Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles (3 page)

“
Sí
,” El Lobo agreed. “This be my country now. I fight for it.”

“Nathan Stone felt the same way,” said Silver. “May God bless the both of you.”

Two days after Silver's departure, Wes and El Lobo checked out of the hotel. It was three hours before the steamboat would leave for New Orleans, but they needed the time to take their horses from the livery and get them aboard. Nobody seemed to notice them as they led their mounts toward the landing. Empty lagged behind, not liking the shriek of the steamboat whistles.

“I no ride steamboat before,” El Lobo said. “What it be like?”

“It's a fast way to travel,” said Wes, “but mostly it's just waiting. Kind of like at the hotel, except it floats. There'll be a dining hall where we eat, and a room just big enough for two bunks.”

“It be hell of place for ambush,” El Lobo said.

“I've thought of that,” said Wes. “After what Silver's told us, we'll likely be jumping at shadows.”

“
Sí
,” El Lobo said, “and we must, for we not know when the shadow have a gun.”

They reached the steamboat landing without incident and found the boat docked, for it was being loaded with freight. Wes bought their tickets, made arrangements for their horses, and had them led aboard. Eventually another horse was brought to the landing. Wes and El Lobo stared at the animal in admiration, for it was solid black except for a single white sock on its left front foot. The animal was led by a gray-haired man accompanied by a young woman who looked maybe half his age. Suddenly Empty came to life. With a glad yelp he ran toward the man leading the black, and startled, the horse reared.

“Empty,” Wes shouted, “no.”

But the black was soon under control and the reins were passed to the girl. The man had hunkered down and was ruffling Empty's ears.

“Come on,” said Wes. “They know one another.”

As Wes and El Lobo approached, the stranger got to his feet, his unbelieving eyes on Wes Stone.

“My dog seems to know you,” Wes said.

“He should,” said the stranger. “I raised him from a pup, and my late wife named him Empty.”

“Then you knew Nathan Stone, my father,” Wes said.

“For many years, and as fine a friend as a man ever had. I'm Barnabas McQueen, and this is my wife, Vivian. We have a horse ranch near New Orleans. The horse is Flash, and he won his first race at the fair grounds yesterday.”
¹

“My pleasure, meeting you,” said Wes. “I'm Wes Stone, and this is my
amigo,
El Lobo. Our horses are already aboard, and we're bound for New Orleans. I'd like to spend some time with you on the boat and have you tell me as much as you can about Nathan Stone, my father. That is, if you don't mind.”

“I don't mind in the least,” said McQueen.

“Nathan is dead, then,” Vivian said, speaking for the first time.

“Yes,” said Wes. “He was gunned down in El Paso this past June.”

“That's what we feared,” McQueen said.

“It comes as no surprise,” said Vivian. “For every friend, Nathan seemed to have a dozen enemies, all of them wanting him dead.”

While Wes didn't know of her relationship to Nathan, he had his suspicions, for there was bitterness and regret in her eyes, and Barnabas McQueen seemed suddenly uncomfortable. Wes spoke.

“He didn't die at the hands of his enemies, ma‘am. They were mine. I wore the badge in El Paso, and a gang of border outlaws came after me. He sided me, meeting them in the street. There were fifteen men against us—impossible odds—and they shot him to pieces. I shot my way to him, but he was already dead. He knew me, but I never knew him as my father until he was dead.”
²

“My God,” McQueen said, “it's the kind of unselfish thing Nathan Stone would have done. What became of the outlaws?”

“I followed them into Mexico,” said Wes. “That's where I met El Lobo. They tried to kill him, and he threw in with me.”

“You found and killed them all?” Vivian asked.

It was a foolish, unnecessary question, and Wes said nothing. McQueen again looked uncomfortable, and it was he who spoke.

“We'd better get Flash aboard. There'll be plenty of time for talk between here and New Orleans.”

Empty took a few steps toward the gangplank, as though to follow McQueen, but he turned back and sat watching as the black horse was led aboard.

“He remembers,” said El Lobo.

“Yes,” Wes said, “and I envy him. All I know of my father is what I can learn from those who knew him.”

“There be plenty time to talk on steamboat,” said El Lobo. “You per‘ap learn much in three days.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” Wes said.

So elated was he, having met McQueen, that he failed to notice two men wearing tied-down Colts. They had just bought tickets and were covertly eyeing Wes and El Lobo....

The big stern-wheeler, with a blast from its whistle, backed away from the landing on schedule. Wes and El Lobo, accompanied by a skittish Empty, had gone to their cabin until the craft was under way. As Wes had predicted, the quarters were extremely cramped.

“We don't stay here all the time?” El Lobo asked hopefully.

Wes laughed. “No, we can spend as much time on deck as we like. I doubt McQueen's cabin is any bigger than ours. We'll have to do our visiting elsewhere. Come on, let's get out of here. Empty's ready to abandon ship.”

They found McQueen already on deck, watching the muddy water of the Mississippi roll off the huge paddle wheel. He was alone, and seemed glad to see them.

“Vivian decided to stay in the cabin,” said McQueen. “Not me. It's so confining. I can barely stand it long enough to sleep there.”

“How long have you been racing horses?” Wes asked.

“Most of my life,” said McQueen. “The first time I saw your father, he and a lady—Eulie Prater—showed up at my place. My late wife Bess rented them one of our cabins for a few days. I mention Eulie because she could gentle horses like nobody I've ever seen before or since. Nathan met a government man in town—Bryan Silver—and Silver had some men gunning for him. Nathan saved Silver's bacon but ended up neck-deep in trouble with Silver's enemies. Nathan threw in with Silver, leaving Eulie with Bess and me. I had a big black that I couldn't handle, but Eulie gentled him and rode him in many a race.”

“I know Silver,” Wes said, “and he told me about the trouble in New Orleans, but he didn't mention Eulie. What became of her?”

“The gambling syndicate that was after Nathan tried to fix a race by ambushing the lead rider. Eulie was shot and died after crossing the finish line. Nathan blamed himself, and I don't think he ever got over her. Silver was shot in the same ambush, and Nathan took it upon himself to settle the score with those responsible.”
³

“He
bueno hombre,”
said El Lobo.

“He was that and more,” McQueen said. “He fought for his friends, and damn the odds. Once, Bess and me had been ambushed by horse thieves and left for dead. Nathan found us, got us to a doctor, and then took the trail of the four thieves. He tracked them all the way to Arkansas and returned with our stolen horses.”

McQueen talked until the steamboat's bell called them to supper.

“I'd better go wake Vivian,” said McQueen. “I'll see you in the dining hall.”

Wes led Empty to the kitchen, where he had made provisions for the dog to be fed. El Lobo had taken a table, and when Empty had eaten, he and Wes joined the Indian. There was still no sign of Barnabas McQueen.

“Wonder where McQueen is?” Wes speculated.

“His woman no like you,” said El Lobo.

“I know,” Wes said. “I suspect there was more between her and my father than she wants me to know, and seeing me brought back times she'd just as soon forget. McQueen didn't like the way she looked at me.”

“He be old, she be young,” said El Lobo.
“Malo.”

“She'll likely avoid us from here to New Orleans,” Wes said. “After that, we won't be seeing them again, even if we wanted to. If Silver's right, they could be in great danger from men stalking us.”

The supper hour passed without any sign of the McQueens, and the dining hall began to empty. El Lobo caught Wes's eye and the Indian nodded almost imperceptively. Clumsily Wes dropped a spoon, and when he bent to retrieve it he caught a brief glimpse of the two men who sat at a nearby table.

“They watch us,” El Lobo said softly.

“I think you're right,” said Wes. “They're tryin' almighty hard not to seem all that interested in us. Let's take a walk on deck, out near the stern. If they're after us, we'll give them a chance to make their play.”

Wes and El Lobo were near the huge paddle wheel, well beyond the last of the hanging bracket lamps, when the two strangers emerged from the dining hall. They paused by the ship's rail for a moment and then began a slow walk along the deck, toward the stern. Wes and El Lobo moved forward until they were within the shadow of the hurricane deck, and there they waited, half a dozen feet apart. The two gunmen halted thirty feet away, and one of them spoke.

“Got a match?”

As they drew their guns, Wes and El Lobo went belly-down on the deck, their Colts roaring. Lead sang over their heads, and then but for the sound of dropped weapons and two bodies collapsing, there was silence.

“Over the side with them,” said Wes. “We may have only a few seconds.”

Each of them seized one of the dead men, and dragging them well away from the big paddle wheel, heaved them over the side into the muddy water of the Mississippi. Quickly they threw the weapons in after them and hurried along the deck toward the entrance to the dining hall and the narrow corridor that led to their cabins. But they didn't quite make it. A curious cook met them.

“I though I heard shooting,” he said.

“So did we,” said Wes. “It must have been onshore. We decided to go inside. Might be dangerous out here.”

“So it might,” the man said, seemingly satisfied.

Quickly Wes and El Lobo made their way toward their cabin. Before the shooting had begun, Empty had made himself scarce. Now he was at their heels. Once in their cabin, El Lobo lighted a lamp while Wes locked and bolted the door.

“Now,” said Wes, “we'd better clean and reload our weapons. There's no chance of us reaching New Orleans without that pair of varmints being missed.”

“Nobody see us,” El Lobo said, “and there be no law.”

“On any vessel—steamboat or oceangoing ship—the captain is the law,” said Wes. “If it comes to an investigation, that cook will remember hearing shots, and he'll remember us being on deck at the time. Our weapons must be able to stand inspection, in case we're suspected. Now let's hit these bunks and hope that pair don't have friends aboard who'll begin wondering where they are.”

 

The McQueens joined Wes and El Lobo for breakfast, and apparently the dead gunmen hadn't been missed.

“I'm going to stay on deck for a while,” Vivian said when the meal was over. “I'm so tired of that cabin.”

“I'm going below and see how Flash is getting along,” said McQueen. “Do either of you want to come with me?”

“I go,” El Lobo said with a meaningful look at Wes.

When McQueen and El Lobo had gone, Wes put down his coffee cup and his eyes met Vivian's.

“How well did you know my father?” he asked.

“Entirely too well,” said Vivian. “He found me in Dodge, half starved and near naked but for a pair of worn-out shoes and the dress I was wearing. My only brother had come West after the war, and after my parents died, I came looking for him. My money ran out in Dodge. Nathan took me in, bought me clothes, and fed me. He bought me a horse and saddle, and when he left for Dakota Territory, I went with him. By some miracle, we found my brother in Deadwood, riding shotgun on the Deadwood stage and drinking himself to death. He cursed me for tracking him down and wanted nothing to do with me. He was terribly wounded during a stage holdup and wanted only to die, but Nathan wouldn't have it. He did something—said something—that brought Harley out of it. Nathan had just recently left the railroad, and when he wired Foster Hagerman in Dodge, he was able to get Harley a job.”

“Harley Stafford,” Wes said. “He taught me Morse code, how to use a gun, and got me a job with the railroad.”

“Harley thought the world of Nathan and would have ridden through the very gates of hell for him. I'm surprised he didn't see Nathan in you,” said Vivian.

“I've changed a lot since then,” Wes said. “I was just a hungry kid who'd run away from a St. Louis orphanage. I got involved in a shooting and rode out of Dodge without Harley knowing I was leaving.”

“He won't hold that against you,” said Vivian, “because that's how Nathan was. Next time you're in one of the railroad towns, talk to Harley and let him know who you are. I believe it'll be worth something to you and to him.”

“I will,” Wes said. “How did you come to live with the McQueens?”

“It was Nathan's idea,” said Vivian, “because the trails he rode had become much more dangerous. I liked the idea at first, because I had begun riding the McQueen horses, and we almost always won. But I missed the old days on the trail, even the danger, and it seemed Nathan was gone longer and returned less often. Two weeks after the last time he rode out, Bess McQueen died. That left just me and Barnabas, and it was ... well ... awkward. I didn't know if or when I'd ever see Nathan again ...”