Gun Work: The Further Exploits of Hayden Tilden (15 page)

Conductor Bankhead stepped forward and offered as how, during the attempted robbery, he'd seen a feller standing near the caboose holding the reins on five horses. I figured Edgar Sampson must've bolted soon as the serious shooting started. Given the passage of a few days, Carl and I both felt sure he would disappear into the unassigned territories never to be seen again.

Sent a short telegram to Mr. Wilton. Explained that we'd been unavoidably delayed. Said we'd lay over till the girl's family came in to claim her body—which Amos Studdard made arrangement to have placed in a local ice house.

Nate wanted to stick around Atoka and attend whatever went for a final service for Little Cloud. But after a day and a half of idle time in that train depot, with nothing to do but wear out a checkerboard, walk the floor, or play cards, Carlton was about ready to bite the head off a hammer. Unfortunately, Little Cloud's kin never showed. Studdard pulled me aside and ventured the guess that the girl was unexpected, and that her family might take as much as a week to locate. Took some serious talking, but we finally persuaded Nate that we needed to be on our way—get on down to Fort Worth.

Have not the slightest clue how he managed the feat, but before we got headed out again Amos Studdard put every M.K. & T. employee in Atoka to work cleaning up the mess in that shot-to-pieces passenger car. Arranged to have it parked on a siding and had everything except a bullet hole here and there repaired in right short order. Got it added onto a southbound rattler a little after noon a day and a half after we first arrived.

Engineer laid the spur to that big ole Baldwin locomotive and by the time we reached Denison, felt as though we'd left most of the unexpected sorrow we'd encountered behind. Don't think Nate said half a dozen words till after we crossed over the Red River.

Even back in them days, I never was much of one for omens and such. But our fateful trip south had started out about as badly as it could have, and as we passed over the Red River I had a malevolent, prickling sensation run up and down the back of my neck. At the time, felt that watching a beautiful young woman with her whole life ahead of her die in a friend's arms might've had something to do with it. Not sure, and truth be told, it didn't really matter. Was just that those events set me to wondering just how much worse things might get before we made it back home. By then I'd decided it was time that Nate Swords knew everything there was to know about the Brotherhood of Blood.

TRAIN CLATTERED ALONG between Denison and Denton. Soothing rhythm and vibration of the tracks surged up through the floor and set a man's head to lolling back and forth. Rolling, hilly, tree-poor countryside of stunted bushes and dry grass slid by my window. Wedge-shaped, greenish-black thundercloud had crawled over the horizon in the west, and was rapidly turning daylight into near dark. That ugly, churning, morass of water-logged clouds further dampened our already depressed spirits and appeared on a course to blow directly over the top of us. Coming storm dropped glittering, pointed spikes of pitchfork lightning in every direction followed by distant, rumbling, earth-thumping thunder. Spotted terrified animals darting, here and there, out front of the rapidly approaching tempest.

Elbowed Carl back into wakefulness, then said, “Well, you've been pushing me to do this for a spell now. Think it's time we told Nate 'bout the Brotherhood.”

He yawned, stretched, then flashed me a pleased grin. “ 'S good by me.”

Jerked a thumb toward the back of the car. “Got up about ten minutes ago. Think he strolled out onto the platform. Might be having himself a smoke. Or maybe he just wanted to be alone. Why don't you go round him up? We'll sit the boy down and tell him the whole tale.”

Carl came erect like an unfolding carpenter's rule. Slapped his hat on and said, “Good idea. Maybe what we've got to tell him will take his mind off Little Cloud for a few minutes.” He wobbled to the rear door of the day coach and, in less than a minute, he and Nate swayed back to our set of gear-laden seats. Overdose of supreme woe showed on our morose young friend's face like a set of deep, self-imposed scars.

He flopped down in the seat across from me and socked his hat onto one knee. “What is it? Whatta you want, Hayden?”

Shot Carl a quick glance. He shook his head and shrugged, as if to say, “Swear 'fore Jesus I didn't say nothin', Tilden. Not a single enlightening word.”

Fingers knitted in my lap, I leaned Nate's direction and said, “Sure you recall the terrible circumstances surrounding my and Carlton's decision to take you into our group.”

Nate gifted me with an unenthusiastic tilt of the head. “Brought me on board when Selby Hillhouse murdered your friend, Billy Bird. The resulting search for Maynard Dawson, Charlie Storms, and Cotton Rix was my first trip to Fort Worth and Hell's Half Acre. Still believe that jaunt was the serious beginning of my real, genuine education as a deputy U.S. marshal. Everything up till then didn't amount to a hill of beans. Hadn't been for you boys, I'd most likely still be spending the majority of my time chasing horse thieves and whiskey runners.”

Slid onto the edge of my seat. “Thing you don't know, mainly because Carl and I've had a bit of difficulty dealing with the death of our good friend Marshal Bird, is that the three of us made up a very select and special group of men. A trio of law bringers like none other in the whole of Judge Parker's cadre of deputy marshals.”

The spark of growing interest began to show in Nate's eyes. As he pushed up in his seat, I shot a glance out the window over his shoulder and saw a knifelike blade of heavenly fire fall from thick, soot-black clouds five miles away. Rumble of thunder took several seconds to get to us. Window rattled when the wavelike bump of dense air finally hit.

Elbows resting on his knees, Nate edged closer to me. Leather complained when he rearranged his pistol belt. “You know there've always been rumors about you boys, Tilden. Persistent, dark, strange rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“Oh, nothing definitive. Little more'n old ladies' gossip, I always felt. All 'bout how you fellers rarely bring anyone back alive when you go out on a manhunt. Figured if such tales amounted to anything at all you'd let me in on the secret, when you got good and ready.” Then, as if fearing he might have overstepped his bounds an inch or two, he added, “That is what we're talkin' 'bout here, isn't it?”

Conversation fell into whispers when I said, “Before this goes any farther, Nate, I must insist that you swear on your honor that what we're about say to you will never be repeated. And I do mean never. Even if you decide against inclusion, you must swear that you'll not reveal what you hear from the two of us today. You've got to agree with this most important condition before we can continue and talk about anything else.”

“Okay. Sure. I'll . . .”

“No. Don't comply so quickly, so easily. This is, perhaps, the most serious matter to confront you in your entire life. I think that you, at the very least, should give it a few seconds' thought. Because once you've heard what Carl and I are about to say, your life will never be the same again. You will be forever changed, and that's not stretching this business in the least.”

A nervous grin etched its way onto Nate's twitching lips. “Well, damn, that sounds right ominous.”

Carl perked up and added, “He's not kidding, Nate. This is grave business. Story you'll hear, and the life-changing proposition we'll ask you to consider, could prove the most significant event in your life up till this very instant.”

Fleeting look of momentary confusion flickered across Swords's pinched brow. He pawed at the stubble on his chin, then stared at the day coach's ceiling for near a minute. Wagged his head, like an old dog looking for someone to scratch the back of his neck, then said, “It sounds most intriguing, to say the least, Tilden. Can't wait to hear what you boys have got to tell me. So, why don't you go on ahead and spit it out.”

Shook my head. “Not until you raise your hand and swear before God, Carlton J. Cecil, and me, that what you're about to be told won't go any farther than the seat where you sit.”

Behind a sheepish grin, Nate raised his right hand. “I swear 'fore Almighty God, I won't mention anything we talk about today to a living soul.” As his hand dropped back into his lap, he added, “That good enough. Work for you?”

Glanced over at Carl for his approval, then said, “Several years ago I arrived at a confidential agreement with Judge Parker himself. I became what you might call the secret instrument of justice's righteous fury when all else fails. In essence, Deputy Marshal Hayden Tilden acts as the final arbiter of life and death for those malevolent souls considered beyond the reach of the law, as we know it. For those men who feel they have no limits to their behavior, I am the limit. My commissions in this area are delivered to me by way of the judge's chief bailiff, Mr. Wilton. He acts as a necessary buffer between me and the judge.”

Let my somewhat confounding pronouncement sit on him a few seconds before adding, “After a number of bloody and difficult undertakings in this area, I came to realize that, given the depraved depth of lawlessness in the Nations, the assigned tasks often required the attention of more than one man. As a consequence, unbeknownst to Judge Parker, or Mr. Wilton, I enlisted Carlton to assist me in my efforts. Eventually, after due consideration, we took Billy Bird in as well. Sworn to the deepest of secrecy, we began calling our small, elite circle the Brotherhood of Blood.”

Nate's head snapped back. “And you're saying that you want me to become a part of this
Brotherhood
?”

“Yes.”

“Well, while I think I understand what you just told me, what, exactly, would membership in the Brotherhood entail?”

Motioned for Carl to take up the conversation. Figured the details of our agreement would sound better coming from him. He sat up in his seat and glanced around the coach as if to make sure no one was listening in, then said, “Anytime Hayden receives one of these
special
projects, Wilton gives him the discretion to pick whoever he wants to help out.”

Nate tapped the brim of his hat with a nervous finger. “Goes a long way to explaining why you three spent so much time together. And why whispered rumors have always persisted that Tilden didn't necessarily have to bring 'em back when he went out after 'em.”

“Yes, and no one appears to have cared, one way or the other, that in all the cases in the past, Billy and I were the ones Hayden picked to accompany him on his searches.”

“Never gave it any thought myself.”

“Good. Now, here's the piece that might prove the most important part of what we want you to know. Out of his own pocket, Hayden will pay you and me an additional amount equivalent to the rate we earn for our services as deputy U.S. marshals. And he will personally see to it that we all share equally in any rewards and postings on wanted men, whether we deliver them dead or alive. In this deal, there's none of that ole crap about, well, you killed 'em, you don't get a dime from the government, and buryin' 'em is your expense and responsibility.”

At that point I felt it necessary to interrupt. Waved Carl into silence and said, “See, Nate, in most cases we don't usually go out to bring anyone back. In every instance, thus far, the crimes of the accused were believed to be so far beyond the pale that we were sent to dispatch them. Feeling has always prevailed that once our job is done there must be no chance for time and a smart lawyer to put the most evil among us back into the midst of an unwary public.”

Nate scratched his head. “But that's not the case on this run, is it? Did I misunderstand, or haven't we been sent out to bring the Cassidy girl back to Fort Smith?”

From the corner of his mouth, Carl hissed, “That's true enough. But should we run Jesse and Leroy Coltrane to ground, while searching for Daisy Cassidy, they won't be dragged back for a trial by their peers and the kind attentions of hangman George Maledon.”

Could see the cogs and wheels in Nate's well-honed thinker mechanism whirling. He bent forward, both elbows on his knees, and stared at the toes of his boots. Scratched his head again. Then, after some more thought, he sat back into his seat and pinned me to my spot with a narrow-eyed gaze.

“Tell you what, Tilden. This is just the kind of job I'd hoped for when I first took up the badge. Deep down I've always believed that unvarnished vengeance was the way to go. Wanted someone to turn me loose. Slip my leash. But it didn't take long for me to realize that once we'd caught the sorry bastards and brought 'em back for trial, they just might well get turned out for us to have to go out and catch again.”

Great wave of relief swept over me. “So, can we take it that Nate Swords is the newest member of the Brotherhood of Blood?”

“Damn right you can. I'm your man, Tilden. While I'm sure there are others who'd run from such a proposition like their hair was on fire, I ain't one of 'em. Place my hand on the family Bible and swear my faith in this project, if you'd like. Want to know why?”

Carl let out a happy snort. Slapped Swords on the leg. “Well, even if Tilden don't want to hear your story, I sure as hell do.”

“Every man has his own reasons for taking on such difficult responsibilities, Nate. I'm sure you have yours. There's no real need, or requirement, for you to explain yourself—unless you just feel compelled to do so.”

A subtle hardness formed at the corners of our newest member's eyes. “First real killer I had to go out after was a skunk named Big Bob Stackhouse.”