Autumn of the Gun (7 page)

Vivian shuddered. “I've always been partial to catfish, myself.”

 

Time dragged, but somehow they survived, and the fourth day after the McQueens had been taken to the Le Croix Hospital, Dr. McKendree allowed Nathan and Vivian to spend a few minutes with them. Barnabas and Bess, in separate beds, were in the same room. Nathan wasted no time introducing Vivian, and after a glad welcome from Barnabas and Bess, Nathan questioned them and Barnabas replied.

“Remember the big black, Diablo, that Eulie trained?”

“Yes,” said Nathan.

“He's never lost a race. On Sunday, June fourth, we raced him at Natchez, and every other horse ate his dust. A gambler from Shreveport, Rutledge Jackman, offered us twenty thousand dollars for Diablo, and we refused to sell. It ended in a cuss fight, with Jackman swearing he would have Diablo. Four of them came after us, and they struck just before first light. Two of them gunned down the dogs while the other two came after us. First they shot me. Likely would have killed me, but Bess brained one of them with a stick of stove wood, and they went after her. That's when I blacked out.”

“It's well that he did,” Bess cut in. “They tore my clothes off. If he'd seen them do ... what they did ... hurt as he was, he'd have fought them. And they would have killed him.”

“You're both alive,” said Nathan, “and that's worth any sacrifice. They're going to pay for what they've done, along with Rutledge Jackman. Your horses will be returned, too.”

“Nathan,” Barnabas said, “you've saved our lives, and that's all we have any right to expect. This is my fight.”

“You're in no condition to fight,” said Nathan, “and by the time you are, this damned Rutledge Jackman may have sold your horses, or hidden them where you can't find them.”

“I must admit that bothers me,” Barnabas said. “The other three horses aren't quite in Diablo's class, but they have the potential. They represent seven years of hard work.”

“That's why I'm going after them,” said Nathan. “Is there anything more you can tell me about Rutledge Jackman?”

“Only that he's ruthless,” Barnabas said. “God only knows how many men he hires, and they may all be killers. I can't let you go up against such odds alone.”

“You have no choice,” said Nathan. “Besides, I work better alone.”

“You're not going alone,” Vivian said.

Bess laughed. “Nathan Stone, she's a strong woman. You ride with him, my dear, and watch his back.”

“Barnabas,” said Nathan, “the doctor has already mentioned the law. Since you have no proof to support what you've told us, the law won't be much help. Anything you tell them now could point to you as a suspect when I'm done with Rutledge Jackman.”

“We won't be telling the law anything, except that four men shot and robbed us,” Barnabas said. “We can truthfully say we've never seen them before.”

“Good,” said Nathan. “That leaves me free to use whatever manner of persuasion may be necessary. I know Diablo, but how can I identify the other three horses?”

“There's another black that could be Diablo's double,” Barnabas said. “The other two are chestnuts, and all four are branded with a crown on the left hip.”

“I want you and Bess to remain here in the hospital for a few days,” said Nathan, “and when you're allowed to go home, lock your doors at night and arm yourselves. We'll return as soon as we can and bring your horses.”

“I don't know how to thank you,” Barnabas said.

“You don't owe me any thanks,” said Nathan. “Any wrong done to my friends is a wrong done to me.
Vaya con Dios.”

Nathan stepped out of the room, followed by Vivian. Neither spoke until they had left the hospital.

“All we know is a man's name and where he is,” Vivian said.

“I've hunted men with a lot less,” said Nathan. “We'll ride to Shreveport and have us a look at this Rutledge Jackman.”

“What do you intend to do, beyond recovering the horses?” Vivian asked.

“I aim to teach Jackman and his bunch the error of their ways,” said Nathan. “Those four who robbed and shot Barnabas and Bess won't ever do that again.”

“First,” said Nathan, “we'll find us an out-of-the-way boardinghouse. Then we'll set about investigating this Rutledge Jackman.”

The boardinghouse wasn't as isolated as Nathan would have liked, but within walking distance there was a livery. The hostler had a female hound that struck Empty's fancy, and it would be a convenient place to leave Empty when it became inconvenient to bring the dog along.

“Pardner,” said Nathan when the liveryman had stabled their mounts, “I'm interested in fast horses, and I hear there's an hombre in these parts who buys, sells, and races 'em. Can you tell me anything about him? His name is Rutledge Jackman.”

“Nothin' to tell,” the hostler said, a little too hurriedly. “Owns the Five Aces Saloon here in town, and Jackman Stables, just north of here on the Red.”

He hurried away, unable or unwilling to say more.

“Which are we going to visit first?” Vivian asked.

“I'm going to visit the Five Aces Saloon,” said Nathan. “You're going to wait for me in our room at the boardinghouse.”

“It won't be easy for me, watching your back from there,” Vivian said.

“We're not in deep enough for that,” said Nathan. “It may be best if Jackman doesn't know we're together.”

“I've had saloon experience,” Vivian said. “I can always hire on at the Five Aces.”

“I don't think so,” said Nathan. “Somehow, I believe Harley expects better of you, and of me.”

Despite her protests, Nathan left her at the boardinghouse and went looking for the Five Aces Saloon. Somehow he must learn what Jackman intended to do with the horses taken from Barnabas McQueen. Was Jackman going to sell the animals or race them? With the McQueens being left for dead, Nathan was inclined to think Jackman intended to keep and race the horses. Nathan needed time, for his was a threefold task. Not only were the four who had robbed and shot the McQueens going to pay, but so would Rutledge Jackman for having sent them. Finally, Nathan intended to recover McQueen's four horses. The Five Aces could only be described as elegant. The mahogany bar was fifty feet long, and even in the early afternoon three bartenders were on duty. There was a poker game already in progress, but that didn't interest Nathan. Three men sat at a table near the far end of the bar, and on the shirtfront of one of them was a lawman's star. The other two were well dressed in town clothes. One of them beckoned to a bartender.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Jackman,” said the bartender, breaking out a new bottle.

Nathan made his way to the bar and ordered a beer. It allowed him a few minutes to study Jackman. The lawman laughed at something Jackman said, and it was obvious the two were on good terms. Such information might prove useful. Nathan finished his beer and left the saloon. Suppertime wasn't far off, so he returned to the boardinghouse.

“Well?” Vivian said.

“I had a look at the mighty Rutledge Jackman,” said Nathan, “and he's drinking with the sheriff. That pretty well eliminates the possibility of us depending on the law, but his being on good terms with Jackman may work in our favor. Through him, we're going to force Jackman to lead us to the four no-account coyotes who robbed and left Barnabas and Bess for dead. Then we're going to make it so risky that Jackman will try to dispose of the four horses stolen from Barnabas. When he does, we'll get the horses and him.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Vivian said.

“It's anything but simple,” said Nathan. “We're going to need a telegram sent from New Orleans to the sheriff here in Shreveport. I'm counting on him being aware of these four horses Jackman has, and I want him to know those horses were stolen from Barnabas McQueen. To really spook Jackman, this telegram from Barnabas will offer a five-thousand-dollar reward.”

“My God,” Vivian said, “how are we going to accomplish that? You'd need to talk to Barnabas, and it's a four-day ride back to New Orleans. Even if Barnabas agreed to sending the telegram, Jackman could dispose of the horses before we could return here.”

“We're not going to New Orleans,” said Nathan, “and Barnabas won't be sending that telegram. I have a friend in Washington—Byron Silver—who can arrange to have this telegram sent from New Orleans. But to reach Silver, I need the unrestricted use of the telegraph. The nearest access will be through Captain Ferguson at Fort Worth.”

“How far?”

“Not quite two hundred miles,” Nathan said. “Two days there and two days back. I'll have Silver delay the telegram until we've had time to return here. I'm counting on our friend the sheriff to make the connection between Jackman and the stolen horses and to warn Jackman. McQueen's signature on the telegram will tell Jackman that the varmints who took the horses bungled the killing of the McQueens.”

“Then Jackman will lead us to the four who shot the McQueens and took the horses.”

“I'm counting on it,” said Nathan. “He may have the stolen horses at his stable, but he won't feel safe leaving them there. I look for him to distance himself from the horses as well as the men who took them. Where they go, we'll follow.”

“We'll still be up against four men.”

“That's cutting the odds about as fine as they're likely to get,” Nathan said. “Jackman is the kind who might have a dozen or more hired guns. Our only chance is to force him to cut out the four varmints we want, along with McQueen's horses.”

“Then you'll settle for that, leaving Jackman alone?”

“I didn't say that,” said Nathan. “First things first.”

They found a quiet cafe and had supper, after arranging to have Empty fed in the kitchen. There was little talk, and they were almost at the boardinghouse before Nathan finally spoke.

“You're mighty quiet. I reckon you don't care for my plan.”

“Oh, I do like it. All but the last part. Must you go after Rutledge Jackman?”

“Yes,” Nathan said. “That's the most important part. Signing Barnabas McQueen's name to a telegram and leaving Rutledge Jackman alive would condemn Barnabas to death. He expected to get away with the horses by murdering the McQueens. If he's left alive, he won't fail a second time. I won't leave Barnabas and Bess with such a threat hanging over their heads.”

The sun had dipped below the horizon, feathering the western sky with crimson, and somewhere a night bird chirped. Vivian had paused, and when Nathan turned to her, tears were on her cheeks. When she finally spoke, the words came softly, and he had to lean close to hear.

“I've never known a man like you, Nathan Stone. For something—or someone—you believe in, you would die, wouldn't you?”

“Yes,” said Nathan. “Can a man do any less and go on callin' himself a man?”

Words were inadequate. She threw her arms around him, kissing him long and hard. With Nathan's arm around her, they walked on toward the boardinghouse, Empty trotting along beside them.

“I didn't expect to see you again so soon,” Captain Ferguson said when Nathan and Vivian stepped into his office.

“I must admit there's a selfish motive,” said Nathan. “I need the use of your telegraph for a private talk with Byron Silver in Washington. I know it's asking a lot, and I didn't feel comfortable asking anyone but you.”

Ferguson laughed. “I'm flattered, my friend. I'll arrange for the telegrapher to take off as much time as you need.”

Vivian accompanied Nathan to the telegrapher's shack. Nathan began with twenty-one, Silver's code, following it with the Washington address. When he was given permission to send, he tapped out a short message:

 

“We may have to wait awhile,” said Nathan. “I'm asking that Silver be present. This could get him in trouble with his superiors if they know what I'm about to ask of him. I want him on the other end of the wire before I send any details.”

“If it can get him in trouble,” Vivian said, “he may not agree to it.”

“Silver's a Texan,” said Nathan. “He's bent or broken enough rules to be sent to the federal pen for life. Why should he stop now?”

While they waited for Silver to respond, there were several messages of a military nature. Nathan telegraphed permission to send, received each message, and set them aside.

“I hope he's there,” Vivian said when they had waited almost an hour.

“So do I,” said Nathan.

Finally the instrument rattled a message and Nathan took it down. The brief message read:

 

 

Nathan replied:

 

 

It referred to a government mission in which Nathan had assisted Silver and it drew an immediate response. Nathan laughed and began sending. It took time to convey his request, and more time for Silver's response, which proved to be a series of questions.

“It's taking a long time,” said Vivian. “Is he going to help us?”

“Yes,” Nathan said, “but he's offering too much help. All I need from him is to have that telegram sent from New Orleans, with Barnabas McQueen's name signed to it.”