Ralph Compton Train to Durango (4 page)

“Three rooms, I reckon,” said Silver.

Wes and El Lobo nodded. Silver dismounted and knocked on the window.

“Rooms are five dollars,” said a voice from within. “Grub at the cafe.”

“Three rooms for tonight,” Silver said.

He paid and was given the room keys. He passed one to Wes and one to El Lobo. He mounted and they rode alongside the stretched-out building until they found doors with their key numbers painted on them. Beside each door was a lighted bracket lamp.

“I like the lamps outside the doors,” Renita said.

“They are a nice touch, and considerably more than you'd expect in a mining town as new as this,” said Silver. “Having railroad service to and from Denver makes a difference.”

“We'd better find that cafe and eat,” Wes said. “It may close early.”

The entire town, such as it was, had been built alongside the railroad tracks. The cafe shared a building with a saloon, and there was no dividing wall. The saloon, it seemed, was doing a thriving business, while there was nobody but a bored cook on the cafe side.

“It's not the kind of place for ladies, under better conditions,” Silver said.

“You are considerate to think of that,” said Renita, “but we've been in worse.”

“
Sí
,“ Tamara said, “and we were not there to eat.”

“I may have to bring Empty some food,” said Wes. “He hates saloons.”

Silver laughed. “Just like his daddy before him.”

They dismounted, and as Wes had expected, Empty chose to remain with the horses. The cook nodded to them as they entered, and having their choice of tables, they took one nearest the door and farthest from the saloon. There was shouting, cursing, laughter, and the clink of glasses.

“Can't you muzzle that bunch of coyotes for a while?” Silver asked, when the cook came to take their order.

“Sorry,” said the cook. “The
hombre
that runs the saloon owns the cafe.”

After they had ordered their meals, Wes arranged for some food for Empty. When the cook brought it, Wes took it outside and fed the hound. When he returned, El Lobo was on his feet, his hands on the butts of his Colts, and his hard eyes on a pair of men in the saloon. Taking a closer look, Wes understood.

“What's going on?” Silver asked, about to rise. “Palo, are you seein' a ghost?”

“
Sí
,“ said El Lobo through clenched teeth. “Bastardos. Kill.”

“No,” Wes said. “Sit down, before they see you.”

For a moment El Lobo seemed not to have heard. Finally he sank down in his chair, his face still a mask of fury.

“It's Elias Hawk and Hobie Denbow,” said Wes. “I'd give a lot to know what that pair of varmints is doin' here.”

“No care,” El Lobo said bitterly. “Kill.”

“I understand your feelings, Palo,” said Silver, “but Wes is right. Remember, we saw their names and the name of this town written on a scrap of paper in San Francisco, after we broke into that building that was Golden Dragon headquarters. Somehow, they figure into this conspiracy, and when all the dust settles, we'll be coming back to them.”

El Lobo, listening to Silver, had begun to relax, but there were still beads of sweat on his rugged face.

“We know where they are, Palo,” Wes said, “and before we can nail the Dragon's hide to the wall, we'll be comin' after them. You'll get your chance.”

“If they're part of this terrible organization,” said Renita, “why are we on our way to Dodge City, by way of Boulder, Colorado? Why don't you simply arrest these two and make them tell you where the others are?”

Silver laughed. “You are a lady with a head on your shoulders. It looks as though the two
hombres
over there in the saloon are headquartered here, so we can likely come after them any time. We're on our way to Dodge for several reasons. First, we aim to hide you and Tamara out among friends. Second, before leaving Denver, we must follow up a lead there. We believe we have the name of the man who hired the four killers who were planning to bushwhack Wes and Palo near Santa Fe.”

“This varmint in Denver, if he's still there, will be much more important to us than Hawk or Denbow,” said Wes.

“Right,” Silver said, “and while Hawk and Denbow may recognize you and Palo as having escaped their mine, is there any reason why they should suspect you're fighting the Golden Dragon?”

“None that I know of,” said Wes. “Why?”

“They may figure into this much stronger than we suspect, and in some ways that may become obvious as we get deeper into it,” Silver said. “Let's eat and get out of here just as quickly as we can, and with any luck, we can avoid them until train time tomorrow.”

“No like to hide,” said El Lobo grimly.

“I realize that,” Silver said, “but this is neither the time nor the place for a showdown with them. They may be more useful to us later on.”

Concluding their meal, they left the cafe as quietly as possible, without arousing any curiosity among the patrons of the adjoining saloon.

“So far, I haven't seen a livery,” said Wes.

“Neither have I,” Silver said.

When they reached the lodging house, Silver again knocked on the lighted window.

“Where can we leave our horses overnight?” Silver asked.

“Picket or hobble ‘em behind the building,” said a voice. “There's graze a plenty.”

Despite their doubts, they unsaddled their horses, allowed them to roll, and then cross-hobbled them. Their saddles and bedrolls they took to their rooms.

“I hope we can board the train tomorrow and get away from here without trouble,” Renita said, when she and Wes were alone in their room.

“So do I,” said Wes. “Like El Lobo, I feel that we owe Hawk and Denbow something, but I can see Silver's side of it. If we made any such move now, it would draw attention to us without helping our cause. We'll have the Dragon gunning for us soon enough.”

“Now I am afraid,” Renita said.

“I'm sorry,” said Wes. “I shouldn't have said that.”

“Yes, you should,” Renita said. “I'm afraid for you, but I don't want you keeping the truth from me. Me not knowing won't make it any less dangerous for you.”

“Someday all this will be behind us,” said Wes.

“Will it? Silver didn't seem to think so. That's why he's giving up his post and going back to Texas. Will we ever have a place of our own, where I don't have to worry about you having to shoot someone, or having someone shoot you?”

“I don't know,” Wes said. “I won't believe Silver's giving up and returning to Texas, until he's done it.”

“If he does,” said Renita, “will that change your way of thinking?”

“Maybe,” Wes said.

“I keep remembering something Molly Horrel said, after your father was killed, when you had ridden away to avenge his death. She said you would ride the same lonely trails that Nathan had, and that you would die with a gun in your hand, in the street of some dirty little border town.”

“Damn her,” Wes shouted, “she's never liked me. She had no business telling you such as that.”

“She didn't tell me,” said Renita. “I overheard her talking to Granny Boudleaux. But can you face me and say she didn't tell the truth?”

“I reckon I can't,” Wes said. “Maybe you'd better think on that some more, before we stand before a preacher and have him read from the book.”

“I have thought about it,” said Renita. “You came for me, after I'd been sold into a Mexican whorehouse, when I wanted only to die. You took me for what I was, without question. Can I do any less for you?”

Wes went to her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. Then he spoke. “Before I leave Dodge, we'll stand before a preacher.”

Silver, Wes, and El Lobo were awake before first light, and to their surprise, so were Renita and Tamara. Their horses still grazed peacefully. When they reached the cafe, several men were already there, but the saloon side had not opened for business. There was no sign of Hawk or Denbow.

“We should reach Denver late this afternoon,” Silver said. “Maybe we can conclude our business there and ride on to Boulder the next day.”

The locomotive steamed in from the south, right on time. The horses had already been taken aboard a boxcar on the siding, and it was coupled on behind the second passenger coach. The interior of the coaches was especially attractive, while the plush seats were the most comfortable Wes had ever experienced. But it was all wasted on Empty, for he found it no different from the other trains he had ridden. With a lurch of the coaches and a loud shriek of the whistle, they were off.

“I have never seen such beautiful country,” said Tamara, as the train crept along a shelf that had been blasted out of the side of a mountain. “See the river so far below.”
¹³

“I rode the rails a lot when I worked security for the AT & SF,” Wes said, “but most of it was across the Kansas plains, except for the stretch from eastern Colorado west to Boulder.”

Conversation lagged, for there was much to see and little to say. The locomotive took on water at Silverton, along with several passengers, and the train continued on its way. It reached Denver in the late afternoon. Train men opened the boxcar so that Silver, Wes, and El Lobo could lead out their horses.

“We might as well find us a place to stay the night,” said Silver. “Any ideas?”

“Let's avoid the Grand Hotel,” Wes said. “If our suspicions mean anything, somebody there might recognize us. There's generally a hotel and a livery close to the railroad depot. There's a hotel near the depot in Boulder, where Harley and me always laid over.”

“A friend of yours?” Renita asked.

“He was a friend of my father, and he's as good a friend as I ever had,” said Wes. “He's in charge of security for the railroad, as I once was. He's one reason we're taking you and Tamara to Dodge. Another good friend in Dodge is Foster Hagerman, the division chief.”

“I'm glad you have friends there,” Renita said. “I thought the world of Granny Boudleaux, but I'd be scared to death, staying in El Paso.”

“We wouldn't think of taking you back there,” said Wes. “Not after you were taken by killers hired by the Golden Dragon. Don't worry; they won't know where you are.”

After leaving their horses at a nearby stable, they walked to the Depot Hotel. Nobody seemed to notice them, but when they had taken their keys and had gone to their rooms, the desk clerk asked to be excused for supper. Instead, he hurried to the Grand Hotel, for he had information to sell.

El Paso, Texas, March 27, 1885

“Silver is fine man,” Granny Boudleax said. “You do right thing.”

“But I hate to leave you, Granny,” said Molly Horrel. “You'll be all alone.”

“No,” Granny said. “I sell this place and go to New Orleans. Live with my sister. But Nathan Stone staked me when I broke. He own half this place, which now belong to Wes.”

“I don't think Wes would take the money if you offered it to him,” said Molly. “Why don't you just consider it room and board, and wipe the slate clean?”

Parting with Granny Boudleaux was difficult, but Molly packed her few belongings in a travel case and took the next stage bound for Santa Fe. There she would take the Kansas City stage as far as Dodge. Silver had instructed her to go to the Dodge House and wait.

•   •   •

Denver, Colorado, March 27, 1885

The morning after their arrival in Denver, Silver, Wes, El Lobo, Renita, and Tamara had breakfast in a nearby cafe.

“The rest of you go back to the hotel and take Empty with you,” Wes said. “I'll find the Grand Hotel and ask about Stringfield. We might as well leave the horses where they are, until we're ready to head for Boulder.”

Wes had no trouble finding the Grand Hotel, for it was all that the name implied. The winding stairway was seldom used, for there were newly installed elevators.

“I'm looking for a friend of mine, name of Stringfield,” said Wes. “Is he still here?”

“I'll have to look it up,” the clerk said.

Wes waited while he fanned through various files. Finally he found what he was seeking and turned back to Wes.

“Would that be Rance Stringfield?”

“It would,” Wes said.

“Sorry,” said the clerk. “He checked out early this morning.”

“He left no forwarding address?”

“No,” the clerk said. “That isn't customary. When checking in, he gave an address in St. Louis, but we're not allowed to reveal such information, unless it's to the law. You're not a lawman, are you?”

“No,” said Wes. “I'm obliged, anyway.”

Leaving the Grand, he started back toward the Depot Hotel. It was still early, and the saloons hadn't yet opened. Wes stepped quickly into a cafe and took a table close to the window. The man who had been following him passed without looking his way. The waiter hadn't yet reached the table, and Wes got up, slipping out through a back entrance. Behind a fence, Wes waited. His pursuer would take only the time it took him to discover that his quarry was no longer in the cafe. As the sound of hurried footsteps came within a few yards of where Wes was concealed, he stepped out into the alley, a Colt steady in his hand.

“Are you looking for me?”

The stranger was a big man, and if he was armed, he made no play. Startled though he was, his reaction was swift. He ducked through the cafe's back door, and Wes resisted the temptation to fire. Renita and Tamara were just a few blocks away, and he had little doubt that the Golden Dragon was well aware of it. He knew now that some of the conspirators were in Denver, and there was little possibility he and his friends could reach Boulder and take the train to Dodge without being followed. Reaching the hotel, he knocked on Silver's door.

“Come on to my room,” he told Silver. “We have some planning to do.”

El Lobo had heard him in the hall and stood in the open door.

“Come on to my room, Palo, and bring Tamara with you,” said Wes.

When they were all together and the door closed, Wes told them the little he had been able to learn about Stringfield. Then, as much as he hated to, he told them of the stranger he had encountered behind the cafe.

“They follow us to Dodge,” said El Lobo.

“It looks that way,” Silver said.

“Then we'll be no safer there than we were in El Paso,” said Renita.

“But you will,” Wes said angrily. “It'll be up to Palo and me to see that you are, even if we have to pull out of this Dragon hunt and stay there with you.”

“I would not have you do that for my sake,” said Tamara. “You have promised
Señor
Silver.”

“Tamara's right,” Renita said. “Your father always kept his word. Can you do any less without being less a man than he was?”

“Damn it,” said Wes desperately, “when a man has a woman to look out for, things change. Silver doesn't have that problem.”

Silver laughed. “Oh, but Silver does. By the time we reach Dodge, Molly Horrel will be there at the Dodge House.”

“May God have mercy on you,” Wes said. “She lost one man to this bunch of outlaws in El Paso, and when she learns they're on our trail, she'll see it all coming together again. Only this time, she'll think of you lying dead with a gun in your hand, instead of Nathan Stone.”

“Do not judge her unfairly,” said Tamara. “The
Señor
Silver does not lie to her. She is aware of the risk, is she not?”

“She is,” Silver said, “but I also told her I believed she would be safe in Dodge.”

“They've taken Renita and Tamara,” said Wes, “and that didn't work. There's a chance they won't try that again.”

“We do not know that,” El Lobo said.

“But we can't rule out the possibility,” said Silver. “I think we'll have to do as we've planned, and go on to Dodge. Maybe I still have enough clout in Washington to enlist the help of the law.”

“I don't have much confidence in the law, where the Dragon's concerned,” Wes said. “I just don't believe the law will take you seriously when you suggest that these outlaws might harm our women to get back at us.”

“You say you have friends in Dodge,” said Silver. “Will they believe you, if you tell them Renita, Tamara, and Molly are in danger?”

“I expect they will,” Wes said. “When Palo and me were on our way to Carson City, a dozen gunmen stopped the train a hundred miles east of Dodge. We came out on the short end of a gun fight, and we were laid up for two weeks. I doubt my friends have forgotten that. Trouble is, Hagerman's the division chief for the railroad, and Harley's ridin' the rails and gone more than he's there.”

“There's nobody else you can count on?” Silver asked. “What about the sheriff?”

“Unless there's a different one, we can't depend on him,” said Wes. “He seemed mighty relieved when Palo and me were well enough to leave Dodge.”

“I don't want to go to a strange town and immediately become a burden,” Renita said.

“Nor do I,” said Tamara. “Get us guns and we will defend ourselves.”

“Like hell,” Wes said. “You wouldn't stand a chance against these varmints who are on our trail.”

“Not so fast,” said Silver. “The first thing I aim to do is find Molly a .31-caliber Colt pocket pistol and teach her to use it. I'm in favor of a woman defending herself, when she can, and we're up against a situation that demands it.”

“Wes,” Renita said, “I want one of those Colts.”

“
Sí
,“ said Tamara, “and so do I. If Renita and me had been armed in El Paso, those brutes would never have taken us.”

“
Bueno
,” El Lobo said.

They were all of the same mind, and Wes gave in. “Then let's buy three of those .31-caliber Colts and some ammunition before we leave Denver. I doubt we can find either in Dodge.”

“Since the Dragon knows we're here,” said Silver, “the rest of you wait while I go for the weapons. When I return, we'll all ride out for Boulder.”

“They follow you,” El Lobo said.

“Let them,” said Silver. “While I'm gone, go to the livery where the horses are. Saddle them and be ready to ride. I'll meet you there.”

•   •   •

When Gandy Franks had received word from the hotel desk clerk that their quarry was in town, Drade Hogan had left his office for the day. But Franks was already there when Hogan arrived the next morning.

“I am not surprised they're here,” said Hogan, when Franks had told what he knew, “nor am I surprised that Stone's already been to the Grand Hotel. I am disappointed, however, that you didn't assign a more reliable man to follow Stone. Now they know we are after them.”

“Clancy's as good a man as we've got,” Franks said. “He didn't know how Stone found he was bein' trailed.”

“Clancy's been seen,” said Hogan, “and he won't be worth a damn, following them. I trust you don't have him watching their hotel.”

Franks laughed nervously. “I know better than that. I had Clancy and Drake watching the place, and when Stone left, Clancy followed. Drake's still there.”

“Where are the rest of the men?”

“At our place on Cherry Creek,” Franks said. “I told ‘em to stay out of town. Last thing we want is to attract the attention of the law.”

“Have them ready to ride,” said Hogan. “I don't look for Stone and Elfego to leave their women here, and it's anybody's guess as to what we may expect from Silver.”

“He hasn't been in touch with Washington?”

“According to our contacts, not since he left California,” Hogan said, “and that worries me. Silver's the kind who's always one jump ahead.”

“Every man has some kind of weakness,” said Franks.

“When you discover Silver's, let me know,” Hogan replied. “Now stay on top of this, and don't let them get away from us.”

•   •   •

Cheyenne, Wyoming, March 27, 1885

It was near dark when Rance Stringfield rode into town. He went immediately to the Plains Hotel, as Drade Hogan had instructed him. Hogan had told him only that he was to meet a new man, and that when the meeting took place, Stringfield would understand the reason for it. Stringfield had been anxious, after the failure of the ambush he had arranged south of Santa Fe, but Hogan had seemed cheerful enough.

“Room for the night?” the hotel desk clerk inquired.

“Maybe later,” said Stringfield. “First, I must talk to a man name of Jason Hawkins. Is he here?”

“Second floor, third room on the right,” the clerk said.

Stringfield knocked on the door, and it was opened almost immediately. The lamp had not been lighted, and Stringfield's host was no more than a shadow.

“I'm Stringfield. You're Hawkins?”

“Yeah,” said the shadow. “We'll go down the hall and use the back stairs. I know of a quiet place where we can have a beer and get some grub. Then we'll talk.”

“I haven't taken a room,” Stringfield said.

“Time enough after we eat,” said Hawkins. “This place is never full.”

They left by the hotel's back entrance, and instead of a street, there was an alley that led to a cross street that was as dark as the alley itself. There were a few points of light ahead, but Hawkins turned in the opposite direction. Uneasily, Stringfield followed, staying a pace or two behind. Suddenly Hawkins stumbled and went to his knees.

“What's wrong?” Stringfield inquired.

“Turned my ankle,” said Hawkins. “Give me a hand.”

Stringfield reached for the extended hand, and when starlight glinted off the blade of the knife, it was already too late. Hawkins lunged forward, driving the deadly blade into Stringfield's belly. Stringfield collapsed to his knees, only to have the blade driven in again and again. Hawkins withdrew the blade a final time, and Stringfield fell facedown. As the blood and the life drained out of him, he fully understood the purpose of his meeting with this stranger.

•   •   •

Drake, watching the Depot Hotel, quickly recognized Silver. He had been told that if Silver and his companions left, they were to be followed. Now he was in a quandary, for only Silver was leaving. Swallowing hard, making a decision, he followed. Silver seemed in no hurry, pausing occasionally to look into a shop window. Reflection in the glass offered him a perfect opportunity to observe activity across the street. Silver was virtually certain he was being followed, but he went on. He would find a mercantile or gunsmith, purchase the guns, and then confront his pursuer. The business district was farther away than he had expected, and he was tiring when he eventually found a mercantile. It wasn't yet open for business, so he sat down on a bench to wait. Drake, his pursuer, could do nothing except continue the way he was headed. Silver laughed.

“Damn him,” Drake grunted. Somehow he would have to double back, and he couldn't allow himself to be seen again, for he would be recognized.

Silver waited half an hour for the store to open, and he saw nothing more of the man he believed was following him.

“Sorry,” said the storekeeper, when Silver had made known his needs. “Not much call for them pocket guns. I don't carry them or the shells. But there's a gunsmith just a few blocks north of here. Right across the street from the Pretty Girl Saloon.”

“Thanks,” Silver said.

There was a back door, and Silver stepped out into an alley. Seeing nobody, he crossed the alley, making his way between buildings until he reached the next cross street. Taking a roundabout way, he kept to a parallel street until he believed he had thoroughly confused the man following him. When he again crossed to the street he wanted, he could see the towering sign of the Pretty Girl Saloon. Quickly he entered the nearby gunsmith's shop.

“I can fix you up,” said the gunsmith. “I got four pocket Colts. Sure you can't use the fourth one?”

“No,” Silver said. “Just the three, and a box of shells for each of them.”

“You want holsters and belts?”

“Yes,” said Silver.

“You bought more of these little guns than I've sold since I opened for business,” the gunsmith said. “Good luck with whatever you have planned.”

Just in case his pursuer had caught up to him, Silver again went out the back way. A side street took him in the direction he wished to go, and not until he was within a block of the Depot Hotel did he cross over. Only then did he see the stranger who had followed him. The man was across the street from the hotel, under an awning, leaning against the wall of a store building. He appeared not to notice Silver.