California Carnage (12 page)

Fargo went to the hut where Grayson and Belinda were staying, intending to knock on the door, but it opened before he got there and Belinda stepped out, looking fresh and rested. She smiled at Fargo and said, ‘‘Good morning, Skye. Are we ready to go?’’

‘‘Just about,’’ Fargo told her. ‘‘Is your father awake?’’

‘‘I certainly am,’’ Grayson answered as he emerged from the hut behind Belinda. ‘‘Any trouble from that man Jarlberg this morning?’’

‘‘No, but we’ve picked up another passenger for the rest of the trip.’’ Fargo waved a hand toward the coach. Angie stood beside it with Jimmy.

‘‘Oh!’’ Belinda said. ‘‘That poor girl! I hoped that she might come with us, but I wasn’t sure if she would want to.’’

‘‘She wants to,’’ Fargo said. ‘‘She sure doesn’t want to stay here.’’

‘‘Hmmph! Can’t blame her for that,’’ Grayson said. ‘‘She’s more than welcome to come along. She can be the first official passenger of Grayson’s California Stagecoach Line!’’

With the team hitched up, the coach was ready to roll. Several of the farmers came out to say good-bye to the travelers. Fargo shook hands with them and thanked them again. The sun was just about to peek over the tops of the mountain range to the east when Fargo swung into the Ovaro’s saddle and called to Sandy to move out. With a pop of the whip, a slap of the reins, and a rattle of the wheels, the coach lurched into motion and rolled along the trail, away from Los Olivos.

Fargo glanced back and thought,
Good riddance.

Farther up the coast, the next stop on the original Mission Trail had been Mission La Purísima Concepción, but it had been abandoned some years earlier and was no longer a church of any sort. San Luis Obispo was still in use, and a small town was beginning to develop nearby. That was where the stage stopped at midday. The village of San Luis Obispo had an inn, and Fargo and his companions were grateful for the chance to sit down and have an actual meal there, washed down with cups of strong coffee.

When they came back out to the coach to depart, Angie surprised all of them by asking if she could ride up top on the driver’s seat.

‘‘Mighty windy up here, gal,’’ Sandy replied with a scowl. ‘‘And if’n we was to hit a bad spot in the trail, you might get bounced right off.’’

‘‘I can hang on,’’ Angie said. Fargo had noticed during lunch that she kept stealing glances at Jimmy, and he suspected the gangling young man was the reason Angie wanted to ride on top of the stage. That way they could see each other and maybe even talk.

Jimmy said, ‘‘I think it’s a good idea.’’

‘‘You would,’’ Sandy grumbled. ‘‘You just want to make calf’s eyes at this poor gal.’’

Both of the youngsters blushed.

Belinda put a hand on Angie’s shoulder and said, ‘‘I’ve enjoyed talking to you this morning, but if you want to ride outside, I think you should. You’ll get a lot more fresh air that way.’’

‘‘It’s settled,’’ Fargo said, trying not to grin at Sandy’s obvious discomfiture. ‘‘Climb on up, Angie, and hang on tight.’’

They were still in the long valley between mountain ranges, so the afternoon’s travel went fairly easily. By evening they were approaching the settlement of Paso Robles, near the old San Miguel mission. Fargo had dropped back to ride alongside the coach on one side, while Jimmy rode on the other side, leading the spare horses.

Grayson poked his head out the window on Fargo’s side, sniffed, and asked, ‘‘What’s that smell? It smells like . . . brimstone.’’

‘‘Don’t worry,’’ Fargo told him. ‘‘We’re not coming into Hell. There are some hot springs up here at Paso Robles, and they give off that smell of sulfur.’’

‘‘Hot springs, you say?’’ Grayson asked with sudden interest. ‘‘Such springs are very healthful. People will travel for miles to visit them. Once the stages are coming through on a regular basis, they can come to Paso Robles and bathe in the springs for their health.’’

Grayson was a canny businessman, always looking for some way to sell his enterprises to the public. Fargo had to give him credit for that.

In Paso Robles there was a hotel operated by a man named Houck. Out back was a stable, and that was where Sandy wheeled the stage, bringing it to a halt in a billowing cloud of dust. A couple of hundred people lived in the town, and it appeared to Fargo that most of them had heard the stagecoach coming and turned out to greet its arrival.

Kids ran around, followed by barking dogs; men stood in groups with their hands in their pockets, talking among themselves; and women held handkerchiefs over their noses to protect them from the dust. This was the biggest settlement the coach had visited since Santa Barbara, and the farthest it had deviated from the original trail between the missions.

The owner of the hotel came out to the stable to shake hands with Grayson and greet the rest of the party. ‘‘We heard you were comin’,’’ Houck said. ‘‘It’s a great day for the town o’ Paso Robles. Yes, sir, a great day!’’

‘‘How did you know we were coming?’’ Fargo asked, surprised that word of their journey had reached the settlement ahead of them.

‘‘Why, Mr. Stoddard told me, of course,’’ Houck replied.

Grayson stiffened in surprise and anger. ‘‘Stoddard’s here? Hiram Stoddard?’’

Houck nodded. ‘‘That’s right. Only he’s not here anymore. He left earlier today, heading on up the coast toward Soledad.’’

‘‘Damn it!’’ Grayson burst out. ‘‘Was he traveling by stagecoach?’’

Houck looked confused as he replied, ‘‘No, him and the fellas with him were on horseback. Ain’t he your partner? I got the feelin’ that him and the other fellas were sort of advance men, I reckon you could say.’’

‘‘No, he’s not my partner. What he is, is a cutthroat son of a—’’

Belinda put a hand on her father’s arm, stopping him before he could finish. ‘‘Mr. Stoddard and my father are competitors,’’ she said. ‘‘He hopes to start a stage line between Los Angeles and San Francisco, too.’’

Houck scratched his head. ‘‘Well, he didn’t say nothin’ about that. Just said you folks’d be along later.’’

Grayson smacked his right fist into his left hand and said, ‘‘That devil’s up to something! I know it. How in the hell did he get past us?’’

‘‘Rode some at night, more than likely,’’ Fargo said. ‘‘We wouldn’t notice a few horsebackers going by on the trail.’’

‘‘But I don’t understand. What does he hope to accomplish by this tactic?’’

Fargo could only shake his head. ‘‘I don’t know . . . but I reckon if we keep going, there’s a good chance we’ll find out.’’

Fargo’s main worry was that Stoddard and the men with him would set up an ambush somewhere farther along the trail. He didn’t think Stoddard would stop at murder to prevent Grayson from reaching San Francisco. With Grayson dead, Stoddard could take his time about setting up his own stagecoach line along the coast.

But for tonight, anyway, they were safe, Fargo figured. Stoddard wouldn’t try anything in the middle of a settlement.

Then he recalled the attempt to kidnap Belinda in Los Angeles. Maybe it would be a good idea to remain alert, just on general principles.

When Fargo discussed that with Sandy, the jehu agreed that they should continue to guard the stagecoach and the horses at night. ‘‘I’ll stand the first watch,’’ Sandy offered. ‘‘Jimmy done just fine last night, so I reckon we can trust him after all. He can take the second watch.’’

Fargo nodded. ‘‘And I’ll finish up the night.’’ He wondered if he would have a chance to spend some more time with Belinda tonight. Even if he did, it would probably be early enough so that it wouldn’t interfere with him standing guard duty.

During dinner, Grayson and Houck had a lengthy, animated discussion about the hot springs in the area. Houck was a good businessman, too, and saw the potential in the situation right away. If he built another hotel adjacent to the springs themselves, just outside of town, Grayson’s stagecoaches could make the place their regular stop in Paso Robles. Travelers could spend the night there and have a soak in the healing springs before continuing on their journey. It would be a beneficial arrangement for both men.

After dinner, Belinda drew Angie aside and said, ‘‘I think some of my dresses would fit you, dear. Why don’t you come upstairs with me and we’ll see about finding you something nicer to wear than that patched old dress?’’

‘‘You sure you wouldn’t mind, ma’am?’’

‘‘Of course not,’’ Belinda replied with a smile. ‘‘Come along with me.’’

They disappeared up the stairs to the hotel’s second floor. Jimmy leaned over and said to Sandy, ‘‘I don’t hardly see how Miss Angie could get any prettier than she already is.’’

Sandy just grumbled and scowled. ‘‘Romance!’’ he muttered under his breath in disgust.

Fargo smiled and left the hotel, walking out back to check on the coach and the horses. A couple of hostlers were still working in the stable, so he didn’t think Stoddard would try to steal or damage the coach until later in the night, if indeed Stoddard tried anything at this point.

Sandy followed him and caught up to him as Fargo was standing at the corral fence with a booted foot propped on the bottom rail.

‘‘Lord, that youngster’s in there moonin’ over that gal,’’ Sandy complained. ‘‘He can’t wait for her to come back down so he can see what she looks like dressed in some o’ Miss Grayson’s clothes.’’ He spat on the ground. ‘‘O’ course, you can’t help but feel a mite sorry for the gal. She’s had a heap o’ trouble in her life. Told me about some of it this afternoon whilst she was ridin’ up top with me.’’

‘‘Did she say what happened to her face?’’ Fargo asked.

‘‘She got a pot o’ boilin’ water dumped on her by accident, some years back when she was still a kid. Lucky it just missed her left eye, or she’d’ve prob’ly been blinded in that one. Her folks never did treat her the same after that, even though it weren’t her fault. I reckon they was worried she’d never find a husband to take her off their hands, lookin’ like that.’’

‘‘She looks just fine,’’ Fargo said, ‘‘scar or no scar.’’

Sandy grunted. ‘‘Yeah, Jimmy sure as hell seems to think so. He’s gone plumb loco over her. Asked me a while ago if I thought she’d marry up with him, if he was to ask.’’

‘‘Only one way for him to find out.’’

‘‘Yeah, but why’d he want to go and do a thing like that for? Hell, he might as well be puttin’ his own head in the noose—’’

No doubt Sandy would have gone on complaining for a while, but the sudden sound of a scream cutting through the night silenced him. He and Fargo both whirled around, well aware that the scream had come from the hotel.

And Fargo thought he recognized the voice of the woman who had let out that terrified cry.

Fargo and Sandy broke into a run toward the hotel, the Trailsman’s longer legs outdistancing the shorter jehu. His Colt was already in his hand as he charged into the building and headed up the stairs, taking them two or three at a time.

Belinda hadn’t screamed again, but that might not be a good thing. She might have fallen silent because something had
silenced
her.

Sandy was still huffing and puffing up the stairs when Fargo reached the second-floor landing. He grasped the banister with his free hand to help swing himself around. The corridor was crowded with folks who had heard the cry and come out of their rooms to see what was going on. They got out of the way in a hurry when they saw the grim-faced Fargo coming toward them with the big gun in his hand.

The door of Belinda’s room was jerked open before Fargo got there. To his great relief, he saw Belinda and Angie in the doorway, clutching at each other, white-faced with fright as they tried to get out of the room. They stopped and Belinda exclaimed, ‘‘Skye!’’

Fargo ran his gaze over both young women. As far as he could see, they were unharmed. Angie was wearingone of Belinda’s gowns and looked very nice in it, despite being scared.

‘‘Are you two all right?’’ Fargo asked as he came up to them.

Belinda nodded and said, ‘‘Yes, just . . . just frightened. We saw . . .’’ She swallowed, unable to go on for a moment.

‘‘It was awful,’’ Angie put in. ‘‘Just awful.’’

‘‘What?’’ Fargo prodded.

Belinda said,
‘‘A ghost.’’

Fargo’s eyes narrowed. He might have expected her to say a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.

‘‘A ghost?’’ he repeated.

Belinda and Angie both nodded. ‘‘It was outside the window of my room, hanging in midair and . . . and glowing.’’

‘‘It was a man’s face,’’ Angie added. ‘‘The spookiest thing I ever saw.’’

She had become more talkative as the day went on, as familiarity with her new companions overcame her ingrained shyness, and now the words bubbled out of her.

‘‘His face was lit up and he gave out this terrible moan and I never saw anything like it in all my borned days! Me and Miss Grayson were so scared we grabbed on to each other, and she let out a yell, and then we stood there too scared to move for a minute.’’

‘‘What happened to the ghost?’’ Fargo asked.

Belinda and Angie looked at each other. ‘‘I—I don’t know,’’ Belinda admitted. ‘‘It must have disappeared when I screamed.’’

Angie shook her head. ‘‘I was so shook up I never noticed when it vanished.’’

Sandy had come up behind Fargo, along with Jimmy, Grayson, and Houck, who had still been downstairstalking when Belinda screamed. The hotel owner declared, ‘‘There are no ghosts in this place. I just built it last year, and nobody’s died here. I’d appreciate it if you folks wouldn’t go around sayin’ that it’s haunted, because that’ll be mighty bad for my business.’’

Fargo didn’t really care about Houck’s business. He just wanted to get to the bottom of this incident.

‘‘You said this so-called ghost was a man. What did he look like?’’

‘‘Well . . .’’ Belinda hesitated. ‘‘He wasn’t young. He had a bald head.’’