Gun Work: The Further Exploits of Hayden Tilden (12 page)

“Terrible mistake on your part, that's for certain.”

“Truth is Marshal Tilden, I ain't never kilt nobody. Nobody. Just don't have the stomach for it. Not like Jesse and Leroy. Look, gotta admit, I've tried to help you as best I could. Told you everything I know. Be right grateful if you could put in a good word for me with Judge Parker.”

Nodded, then said, “Not sure it'll help much, but I'll do what I can.”

“Do appreciate it, sir. Sure wouldn't want to hang for three or four killings I didn't commit, you know.”

“Well, Benny, might've been to your advantage if you had got away from your brothers. Wouldn't be in the fix you find yourself in right now.”

“Yeah. Yeah. You're right. But, there's nothing as powerful as blood, Marshal Tilden. Hard to get away from blood. Nothing like it to bind you to other people.”

Twirled on my heel, had the doorknob to the office in my hand when I heard Benny say, “Best take care around Leroy. Man's dangerous in the extreme. He'll kill a feller in a heartbeat. Laugh while he's killin' a man who's carrin' a reputation like yours.”

NEVER HAVE BEEN one of those folks who subscribed to the idiotic notion that “everything kind of happens for a reason.” Near as I've been able to tell—good, bad, or indifferent—life just comes to pass. Seems to me as though day-to-day events often have a tendency to simply lie in wait for our unknowing, blind arrival, ready to pounce on us like wild, stalking animals.

At times it's almost as if God himself hides in an alleyway like any common highwayman, ax handle in hand, waiting for us to come along so he can jump out and knock the bejabbers out of us. Nothing we can do about any of it, except try like blue-eyed hell to survive whatever He throws our direction. Am convinced that what happened on the way to Fort Worth is illustrative of that philosophical conviction.

Spent the rest of the day, after we'd had our little heart-to-heart with Benny Coltrane, getting ourselves packed, primed, and ready for the trip to Texas. Kissed Elizabeth good-bye early the next morning. Could tell the girl was none too happy about me leaving on another raid south before she had adjudged my recovery as complete and worthy of her approval. But, as had been true in many a case in the past, she accepted the inevitable, albeit with a forced smile and creased forehead. Held me close and whispered undying love into my ear before we parted. Was a difficult leave-taking and weighed heavily on my thoughts and heart for days afterward.

Couldn't have picked a better morning to begin our journey. Sun came up behind cotton boll clouds like a polished, solid-gold coin. Met Carlton and Nate down by the river not far from the courthouse. Ferried our animals across, then took a leisurely ride over to the Katy line's depot in Checotah.

Carl didn't complain, but I could tell that his sore rump still bothered him a mite more than he would have liked. Being as how all three of us nursed wounds of various sorts, the man wouldn't have grumbled about his situation no matter how irritating or miserable his circumstance.

Arrived in Checotah little before noon that day. Thick bank of greenish-black clouds had come in from the west, by then. Loaded our animals and gear onto a freight car attached to the M.K. & T.'s Flyer, headed for Fort Worth.

Only other passengers I took note of when we boarded were a couple of young Indian fellers dressed in suit coats, white shirts, and flat-brimmed black hats. They had seats on either side of the center aisle near the day coach's back door. Two or three white chaps, who looked like drummers of some sort, sat scattered about here and there.

An Indian girl who appeared to be traveling alone didn't look up when we passed. Couldn't see anything but the back of her head as I walked by. There was also an elderly gentleman, who had an enormous, bright orange pumpkin on the seat between him and his traveling companion—a round-faced, big-eyed boy of about ten years. They occupied seats a little over midway down the aisle toward the rear of the coach.

Carl and I took vacant spots not far from the old man and boy. Sat side by side. Carl brought that gold-fringed silk pillow for his still-aching behind. Couldn't say as I blamed him much. Always felt those damned coach benches back then had been specifically designed by Satan's most malevolent, red-eyed imps especially to torment the unwary traveler. Being as how we'd just spent half a day in the saddle, those harder-than-frozen-turtle-shell seats didn't help my sore-tailed amigo's tender condition at all. Grimaced as he settled into his fluffed-up nest, but didn't say anything.

Seats in the Katy line's passenger cars back then were arranged in pairs, facing each other. So, Nate took the spot across from us next to the sizable pile of our stacked goods. Mountain of traveling necessities consisted of saddlebags, rain slickers, shotguns, rifles, ammunition, and foodstuffs. 'Course, there might've been a bottle, or two, of bonded-in-the-barn jig juice in there, somewhere, as well.

Our collective skinny behinds had barely hit those uncomfortable, badly upholstered, torturous, coach benches when the M.K. & T.'s massive, thirty-five-ton, eight-wheeled Baldwin Mogul locomotive vented a torrential cloud of white steam that wafted past our window. Great iron beast thundered to life, shook heaven and earth, and gradually began creeping away from the Checotah depot.

Passenger coach, four other cars carrying freight, and the caboose, snapped against their couplings in a series of thumping, metallic cracks. Whole shebang trailed along like individual links in a slow-moving, snakelike chain being dragged south by a rumbling, monstrous, man-made demon that belched endless plumes of roiling black smoke from its gigantic stack.

For reasons I never understood, trains, moving or not, always had a decidedly narcotic effect on Carlton J. Cecil. Soon as the man took a seat and propped his head against the window, he invariably fell into a deep, childlike sleep. No point trying to carry on a conversation with him five minutes after leaving any depot in the continental United States.

Given a decided lack of conscious company, I was about to prop my feet on our pile of goods and take a nap myself. Glanced over and noticed that Nate's misty-eyed gaze was locked on something over my shoulder. Swear 'fore Jesus, the man had that
instantaneously infatuated
look plastered on his face, typical of someone who's just seen a beautiful woman and can't take his eyes off her. Twisted around at the waist in an effort to get a gander at what had so galvanized his undivided, slack-jawed attention. Lord God, but I didn't have to look far.

In the seat behind us, that Indian gal we'd walked past turned out to be one of the most beautiful people I'd ever laid eyes on. Enormous, soft brown eyes gifted me with an open, friendly gaze that came from a flawless, tawny, full-lipped face. Her stunning countenance was framed by shimmering, ebon-colored hair that cascaded onto girlish shoulders and ran down her back in a river of gleaming black.

She sported fancy ear-drop decorations comprised of a trio of multicolored, dangling discs that matched an elaborate, woven, or perhaps crocheted, necklace of red, white, yellow, and dark blue. Broad as a man's hand, her intricate choker served to enhance a flowing turquoise dress trimmed in brilliant white embroidered stitching. A belt, that matched the necklace with precise exactness, encircled a waist so slight a grown man could have easily encircled it with his hands.

Appearing unspoiled by a world she likely knew little of, the fantastically beautiful girl sat alone, slim-fingered hands primly crossed in her lap. A mysterious and enigmatic smile danced across youthful, naturally ruby-colored lips. The entire glorious package easily proved more than enough to command the attention of any male not headed for direct and immediate burial.

Glanced back at Nate. Grinned and said, “She's a beauty, all right. Perhaps the most beautiful thing I've seen since the day I met Elizabeth when I first arrived in Fort Smith. Somewhat surprising, though, that she appears to be traveling alone. Would've thought an Injun gal of such rare beauty would be accompanied by a chaperon of some sort—friend or relative. Someone to protect and see after her well-being, you know.” And then, more to myself more than anyone else, added, “Given the state of outlawry 'round these parts, no girl as looks like that should be traveling the Nations all by her lonesome.”

Swords, who looked like he'd just homesteaded a big, puffy, white cloud, flushed, squirmed in his seat, picked at lint on his pants, then went to eyeballing his feet. “Yeah. She's right pretty, and that's a pure fact. Can't say as how I've ever seen anything to match her. Got any idea what tribe she's from, Hayden? Can you determine anything from her outfit?”

“Choctaw, near as I can tell. But don't take my word on it. Not much of an expert on the subject, to be absolutely truthful.” Jerked a thumb Carl's direction. “Our resident authority and trail mate's asleep. Probably won't wake up till the train stops moving. And maybe not even then.”

Swords shot another fleeting, nervous glance at the girl, fidgeted, then went to staring at his toes again. “She sure is somethin', Tilden. Sure is somethin'. Don't think I've ever seen anything quite like her.”

“Gal's done got you repeating yourself, Nate.” Leaned over and whispered, “Why don't you stroll on over? See if you can engage that pretty little thing in a bit of friendly conversation. No parents to cramp your style as I can see. Bet she'll enjoy the company of a handsome young feller like you.”

Nate appeared surprised and slightly embarrased by my suggestion. “Think she'd talk to me?”

“Well, you sure as the dickens won't find out sitting here with a couple of old married farts like me and Carl. Got a long trip ahead of us, son. Nigh on ten hours, or so. If I were you, and had any interest at all in that sweet young thing, I'd be back there in a hummingbird's heartbeat. Hell of a lot better than sitting back here telling lies about how you're gonna grill up a batch of raccoons for me.”

He grinned, rifled a narrowed gaze around me again. Got a sudden and resolute look about him. Pulled at the brim of his hat, then stood. “Wish me luck,” he said and stepped into the aisle.

Heard them exchanging pleasantries a few seconds later. Couldn't tell exactly what was said, though. Just know he didn't come back, and after a couple of minutes, I snuck a glance to see that he'd taken a seat with his back to me, and that the beautiful girl was smiling.

Must've dozed off myself. Woke to find that we were no longer moving. Figured we couldn't have gone all that far. Peered out the window. Looked as though the train had pulled onto the Nickel Creek siding a bit south of McAlester. Reckoned as how a northbound would come flying past just about anytime. Stood, stretched my back a bit, then dropped into the seat Nate had vacated.

Looked up and noticed that the Choctaw girl's smile had turned into flirtatious laughter. Felt pretty sure if she had batted those eyes at me the way she batted them at Nate, would've had the exact same effect that it appeared to be having on him.

Pushed back into the seat, went to pull my hat down over my eyes. Up front, train car door popped open and slammed hard against the wall. Couple of young Indian types, who looked like the twins of those sitting at the back of the coach a few seats behind me and Carlton, entered with a cocked pistol in each hand.

Didn't really register at the time, but the leader of those gunnies had a scarlet-colored sash tied around his skinny waist. Should've recognized Buford Cougar as soon as he stepped through the door, but didn't.

Looking back on that day's surprising and deadly events, from the vantage point of full knowledge, still can't, to this minute, believe I'd grown so unawares and dull witted in the short time Carlton, Nate, and I'd spent sitting on my veranda playing checkers and nursing our individual hurts. But hell, that's exactly what you can expect from inactivity and enforced relaxation.

Saw Nate swing his attention the grinning gunmen's direction. Watched, from the corner of my eye, as he stiffened and pushed himself hard against the seat back. Way I had it figured, Nate saw the exact same things I did and at about the same instant. Behind the brace of cocked pistols those Indian fellers carried stood men whose eyes were flat, dead, emotionless, and downright frightening.

With as little in the way of movement as I could pull off, kicked the bejabbers out of Carl's closest foot. His eyes popped open like a set of paper window shades in a parlor house bedroom.

“Wha . . . what, what the hell's goin' on?” he growled. “Why'd you go a-kickin' on me like that, Tilden? Dreamin' 'bout the first time I seen Judith. Remember. She 'uz nekkid, bathin' herself in . . .”

Shushed him into silence about the time the boys at the back of the car, who'd started out riding with us, hopped up with pistols in their hands, too. At almost the exact same instant, one of the pair up front, feller wearing the red sash called out, loud enough to be heard from one end of the car to the other, “All you white devils shoulda done figured it out by now. This here's a robbery. Best go to gettin' your money out and handin' it over.” Boy had a kind of strange, spine-chilling smile on his face when he made his announcement. That's when it finally came to me who he was.

Carlton socked his hat down, then blinked a couple of times to clear his head. Even though all he could see was the pair of gunnies behind me, he took in the whole state of affairs in a matter of a few eye-blinking seconds, then whispered, “Well, this here situation goes way beyond stupid, Tilden. These silly bastards don't have any idea what they've gotten themselves into.”