05 Ironhorse (30 page)

“Tough bastard,” Berkeley said.

“Is,” I said.

“All high body shots,” Virgil said. “Including the one in the neck.”

Virgil pulled on the cigar again.

“Would have killed most men,” I said.

Virgil nodded and blew a stream of smoke that drifted across the bar and swirled around in the glow of the lamp.

“Next shot will be to the head,” Virgil said.

Virgil put his middle finger to his forehead just above his eyebrow.

“One-way ticket,” Virgil said.

Virgil picked up his whiskey and moved to the door, looking out at the pouring rain. He leaned against the jamb and smoked.

“We gave this place a good go-through,” Berkeley said.

Berkeley stepped out from behind the bar and moved to the door by Virgil.

“Hard to look in every commode and confessional,” Berkeley said. “We’ve burrowed ’n rooted best we could in the dark. We can start looking when it’s light. Maybe this rain will lift and we’ll find him in the light of day. We can look outside of the town proper, too. There are abandoned dwellings and homesteads, farms, and of course the mining camps. Hell, this is not New York or Frisco or Chicago, or even godforsaken Dallas, he can’t be that hard to find.”

“That little fellow there,” Virgil said. “He ain’t hard to find.”

Berkeley followed Virgil’s point.

“No he’s not,” Berkeley said. “That’s Miner. He just mines his way from kitchen to kitchen.”

I looked out, they were talking about that mangy cur Virgil and I had seen coming and going all over Half Moon Junction. He was walking slowly down the middle of the street in the pouring rain. He stopped and looked over at us. He walked toward us, just shy of the boardwalk and looked up at us as if we might have something to eat.

“I don’t have anything to eat, Miner,” Berkeley said. “Not at the moment I don’t.”

Miner stayed looking up at us but soon got bored and pawed casually at what looked to be a cluster of flowers on the ground. He put his nose to the ground, sniffed the cluster a little, and walked off on down the street.

“He doesn’t go hungry,” Berkeley said, “I’ll guarantee you that.”

“What’s that he was pawing at?” Virgil said. “Those flowers?”

I got the lantern off the bar and stepped out and got a look.

“Is flowers,” I said. “Petunias.”

“Ah, hell, same flower in our window boxes,” Berkeley said. “Planter must have filled up with water and broke off.”

Virgil looked at me, I followed him, and we stepped out off the boardwalk, past the eaves, turned and looked back up at the second story of the hotel.

“Good goddamn,” Virgil said as he pulled his Colt.

109

BERKELEY AND I
followed Virgil moving quickly out of the bar and into the main room of the hotel.

Virgil spoke quiet to Berkeley’s men, Gabriel and Jesse, who were still playing cards with Burns. “You two! Get around the back of this building. Keep your eyes open, you see the buckskin fellow we described to you, kill him, don’t let him get close to you and don’t you shoot nobody else.”

Gabriel and Jesse looked at Berkeley.

“You heard him,” Berkeley said quiet-like, “go . . .”

Gabriel and Jesse hurried out the front.

“That window with the broken planter,” Virgil said. “Who’s in that room?”

“I don’t know,” Berkeley said, looking at the desk clerk, Burns. “Don’t think anybody. Room eight?”

Burns shook his head. “There’s nobody in room eight.”

“Which door would that be in the hall up there?” Virgil asked Berkeley.

“Turn right at the top of the stairs,” Berkeley said. “Eight is the second-to-the-last room on the right.”

“What about the girls,” Virgil said. “What room are they in?”

Berkeley looked to Burns.

“They are in the same room with their mother and father. Stateroom on the third floor,” Burns said. “They did not want to be separated.”

“Where are the stairs up to that room?”

“When you get to the second floor, you go all the way past room eight; the stairs to the third floor are there, at the end of the hall on the left.”

“Hobbs,” Virgil said. “He in the same room he was?”

“No,” Burns said. “We haven’t got the doors fixed yet after you and your deputy knocked ’em in. He’s in the room right across from where he was. Room two.”

“Don’t think we’ll need him,” Virgil said, “but get the keys.”

Burns turned and got the master ring from a drawer and set them on the counter in front of Virgil. Virgil handed them to me and pulled his second Colt.

“I know I don’t need to tell you boys,” Virgil said looking at Berkeley and me, “but watch yourself.”

With that, Virgil cocked the second Colt and we started up the stairs. We moved slowly and quietly. Virgil led the way with his dual Colts, followed by me with the eight-gauge and Berkeley with his .38 Smith & Wesson Lemon Squeezer. We moved one step at a time.

The sconces were burning, but the light was very dim on the stairs and on the second-floor hall. Virgil stopped shy of the hall and lay down on the steps. He removed his hat and peeked out into the hall, looking first to his left, then to his right. He moved back, looked at us, and shook his head. He put on his hat, stood up, and stepped out into the hall. He held his hand up with his palm pointing toward us, for us to hold up and not move. He pointed to his eyes, to himself, and moved slowly down the hall to the right. I moved up to the top step. I could see the hall in the opposite direction Virgil had started walking. The direction I was looking was the short side, with only two rooms across from each other. The room I could see was the room with the broken door where I barged in on Hobbs. I inched out and looked in the other direction, watching Virgil as he walked the long hall. He was moving slowly with a Colt in each hand. He stopped when he got to room eight. He looked down to the floor and continued walking until he got to the stairs leading to the third-floor room at the end of the hall. Virgil looked up the stairs. He looked back toward me and motioned for us to come. I stepped into the hall and walked slowly, quietly toward Virgil, and Berkeley followed. When we got to room eight, Virgil was by the door and pointing at the floor. There was a path of blood at the bottom of the door that led down the hall and up the stairs. Virgil stepped to one side of the door, motioned for us to get to the other side of the door, and pointed to the door handle with his Colt.

I nodded and turned the handle gently. The handle moved. The door was not locked. I looked at Virgil. He nodded. I turned the handle fully, and the door swung open freely.

110

WE DID NOT MOVE.
We stayed to each side of the door out of sight of the room and just listened. All I could hear was the sound of the rain outside of the open window in the room. We stood there for a long moment, waiting, but there was nothing. Not yet.

I kept my eye on Virgil, and when he moved, I moved, and in a second we were in the room.

We saw no one in the room.

I looked quick under the bed and there was nothing. The curtains were blowing and outside the rain was pouring, but the room was empty. There was broken glass, dirt, and pansies on the floor from where the window had been broken open and the flower box’s soil had been dragged into the room. And there was blood, blood across the window seal, the floor, and on the inside doorknob.

I whispered, “Looks like he got cut by the window glass.”

Berkeley nodded.

Virgil pointed at the blood on the floor leading out the door and into the hall. He pointed up.

“Rattlesnake got to the nest,” Virgil said, quietly shaking his head.

I moved first out the door. Berkeley and Virgil followed. When I got to the steps leading to the third floor, we heard laughter coming from behind us. We stopped.

We turned, looking down the long hall. It was empty, but we heard the laughter again.

No doubt it was Bloody Bob’s raspy laughter, but it was hard to tell exactly where he was, where his voice was coming from. Then, we saw him. He stepped out of Hobbs’ old room with the busted door at the far end of the hall. He was holding Abigail in front of him. He had his big knife to her throat. Abigail was wearing a white nightgown, and we could see it was bloody. I could not tell whether the blood was Abigail’s or Bob’s, but there was blood. Bob held Abigail off the floor, and her face was directly in front of his. Virgil stood square in the hall facing Bob, Berkeley was behind Virgil, and I stood behind Berkeley. Bob was at least sixty feet away.

“Been looking for you, Virgil,” Bob said.

“So I heard,” Virgil said.

Lightning flashed, and the window behind Bob let in a purplish-blue color.

“Ya’ll were quiet as this twat’s tears sneaking up here, I’ll give ya that,” Bob said. “Didn’t hear ya, but I smelt ya.”

“Let her go, Bob,” Virgil said. “Let her go so you and me can have our jig.”

Bob shook his head.

“Nope,” Bob said. “I got some bloodlettin’ to do first . . .”

“You do,” Virgil said.

There was a loud boom, and a plume of smoke kicked away in front of Virgil’s Colt. Abigail dropped to the floor.

I’d been in enough gunfights to know where the flight of a bullet ends up, and that shot from Virgil’s Colt hit a small piece of Bob’s head that was leaning out, looking past Abigail. There was another boom, and more smoke kicked out in front of Virgil’s Colt. Bob stumbled back, and Virgil shot him again. Bob crashed through the window behind him, and in a second was gone from our sight. Abigail did not look back. She got up and ran toward Virgil. Virgil laid down his Colts, and in an instant, Abigail was in his arms.

Virgil looked back to me and said, “The others!”

Berkeley followed me, running quickly upstairs to the governor’s stateroom. The door was locked. I pounded on it.

“It’s Everett Hitch!”

I didn’t hear anything.

“Deputy Marshal Hitch!” I said, beating on the door.

I thumbed through keys. Quickly losing patience, I stepped back a ways, and just before I kicked the door, it opened.

It was the governor, and huddled in a corner behind him were his wife and Emma.

111

THE TEXAS RANGERS
arrived in Half Moon Junction to collect the prisoners and to escort the governor and his family back to Texas. There was a bunch of them. They stepped off the Northbound Express and walked in a pack up Half Moon Street, heading for Hotel Ark. Little Charlie—acting as their pathfinder—led the way. Virgil and I were sitting on the corner of Half and Full Moon Street, eating breakfast at KK & Sandra’s Café when they turned the corner and walked past us. There were ten of them, and they were all dressed the same.

“A sight,” I said.

“Is,” Virgil said.

“There’s a bunch of ’em.”

“Ten big men, wearing ten-gallon hats.”

“Following a ten-year-old boy.”

“Looks like they are outta the same litter,” Virgil said.

“Does.”

We watched them walk a ways, and Virgil went back to work on his breakfast of posole and cornbread.

I pulled out my watch and had a look at the time.

“The Southbound Express back to Texas will be coming through here in about an hour and a half.”

“You gonna talk to that woman?” Virgil said.

Virgil was focused on his breakfast. He scooped up a big spoonful of posole.

“’Bout what?”

“’Bout what she wants to talk about,” Virgil said.

He scooped in another spoonful.

“What do you think she wants to talk about?”

“You.”

“Me?”

Virgil nodded.

“What do you think she wants to talk about me?”

“Most likely ’bout your problems.”

“’Bout my problems?”

Virgil nodded as he chewed his food.

“That’s what they like to talk about,” Virgil said.

“They?” I said.

“Women,” Virgil said. “That’s what they want to talk about, mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“That’s what Allie talks about, mostly,” Virgil said. “My problems.”

Virgil cleaned his plate with a piece of cornbread.

“Way women are,” Virgil said.

Virgil ate some more.

“Keeps them from having to talk about their own problems,” Virgil said, “and if you ask me, talking about your problems is a hell of a lot easier than talking about their problems, so you just make peace with it. Just listen real good. Let her go on. Don’t say nothing.”

“You finished?”

“I am,” Virgil said.

112

WE PAID UP
at KK & Sandra’s and walked down to the livery stable to get our horses. When we got them saddled up, we walked them over to the general store. At the store we got ourselves outfitted for our journey back to Appaloosa. We bought ourselves enough supplies for a week. We got coffee, beans, bacon packed in bran, pemmican, Chollet & Co. desiccated vegetables, jerky, boiled butter, dried fruit, sunflower seeds, and some whiskey.

After we got ourselves rigged out good, we walked our animals over to Hotel Ark, where some of the Rangers were sitting out front on the steps, smoking cigars.

We tied up our animals and started up the steps. A young Ranger held out his hand for us to stop.

“Hotel is off-limits for the moment,” the Ranger said.

Hobbs spoke up as he was coming out the door of the hotel with Berkeley.

“Don’t even think about halting those men!” Hobbs said.

“Sorry, Mr. Hobbs,” the Ranger said, “governor’s orders.”

“Goddamn it, son!” Hobbs said. “The governor, his family, and me included would not even be alive if it weren’t for these men!”

The Ranger looked back and forth between Virgil and me. His eyes rested on Virgil.

“You Virgil Cole?” the Ranger said.

“I am,” Virgil said.

The Ranger just looked at Virgil for an extended moment, kind of an odd moment. He took off his hat and held it in front of him over his belly.

“You are the reason I became a lawman,” the Ranger said.

“That so.”