Standoff in Santa Fe (12 page)

Burle entered Conlon's office and closed the door, leaving Trench and Alicia outside.

“Things don't seem to be going so well,” Burle said, sitting down.

Conlon got up, poured two glasses of brandy, and handed one to Burle. Then he sat behind his desk again.

“It almost did,” Conlon said. “You came in a little too late.”

“In time to hear Adams talk them all out of it,” Burle pointed out. “Not the dancing monkeys we were hoping for.”

“Without him, it would have worked,” Conlon said. “They would've started shooting. Somebody would have died. We could have owned the place where Bat Masterson died, or where Clay Allison bought it, for where Heck Thomas caught a bullet.”

“Along with a lot of innocent bystanders,” Burle said.

Conlon waved that off.

“Small cost to build a big reputation,” he said.

Burle sipped his drink.

“We'll have to send Trench after Adams,” Burle said. “Get him out of the way. It's the only answer.”

“What about the wake?” Conlon asked. “It's got to start sometime.”

“You forget,” Burle said, leaning forward. “We don't really have a body. How can we start a wake?”

“You know,” Conlon said, “when you came up with this harebrained scheme, it sounded good to me.”

“And now?”

“Now I'm not so sure.”

“Don't worry about it,” Burle said. “Just let me do the thinkin', Ben, and things will turn out all right. Now get Trench in here. I want to talk to him.”

“I already talked with him—”

“What did I just say about thinkin'?” Burle asked.

Conlon shut his mouth, frowned, then stood up and walked to the door. “Trench,” he said.

The security man entered the office. Alicia, still standing at the rail, craned her neck to get a look into the room. Conlon smiled at her and closed the door.

“Give the man a drink, Ben,” Burle said. “We're gonna talk.”

“And what are you gonna tell them downstairs? I mean, why you were in here so long?”

“Don't worry so much, Ben,” Burle said. “Just get Captain Trench a drink—a real drink.”

*   *   *

The two young deputies took up position at the near end of the bar, close to the front window, and nursed a beer each.

Clint studied the two young deputies, then looked up toward Conlon's office, where Burle had gone.

“Bass.”

“Yeah?”

Clint pointed. “Why would you hire those two as deputies?”

“I wouldn't,” Reeves said. “They're okay kids, but they'll never make good lawmen. What's your point?”

“That is my point,” Clint said. “Why would Burle hire them as deputies?”

“He said he couldn't get anybody else,” Reeves pointed out.

“In a town this size?” Clint asked. “Wouldn't you think he'd have his pick?”

“I would think that, but . . . are you sayin' what I think you're sayin'?”

Clint asked, “What do you think I'm saying?”

“That he purposely hired two young men he knows can't do the job?”

“Okay,” Clint said, “that's what I'm saying.”

“But why?”

“Now that's a question I'd really like the answer to.”

Clint and Reeves went over to the Buckskin with Bat, Luke, and Heck. Tom Horn decided to go along with them, instead of staying in the Crystal with Craddock.

Craddock, seeing Horn walk out with Clint and Bass Reeves, decided to let him go. No sense bracing him in the street with those two along. Besides, he didn't think Horn would leave town. That would look too much like running.

“Craddock?”

The bounty hunter turned, looked at Killin' Jim Miller.

“Yeah?”

“You still offerin' that money for Horn?”

“You help me take him down, I'll pass some of that bounty money on to you.”

“As long as it don't mean tanglin' with the Gunsmith,” Miller said, “you got a deal.”

“What about Allison?”

“You'll have to talk to him about that.”

Craddock looked down the bar, decided that before he talked to Clay Allison, he'd take a run at John Wesley Hardin. Of the three, he figured Hardin had the fastest gun, might have the best chance of taking the Gunsmith out of the play.

“I'll let you know,” he told Miller.

“Good enough,” Miller said, and went back to his beer.

*   *   *

“You're sayin' what?” Heck Thomas asked.

“There's no body,” Clint said. “That's why Conlon's holding up the wake.”

“Then what was the point?” Reeves asked.

“Getting men like us into town with men like Hardin, Allison, Miller, Craddock, and seeing what happens.”

“Like what almost happened in the Crystal.”

“That place would not just have been famous,” Clint said, “it would have been infamous.”

“But what if a showdown like that didn't happen in his place?” Luke Short asked.

“Then it would happen in town,” Clint said. “He still benefits when Santa Fe becomes known as the place where Bat Masterson was killed.”

“Or the Gunsmith,” Bat said.

“Right.”

“So what do we do?” Heck asked.

“We get a look at that body.”

“Which means goin' against Trench and his men,” Luke Short said.

“Right,” Clint said.

“So we get the sheriff to go in with us,” Reeves suggested.

“I've got some thoughts about him, too,” Clint said. “Goes back to what I said about him hiring inept deputies.”

“We're listening,” Bat said.

*   *   *

“Is this really what you want?” Alicia asked Conlon in his office. “A gunfight in front of your place?” She had entered while Conlon was still talking with Sheriff Burle. The lawman had stood up, doffed his hat to her, and left.

“This is exactly what I want,” he said. “Do you know the names of the men who will get killed here? They're legendary!”

“If they are legendary, how did you get Trench and his men to go against them?”

“Money,” Conlon said, “and ego. With Trench's men, it's money, but with him, it's ego. See, he wants to be a legend, and he can achieve that by killing himself some legends.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “What do you want to be? The man who put on a phony wake?”

“I want to be rich, Alicia,” Conlon said. “That's what this is all about. Inside my place, in front of my place, it's all the same to me. As long as the Gunsmith or Bat Masterson falls, I make money.”

“You're a sick man, Ben.”

“Maybe,” Conlon said, “but I'll be a rich sick man.”

*   *   *

Trench collected his best men, moved out onto the boardwalk in front of the saloon with them. He had four other men still in the room with the casket, but he didn't think they'd be pressed into service.

“What's goin' on, Trench?”

He turned his head, looked at Craddock, standing just outside the batwing doors. They knew each other, but had not spoken until now.

“What's it to you, Craddock?”

“Well,” the bounty hunter said, “if you're settin' up to do what I think you're doin', I just might join you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I got a price to collect on Tom Horn's head and I don't want anybody else getting it.”

“I don't care about no bounty money,” Trench said. “You can have it. But what makes you think Horn will come along with the others?”

Craddock shrugged and asked, “Why not?”

“You bringin' anybody with you?”

“Jim Miller.”

“I wouldn't say no to havin' him on my side,” Trench told him.

Craddock looked at the ten men Trench had with him in front of the Crystal.

“You think you got enough men?”

“I do now,” Trench said.

“We're talkin' about Clint Adams, Bat Masterson, Bass Reeves, Heck Thomas, Luke Short, and maybe Tom Horn,” Craddock said. “There ain't a slouch in there.”

“We got 'em outnumbered.”

“Might also be Elfego Baca.”

“Don't matter,” Trench said, “My men are battle tested and hard, and with you and Miller along, we got thirteen.”

“You gonna have any trouble with the law?”

“The law is in Conlon's pocket,” Trench said, “or the other way around. Either way, he ain't gonna be a concern.”

“You got this all figured, huh?”

“Pretty much,” Trench said. “I was you, I'd go and get Miller so he don't miss none of the action.”

“I'll do it.”

“See if you can get John Wesley Hardin and Clay Allison, too,” Trench said. “That'd pretty much give us an unbeatable edge.”

“So you're calling for us to all go over there and brace Trench and his men,” Heck Thomas said.

“I am.”

“What if they don't back down?” Reeves said.

“Look who we have here,” Clint said, pointing up and down the Buckskin bar, where they were standing. “Who would go up against this?”

“An egomaniac,” Bat said.

“A what?” Reeves asked.

“A man looking for a reputation,” Luke Short said.

“Not to mention money,” Tom Horn said.

“Tom's right,” Heck said. “Trench's men are probably gettin' paid plenty to face us.”

The bartender, O'Day, spoke up after listening awhile.

“You want I should send somebody over to take a look at the Crystal?” he asked.

“That's a good idea, Kelly,” Clint said. “Let's get some idea of what Conlon and Trench are planning.”

“You got it.”

O'Day went to the end of the bar and talked to a man, who then ran out through the batwings, leaving them swinging behind him.

“He'll be right back,” he told them.

“So what do we have?” Clint asked. “Five of us?”

“Six,” Horn said. “I'm in.”

“Why?” Clint asked. “This isn't your fight, Tom. You just got here.”

“You stood with me against Craddock,” Horn said. “That's all the reason I need.”

“What about Baca?” Reeves asked. “He's still in the Crystal.”

“That'll be up to him,” Clint said. “Let's just say there's six of us for now.”

“This is all so stupid,” Bat said. “We all got sucked in by Conlon. All of us, along with the likes of Hardin, Allison, and Miller. We should all just ride out, leave Conlon with an empty saloon.”

“We could do that,” Clint said. “Why don't we put it to a vote? I'll go along with the majority.”

“Why don't we wait for O'Day's man to come back before we decide?” Luke said.

At that moment the man came bursting through the doors, pointing behind him.

“They got a bunch of men waitin' in front of the Crystal,” he said.

“Who?”

“I dunno all of 'em,” the man said. “Trench is leadin' 'em, and they got that bounty hunter and Killin' Jim Miller standin' with them.”

“Not Hardin?” Heck Thomas asked. “Or Allison?”

“Not that I saw. Just a bunch of Trench's security guards—or whatever he calls 'em.”

“Thanks, Pete,” O'Day said. “Have a drink on the house.”

“Thanks, Kelly.”

Pete went to the other end of the bar.

“Looks like we may have had the vote taken out of our hands,” Luke said.

“How so?” Bat asked.

“You think they're going to let us walk past the saloon to the livery to get our horses?”

“They want this to happen,” Heck said.

“Which means,” Bat added, “they think they've got an edge.”

“Well,” Clint said, “they've got the law on their side, if we're right.”

“And maybe more guns than you can see out front,” Tom Horn said.

“That means the rooftops,” Bat said, “and maybe some windows.”

“How do we manage to switch the edge over to us?” Luke Short asked.

“I think for that,” Clint said, “we probably just have to show up.”

Clint, Bat, Luke, Heck Thomas, Bass Reeves, and Tom Horn all left the Buckskin and started walking over to the Crystal.

“You know,” Bat said to Clint as they brought up the rear, “if they don't back off, we'll have to go through with this.”

“I know it,” Clint said, “but I'm tired of waiting, and I'm tired of being played.”

“Well,” Bat said, “I'd sure like it better if Conlon was on the street with his men.”

“We can go and see him after,” Clint said.

“If there is an after,” Bat said. “You know there's a chance one of us will catch a lucky bullet.”

“There's always that chance,” Clint said.

Bat looked up and down the street as they came within sight of the Crystal.

“What are you looking for?” Clint asked.

“The sheriff,” Bat said. “I thought maybe he'd put in an appearance on this.”

“He will,” Clint said, “when the shooting is all over and done with.”

*   *   *

“Here they come,” Trench said. “Get ready.”

“Is Horn with 'em?” Craddock asked.

“He's there,” Trench said. He looked to his left at Sykes, his right hand. “Those men on the roof?”

“They're there, boss,” Sykes said. “Across the street, and right above us.”

“Good. This should go just fine.”

*   *   *

Sheriff Burle watched from his position across the street as Clint, Bat, and the others approached the Crystal. If this worked out the way it was supposed to, he wouldn't have to wear his badge for very much longer. No more forty-a-month job for him.

Ever again.

*   *   *

As they approached the Crystal, they moved six abreast. Clint had Bat and Luke on his left, with Reeves, Heck, and Tom Horn on his right.

Trench knew what he was doing, as he had his men all fanned out in front of the saloon, including Dutch Craddock and Jim Miller. Clint was pleased to see that John Wesley Hardin and Clay Allison had decided not to take a hand in this game.

*   *   *

“Adams,” Trench said.

“Trench,” Clint said. “What's this about? We were just coming in for a drink.”

“You and your friends already had lots of drinks in here,” Trench said. “I think you're here for another reason.”

“Same reason as always,” Clint said. “A wake. We think it's time your boss got it under way.”

“I think that's up to my boss.”

“Well,” Clint said, “we aim to help him make up his mind.”

“You ain't comin' in, Adams.”

“How do you intend to stop us, Trench?”

“The same way we stopped those others,” Trench said. “We'll leave you all lyin' in the street, Mr. Gunsmith.”

“No doubt there are going to be a lot of bodies lying in the street, Mr. Trench.”

“Then call it,” Trench said.

“I'm going to leave that to you, Trench,” Clint said. “This bloodbath is going to be your mistake.”

But even as he said it, he wasn't sure he was right. They had all had their chance to ride out and avoid bloodshed, but here they were. Sometimes a man just couldn't avoid making a mistake.