

The trail led to the south; occasionally the distant blue of the Gulf of Mexico could be seen through the trees.

“This makes no sense,” Nathan said. “The way they're headed, there'll soon be water everywhere except behind them. That leaves just one possibility.”

“A boat,” said Vivian.

“Yes,” Nathan replied, “and that's where we'll lose them.”

But the trail began veering back to the west, following the shore line, and the blue of the gulf was clearly visible to their left. Entering a profusion of undergrowth, willows, and cane, they were forced to dismount and lead their horses. Suddenly, before them was the desolate remains of a cabin. The shake roof was gone, and the standing walls were so mossed over they were all but invisible.

“We'll have to take it slow,” Nathan said softly. “They could be holed up here.”

But somewhere within the ruins, Empty yipped three times.

“Empty says it's safe,” said Nathan. “Come on.”

They found Barnabas McQueen first. He lay face down, his hands bound behind him, and he had been shot twice. In the back.

“Vivian,” Nathan said, “see if you can find Bess.” Cutting the bonds, Nathan tried both wrists, but failed to find a pulse. Frantically, he sought the big artery in the neck, sighing with relief when he found a spark of life.

“I found Bess,” said Vivian.

“How bad?” Nathan asked.

“Bad enough,” said Vivian. “She's been stripped, brutalized, and shot, but she's still alive. She's burning up with fever.”

“So is Barnabas,” Nathan said, “but at least they're alive. We must get them to a doctor, pronto, and we'll need a buckboard. We're only three or four miles south of town. I'll leave Empty with you, and I'll be back as soon as I can.”

Nathan galloped away. The only livery he knew of was across the street from the St. Charles Hotel; he had no time to search for one any closer, so he went there.

“I need a buckboard and team,” he told the liveryman. “I'd like to leave my horse with you and claim him when I return the buckboard. I have some sick folks in bad need of a hospital. Where's the nearest one?”

“Five blocks down St. Charles, on the left,” said the liveryman. “It's the Le Croix.”

“Thanks,” Nathan said. Climbing to the box, he flicked the reins, guiding the team into the cobbled street.

Waiting for Nathan, Vivian looked around for Bess McQueen's clothing. Finding none, she wrapped the unfortunate woman in a blanket. She then went to see about Barnabas, and was startled to find his eyes open, watching her.

“Who ... are ... you?” he croaked.

“Vivian Stafford. I'm with Nathan Stone. He's gone for a buckboard.”

“Bess ... ?”

“She's alive,” said Vivian.

“Thank ... God ...” Barnabas mumbled. His eyes closed and he was again lost to a burning fever.

It seemed hours before Vivian heard the welcome rattle of the approaching buckboard. Vivian had a blanket ready, and they lifted Barnabas onto it and took him to the buckboard first. Bess was within the ruins of the cabin and would have to be carried farther. When they had her in the buckboard beside Barnabas, Nathan climbed to the seat, flicked the reins, and started the team toward town. Vivian rode alongside while Empty followed. Nathan turned on to St. Charles and soon reined up before the Le Croix Hospital. By the time Nathan was off the box, attendants were there with stretchers. Empty remained with the buckboard while Nathan and Vivian followed the stretcher-bearing attendants into the hospital. A nurse approached Nathan with pad and pencil.

“Barnabas and Bess McQueen,” said Nathan. “They've been shot.”

“Who are you?” the nurse asked. “Are you responsible for them?”

“A friend of theirs, Nathan Stone, and yes, I'll be responsible for them. Do what you must. They're burning up with fever.”

Barnabas and Bess were taken away, and it was almost an hour before Nathan and Vivian had any word. Finally a doctor approached them.

“I'm Dr. McKendree. I have removed the lead, and fortunately their vitals have been spared. But they've lost a lot of blood, and infection has already taken hold. We're doing our best to save them. Have you notified the police?”

“No,” said Nathan. “We have no idea who shot them. There'll be time enough for that when they're able to talk. When will you have another report on their condition?”

“We should know something by noon tomorrow,” McKendree said.

Nathan and Vivian returned to the buckboard, and only then did Nathan speak.

“Wait here until I return the buckboard and get my horse. Then we'll find us a hotel or boardinghouse. We'll be here until Barnabas and Bess are able to talk. I'm hoping they can tell us who's responsible for this.”

“And then?”

“Then we go after the varmints,” said Nathan.

They found a boardinghouse with a stable across the alley, not far from the Le Croix Hospital. While Nathan and Vivian approached the front desk, Empty sat near the door. The old lady looked at Nathan, at the dog, and back to Nathan.

“He makes a mess,” she said, “you clean it up or pay to have it done. Two dollars a day. Meals is extra.”

Nathan paid for two days in advance and accepted the key; then the pair left to stable their horses. That done, they returned to the boardinghouse. Their room was in the rear with an outside entrance.

“We might as well get some rest,” Nathan said. “I don't know of anything to do in this town except visit the saloons, drink, and gamble.”

“I think we can do better than that,” said Vivian. “Besides, if you've had trouble here, you shouldn't be seen any more than necessary.”

“My thoughts, exactly,” Nathan said. “I don't know that I still have enemies here, but I don't want to confirm it by being shot in the back.”

 

Rather than attract too much attention, Nathan and Vivian left their horses stabled and walked back to the Le Croix Hospital. They waited half an hour before the doctor could see them.

“Another day,” said McKendree, “and the infection would have been too far advanced. But you got them here in time, and unless they take an unexpected turn for the worse, I believe they'll recover.”

“How long before we can talk to them?” Nathan asked.

“Not for another forty-eight hours,” said McKendree, “and maybe not then. It will depend on their progress.”

McKendree ended the conversation and went about his business, leaving Nathan and Vivian with time on their hands. For the lack of anything better to do, they returned to their room at the boardinghouse.

“Now,” said Vivian, removing her boots, “aren't you glad I came with you?”

“I am, for a fact,” Nathan replied. “I've never been very good at waiting around with nothing to do. Can you keep me busy until suppertime?”

“I reckon,” said Vivian, “but not with you standing there in your boots, britches, hat, and gunbelt.”

They slept, awakening an hour before sundown.

“I know a cafe near the Pioneer Hotel that serves fried catfish,” Nathan said. “I'm willing to risk gettin' shot for a mess of catfish.”

“Is that all they have?”

“Oh, no,” said Nathan. “They have 'gator tail, crab, oysters, and just about any kind of critter that can be hauled out of the river or the gulf.”