Doom Weapon (12 page)

“A
nd here I thought you were a tough hombre.”

The voice, female, was familiar. But who did it belong to?

“He got hit pretty hard, he did.”

“Yeah, but he’s federal. They’re supposed to be tougher than the rest of us.”

Whoever she was, her preferred means of communication was sarcasm.

I was struggling to get my eyes open. Having difficulty. And even when I did manage to get one of them open everything was so fuzzy I still couldn’t tell who was talking.

“I guess I’ll just have to write an editorial about how federal men just aren’t as tough as we’d thought.”

The diminutive Liz Thayer. Frontier journalist.

The scents then. Medical scents.

I was on an examining table.

The doc, who was a fleshy middle-aged man with thinning red hair, was presently putting a wooden stethoscope to my chest.

“His heart seems to be all right.”

“I’m surprised he’s got a heart.”

The doc laughed. “You’re a mean one, you are.”

Now both eyes were open. Liz leaned in and said, “I was just kidding you so you’d wake up faster. Getting mad gives you energy.”

“That’s her idea of medicine,” the doc said.

“I was walking home from the newspaper when a man came running up the street shouting. He took me over to you. We got you up on a horse and brought you over here. Which reminds me, I stole somebody’s horse. I’d better be getting it back.”

“I thank you for that.”

“Any idea of who did this to you, Noah?”

“The first one had a mask on. The second one I didn’t see at all.”

I made the mistake of trying to raise my head just a bit. The pain in my skull traveled all the way down into my shoulders. I heard myself groan.

“Probably not a good idea,” the doc said. “I’d just stay still.”

“I need to get back to my room. I’ve got things to do early tomorrow morning.”

“Not right away you don’t. I need you to lie here for an hour. I think you can probably manage that, can’t you?” Then: “Damned patients. You try to help them and they fight you all the way.”

“We heard you, Doc,” Liz said.

“Good. I meant you to.” He walked to the door. “Now you sit here and entertain him. I’ve got things to do in my little lab. I’ll be back in an hour.”

When he left, Liz said, “I’m going to find out who they were.”

“Who who were?”

“The two that did this to you.”

“I pretty much know they came from Rafferty.”

“I know. But I want you to know which two it was.”

“You got a stake in this?”

“Yes. If they’re who I think they are, they’re two men who need to get slapped around for a good long time. And you can do it.”

“You read too many dime novels. I’m no hero. Two men at one time. They’d put me right back here.”

“No, dopey. You’d go after them one at a time. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“Right now the last thing I want to think about is fighting.”

I closed my eyes.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to do that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t remember. But I read it somewhere. About when you suspect somebody’s got a concussion.”

“The doc didn’t say anything about that.”

“He probably forgot. I got him rattled. He thinks I talk too much.”

“I sure can’t imagine where he’d get an idea like that.”

“Very funny.”

At some point in the narrow silence that ensued I fell deep down into the welcome crevice of sleep. Luxurious, healing sleep.

Then: “So what’s so important about tomorrow morning?”

I woke again. “What?”

“I said what’s so important about tomorrow morning?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Must be federal, huh?”

“Very federal.”

“I talk too much but I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“Good for you. I still can’t tell you.”

“You’ve figured something out, haven’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“The payoff?”

Her words startled me. I started to raise my head but then groaned and laid it back down again.

“You shouldn’t try and sit up, Noah.”

“Thanks for the advice. And what the hell do you know about the ‘payoff,’ as you call it?”

“I’m a newspaper woman, remember? Meaning I’m not stupid. Meaning I’ve thought a lot about what’s going on in this town. Meaning that Grieves and Dobbs got together. Dobbs had something secret he wanted to sell. Given the articles I read about him, he was obviously selling something the government considers secret. Dobbs wouldn’t know how to market it but Grieves would. Those were my first thoughts. Want to hear a few more?”

“I’m just going to lie here and pretend I’m dead. I’m not hearing anything you’re saying.”

“That’s because I’ve figured it out and federal men don’t want newspaper women to figure anything out. It threatens them. If a dumb little newspaper woman can figure it out, then maybe my job isn’t so tough after all. Maybe I’m not the big shot I think I am.”

“I’m not hearing any of this, remember? I’m officially dead.”

“So anyway, I’m trying to figure out who Grieves would be dealing with in town here. And when you analyze it, there are only two people it could be. And that would be Nan and Glen Turner. They’ve got connections somewhere. Probably everywhere. They pay Grieves and Dobbs so much money for the whatever it is and then they re-sell it for a lot more money somewhere else. Pretty good so far, isn’t it?”

“I know where this is leading and you’re not going with me.”

“Sure I am. And you can’t stop me. I may not be riding alongside you but I’ll be behind you somewhere.”

“Grieves is a killer, Liz. You know that already.”

She leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “Well you may not have noticed, old man, but so am I. And if things get rough, I’ll be there to protect you.” Then: “I just wish you weren’t too old for me.”

J
ust before midnight, the doc came in, checked me over, and said I could leave on my own.

“You’re doing a lot better than I would have thought.”

“Glad you think so, anyway.”

“She’s somethin’, ain’t she? Liz, I mean.”

“Sure is.”

“That first husband of hers, he didn’t deserve her.”

As we talked, he helped me to my feet. Dizziness and shaky knees made me wonder if the doc knew what the hell he was talking about. But after a minute or so the worst of the dizziness passed and my knees stopped trembling.

“I heard what she said about you being too old.”

“Thin walls, huh?”

“She’s all romantic about handsome young men.”

We reached the darkness of the outer office.

“Walk over to the front door now.”

I did so with no problem. “Look good to me.”

“How much I owe you, Doc?”

“Two dollars.”

“Fair enough.”

I walked back and put the money on his desk.

“I also heard you two talking about starting out early in the morning.”

“You heard some dangerous things, Doc. You shouldn’t’ve been listening.”

“At my age, what else I got to do?” His cranky smile was luminous in the shadows of the office. “And you don’t need to be worryin’ about me tellin’ anybody else, either.”

“Good. Because if you did tell somebody what I’m going to do, I’d come back here and show you how unhappy I was.”

“Not much for threats.”

“Neither am I. Givin’ or takin’ ’em. But I expect you to keep quiet.”

“This conversation sure got crazy fast. All I meant when I brought up tomorrow morning was that you’ll have to take it awful easy.”

“Fine. That’s what I’ll do.”

“Somehow I don’t believe you but it’s up to you. It’s your life.”

The night air revived me further. The head still ached but it was down a few notches and I had my mind on things other than the pain.

The occasional lamplight lent the sleepy town a kind of storybook aspect. So neat and clean, all its physical sins hidden by the shadows. A few chimneys plumed smoke into the starry sky, here and there a lamp burned, maybe a book reader or a parent worried about a child with fever.

I’m pretty sure I was asleep by the time I got back to my room.

My body just plain didn’t want to get up. A good washing, three cups of coffee, a chilly breeze through
the open window, and the damned thing still wanted to head right back to the bed to hide under the covers for another eight or nine days. My mind kept trying to give it orders. But all the body did was make a dirty gesture.

But I had no choice. I had to get up, to function and function reasonably well. If my calculation was right about the date circled on Nan’s calendar, this was an important day.

Liz waited for me at the restaurant. She patted an empty chair as if I was her pet dog. I sat down where my master indicated.

“You look pretty rough, Noah.”

“Thank you.”

“How’s your head?”

“Still attached to my shoulders.”

“You’re really in a terrible mood, aren’t you?”

“Gosh, I can’t imagine why.”

The woman came for my order. Before my mind could even form the images of the breakfast I wanted, Liz said, “He’ll have what I had, Mae.”

“Thanks, Liz.”

I looked at her plate.

All that was left were a few traces of gravy.

“Thanks for ordering for me.”

“God, are you crabby. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“I can order my own breakfast. I’m a big boy.”

“You don’t sound like a big boy. You sound like a very spoiled small boy. I try and do you a favor and you go all sullen on me.”

I drank my coffee. With the three I’d had at the hotel, I was starting to get those morning jitters that often accompany too much caffeine.

“I brought my carbine. I’m going to prove to you that I’m a good shooter, Noah.”

“I still wish you weren’t going.”

“Please. Let’s not go through this again.”

I ate. She watched me. The head wound started to leak a little. She daubed at it with a clean white handkerchief. “I figured you’d still be bleeding. I also figured I’d have to take care of you.”

By now, the town’s most important people had started to gather in the room. Most of them glanced in my direction. None of them looked happy to see me.

“Sometimes I want to leave this town.”

My mouth packed with eggs, potatoes, and coffee, responding to her was impossible. I shrugged.

“You probably don’t believe that, do you?”

I just wanted to sit here and eat. I didn’t want to hear about her life. I didn’t care about her life. I shrugged silently again.

“But my folks helped settle this land here and that’s sort of my heritage. Or does that sound corny?”

Another shrug.

“You have very expressive shoulders.” She laughed. “You have a dab of egg yolk on your nose.”

She found her trusty handkerchief again and cleaned off my face.

I finished up and said, “You really do talk a lot.” Then: “There they are.”

I’d stationed myself so that I had a clear view of the hotel where Nan and Glen had been staying. They wore riding clothes. Glen carried a Winchester. They’d be headed to the livery. I wasn’t sure where they were going but I assumed they wouldn’t be walking.

“He has a Winchester.”

“I noticed that.”

“I’ll bet I’m a better shot than he is.”

I glanced at her and smiled. “I’m afraid, my dear, that isn’t saying much.”

If there’s a heaven, I sure hope it looks a lot like the territory we traveled through that day. The black oak and silver pine, Joshua and incense cedar, the shining river that curled around prehistoric abutments of rock packed with centuries-old limber pine that at least four Indian tribes held to be sacred. We didn’t talk much because the beauty all around us required silence and reverence.

You could see why they’d built a resort out there. The loamy aromas alone had an almost narcotic effect on your senses. And the wind off the wide blue river was like a baptism, it birthed you anew in its purity.

One time I even caught Liz tearing up. I liked to think that maybe it was because of the sheer startling power of the land all around us.

But later I had to think again when she said, for no seeming reason: “He always said we’d live in a place like this someday.”

“Who said?”

“My husband.”

I think that was the first time I sensed real grief and loss in her. She’d always sort of kidded about her feelings toward the man before. But those words were pure pain. Those words spoke of a love still very much with her. I still wanted to sleep with her but now I wanted to help her some, too.

“Maybe he’ll come back someday.”

“If he does, I’ll shoot him.”

“You’re one dangerous lady.”

“Just shut up, Noah. Just shut up.”

I smiled at her and rode on ahead a while. Give her some alone time.

During my Pinkerton years I worked mostly out of Chicago, Baltimore, and Kansas City. There was a lot of surveillance work. A lot of agents will tell you that it’s easy work. You just follow somebody around and jot down where he’s gone and who he’s seen. Better than being shot at, they’ll tell you.

But it’s boring. Your feet ache, you have to be extremely conscious of what the man you’re following might do suddenly—like turn around and point at you and shout that you’re following him—and only about 40 percent of the time does it yield anything interesting either to the party that engages the Pinks or to you as an agent.

Following somebody on horseback isn’t a hell of lot more thrilling. You’re doing the same thing except you’re sitting atop an animal that is a virtual shitting machine. On a nice day, like this one was, the scenery provides the only real diversion.

I doubted that Nan and Glen Turner were going to spot us. From what I could see with my field glasses, they were too busy bickering to notice much else going on. One of them had undoubtedly slept with a stranger the night before and was now engaged in defending him or herself.

Liz said, “How come you keep looking back like that?”

“Because somebody’s following us.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You know who?”

“Not yet.”

“We’re following somebody and somebody’s following us?”

“Sure seems to be that way.”

“Does stuff like this happen to you very often?”

“All the time.”

“What’re you going to do about it?”

“Nothing.”

“Why not?”

“No reason to. I want to find out who they are and why they’re following us. Give it some more time.”

“Boy, I don’t like this. They could ambush us or something.”

“Just relax.”

“They probably have guns.”

“They probably do.”

We rode side by side. I reached over and touched her arm. “If you’ll take some advice from a creaky old man, we have guns, too.”

She said, “Now let’s be fair here, Noah. I never said you were creaky.”

“I just put that part in so you’d feel sorry for me.”

“Well, it didn’t work.”

After that, I didn’t say anything for a long time.

Early in the afternoon, we stopped to water the horses and to feed ourselves with the beef and bread Liz had brought along.

We sat on the riverbank and she said, “You worried about who’s following us?”

“I’m curious. Not worried.”

“I just don’t like the idea that somebody’s behind us and we don’t know who it is.”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea of who it is.”

“You do? Then why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I’d wait till I got a look at him so I could be sure.”

“Well, tell me who you think it is.”

“Grab my field glasses and climb that tree over there and find out for yourself. You good at climbing trees?”

“I grew up with three brothers and I could outclimb every one of them.”

“Well, we just came up from a pretty deep valley. You should be able to see him pretty easy.”

She didn’t even finish her sandwich. She went over to my saddlebags, snatched up the field glasses, and confronted the sizable oak.

She scrambled up it a hell of a lot faster than I could have even as a boy. When she got near the top, she called back, “I told you I was good at this.”

“We’ll have a ceremony back in town.”

“You’re just jealous.”

And then she went about her business.

Didn’t take her long. “Damn. I see him.”

“Good.”

“Let’s see if you guessed right. Who is it?”

“Sheriff Terhurne.”

“You’re right. How’d you know?”

“Because there’s an election coming up and he probably thinks that if he helps bring Grieves in, the voters’ll put him back in office.”

“He’s finished.”

“You know he’s finished and I know he’s finished but I’m not sure he knows he’s finished.”

She came back to the riverbank, sat down next to me, and resumed finishing off her beef sandwich.

“I sort of feel sorry for him.”

“I don’t,” I said.

“You stuck up for him.”

“I stuck up for him because I didn’t like what Rafferty was doing.”

“Oh. I wonder what he’ll do after he loses. He never has any money. He owes quite a bit to Swarthout’s bank, in fact.”

“He’s a big boy. He can figure it out.”

“You’re kind’ve cold right now, Noah.”

“I just don’t like him grandstanding. He obviously kept his eye on me, otherwise he wouldn’t have known what we’re up to.”

“Imagine that,” she said, “you spy on people all the time but when they spy on you, you don’t like it at all.”

“Yeah,” I said, “imagine that.”