Stay Away From That City . . . They Call It Cheyenne (Code of the West) (25 page)

“Which bank? I thought some of the gang is out here in the lobby.”

“The whole gang is here, and they’re the only ones that didn’t run.”

Angelita came over to the back door where they were stan
ding. “Maybe they’re goin’ to rob the train. The Denver Pacific will be here in a few minutes, and the Union Pacific rolls in at ten after. It’s pretty hectic with both of them arriving at the same time. I ought to know—I’m down here every day.”

“With the whole town putting out fires, there’s no tellin’ what they’re goin’ to do.”

“Where’s Tap? Tap ought to be here. . . . It’s three o’clock,” Pepper fumed.

“The D. P. ought to be here,” Angelita added. “It’s never late except for snow.” She walked over to the one window in the room and peered down the tracks. “Here it comes.”

“Get away from that window. Come over here,” Carbine called. “Wait until the train pulls up. Then we’ll load up out the back door,” Carbine instructed. “Maybe you two ladies should travel to Denver just to get out of town.”

“We’ll meet Tap on the east side of town, just like we pro
mised,” Pepper insisted. “But I sure wish he was here.”

Carbine kept back in the shadows of the darkened ba
ggage room and glanced out toward the Denver Pacific tracks.

“What in the world? There’s only an engine. Tap’s on that train.”

“He’s what?” Pepper gasped.

“I’m goin’ back out there. Lock the door behind me,” Ca
rbine ordered. “This is getting crazier by the minute.”

“I’m coming out too,” she insisted.

“Mrs. Andrews,” Angelita cried, “I don’t think my father’s breathing. Daddy!”

“But .
 . . I have to . . . Tap’s . . .”

Carbine slipped out the back door with his pistol in his hand, and Pepper spun around to face Angelita .
 . . then back at the door.

“Please,” the girl cried.

Lord, I can’t do it. . . . I can’t do two things at once. I just don’t know what . . .

She felt a gentle breeze and glanced about to see if Ca
rbine had shut the door. The room was closed up, but Pepper hurried to Angelita’s side. A quietness of spirit swept through Pepper, in such sharp contrast to her previous feeling that she was afraid she was about to faint. Tenderly she held the girl and kissed her forehead, at the same time gripping Baltimore’s wrist.

“Honey, it must have just been the medicine. They said it would put him to sleep.”

Several shots were fired outside the station, and Angelita jumped.

“Put your hand right here,” Pepper instructed.

“What’s happening out there?”

“Mr. Andrews can take care of it. Can you feel that pulse?”

“Yes,” Angelita whimpered.

“You sit right here, and I’ll be back. Is it all right if I leave you now?”

Angelita nodded.

Pepper slipped out the back door. Two more shots were fired. Yells echoed from the front of the depot. A rough wooden ladder nailed to the outside of the baggage room seemed to lead to a small balcony in front of a false dormer window that faced the tracks. She cautiously climbed the ladder with the shotgun.

“‘O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home.’”

The melody of the old Isaac Watts hymn trickled through her mind even as she pulled herself up into the little balcony and surveyed the scene below.

Spotting at least two fires burning in Cheyenne as they approached, Tap ordered the engineer and fireman to enter the train yard at the highest speed they could and still slow down at the depot. With wheels churning and whistle blaring, they roared into town.

As they approached the depot, he spotted several armed men on the loading dock. The engineer locked his brakes, and the train slid on the rails.

“Just as you get to the depot,” Tap yelled to the engineer, “throw it back in gear, and don’t stop until you get to the roundhouse. Once you get down there, throw it in reverse, and drive back out on the prairie to your train.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Just do it."

“What about the robbery?”

“That’s my problem.”

Tap yanked Merced to his feet just as they pulled even with the baggage dock, about seventy feet short of the main term
inal. Then he leaped from the moving train, dragging Merced with him.

His hands still bound behind him, Merced bounced and flopped like a mail sack as he hit the rough wooden loading dock. Tap rolled over once and came up on his haunches with his revolver.

His dramatic entrance went almost unnoticed as several bummers tried to run down the train engine that now chugged off toward the roundhouse. The only one who spotted his daring arrival was Carbine Williams.

“What in the world’s goin’ on?”

“They’re tryin’ to rob two trains at once. Can you get around to the east side? Where’s Pepper and the others?”

“Safe in the baggage room.”

“When’s the U. P. due?”

“Any minute now.”

“If you get a chance, stop her short of the station.”

Carbine Williams sprinted east across the tracks, giving a wide berth to the depot.

Tap jerked Simp Merced to his feet.

“I’ll kill you, Andrews.”

Tap shoved him on down the loading dock toward the main terminal.

“Let’s go visit DelGatto,” he growled.

“You’re tough, Andrews . . . but you’re also stupid. Alex DelGatto’s got a dozen armed men in that depot. They’ll shoot you on sight.”

“There aren’t two in the bunch that ever shot a gun when they were being shot at. I’ll take my chances.”

He held Merced by the collar of his coat and kept the Colt .44 pointed at the shorter man’s head. Several of the gang abandoned their effort to chase the Denver Pacific engine. Most now ran back to the depot.

“DelGatto,” Tap yelled. Several of the bummers backed away from their position as Tap marched to the loading dock in front of the main terminal, using Merced as a shield. “Where’s De
lGatto?” he hollered at one of the men hiding behind a stack of baggage, with a new ’73 Winchester carbine pointed at Tap and Merced.

“Mister, you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. You ain’t got a prayer of gettin’ out of here alive.”

Tap’s bullet blasted the wooden nail barrel next to the man’s head. The bummer dropped his gun and bolted toward the depot.

Meanwhile Carbine Williams inched his way forward on the east. In the distance, the westbound U. P. train’s whistle blew.

“DelGatto . . . I’ve got your boy Merced out here.”

Tap made sure Simp Merced was standing between his l
ocation and the depot.

“It’s all over, DelGatto. I know about the $500,000 in gold. And Merced told me all about La Plata del Palicio Aztec. You don’t get anything. You wasted your time. Ain’t that a kick? You boys don’t get a dime.”

“What’s he talkin’ about?” one of the bummers shouted. “Even if the gold don’t come in, we still get that Mexican silver, don’t we?”

“All you boys will get is about six months in jail. Unless you start shootin’. Then I’d say those who live through it will spend the rest of their lives in the Territorial Prison.”

“I ain’t doin’ this if I don’t get paid,” one of them shouted.

“Wait.” DelGatto’s high-pitched voice shrieked from inside the terminal. “He’s just tryin’ to scare you. Listen, that’s the U. P. It’s comin’ in, and those riches will be ours. Finish him off, boys.”

“He’s got Merced.”

Alex DelGatto peeked out from behind a beam at the e
ntry to the waiting room.

Come on. Just a little more. Another step.
“Give up, DelGatto. I know that you’re the one who shot Baltimore with a .45.”

“Shoot him,” Merced hollered. “He’s ruined our plans. Shoot Andrews.”

“It’s ruined, all right,” DelGatto yelled. “Two years of planning is ruined by a two-bit deputy.”

“Shoot him,” Merced insisted again.

“Yeah, I’ll shoot him.”

The trail of smoke from Alex De
lGatto’s long-barreled .45 exploded into the air as Simp Merced slumped to the ground. Tap fired one shot toward DelGatto’s position and dove for cover behind a huge packing crate.

“You killed Merced,” one of the bummers shouted. “You killed your own man.”

“I’ve got no room for those who fail. Now kill Andrews.”

“I ain’t goin’ to wait and git shot by my own boss,” one bummer shouted. He threw down his gun, sprinted east, and collided with the barrel of Carbine Williams’ revolver.

“That’s right, boys,” Andrews yelled, “if you don’t aim to die right here, throw those guns down and hightail it out of here.”

A couple more ran east and were laid down by a two-by-four-wielding Carbine Williams. Tap knew several were ru
nning out the front door of the terminal. He could hear gunfire, shouts, and curses.

They’ve taken to shootin’ each other, I suppose. I know where DelGatto is, but I haven’t seen Strappler anywhere.

Tap signaled for Williams to circle back around to the street side of the depot. He drew a bead on the open door, trying to stay protected by the shipping crates.

With Carbine around at the front, there was no signal for the incoming train to stop short, and the Union Pacific from Omaha slid, rolled, steamed, and whistled its way right up to the station.

Alex DelGatto burst through the doorway. He gripped Angelita’s shoulder held a gun to her head.

Oh, Lord, no. This is insane. It’s beyond money. Beyond r
evenge. It’s got to stop. Right here. Right now.

Oh, Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.

“Throw it down, Andrews,” DelGatto ordered. “I’ll kill her. You know I will. Throw that gun down.”

Angelita grimaced as she held her right hand in front of her stomach with all five fingers extended. She hid the thumb, then the forefinger.

She’s giving me a countdown.

“I said, drop it, Andrews,” DelGatto screamed above the roar of the train.

I surely hope we’re communicatin’, darlin’. 3—2—1.

When Angelita’s last finger disappeared into her fist, she dropped straight to the floor. The weight of her body broke her free from the gunman’s grip. DelGatto fired a wild shot. The bullet flew over a pullman carload of passe
ngers.

Tap fired his .44, hitting DelGatto under the left eye. He cocked the pistol and raised it for another shot when a sho
tgun blast from the roof behind him caused him to dive for cover.

Strappler, no more than twenty feet behind him, lay writ
hing in pain. A shotgun blast had ripped into him between the belt and the boots.

Tap ogled the tiny balcony in front of the dormer window. "Pepper!"

“He was going to shoot you in the back.” The shotgun dropped and she slumped over the balcony rail.

No, Lord. You can’t do this to me. No!

He ran to the ladder and climbed the steps two at a time. Swinging himself into the balcony, he lifted her off the railing. “Darlin’ . . . honey?”

Her eyes blinked open. “I got dizzy. I guess I fainted.”

“Thank You, Lord,” Tap sighed. “It’s all right. You can faint any old time you want, only next time don’t do it from a balcony.”

Her arms around his neck, his left hand around her waist, Tap inched his way down the ladder. Once they found ground level, he carried her to the main platform where A
ngelita stood next to Carbine Williams. The ten-year-old ran and threw her arms around both of them. Cheers and applause roared from the train as people began to debark.

“What’s all this?” Tap mumbled.

Carbine limped up to them. "I guess they saw the whole thing.”

A round-faced, thin-mustached conductor swung out of the railroad car clapping his hands.

“Marvelous! My, that was realistic. Splendid. The passengers enjoyed it immensely. What a dynamic concept. A street Mel-O-Drama to welcome folks to the West. I must tell my superiors.”

“A what?”

“Really, you must introduce the cast.” The conductor motioned for the passengers to continue to exit. Several ran over to shake Tap’s hand.

“No, no,” the conductor scooted them back. “Ladies and gentlemen, we want an introduction of the cast.”

“Cast?” Pepper swallowed hard.

Tap waved the crowd quiet.

“Folks, this is the West. It’s not a game out here. If any of you are doctors, there’s a couple of wounded men inside the waiting room. One's got buckshot in his legs. Another's dead. We’ll need a couple ambulances and an undertaker.

"It might be best if you hiked around the st
ation to the east. We’ll try to get the bodies gathered up as soon as we can. Welcome to Cheyenne, the Magic City of the Plains.”

Men gasped.