Autumn of the Gun (10 page)

Nathan laughed. “What would you do if you suddenly had five thousand dollars in your hands?”

“God,” said Holt, “I'd drop this badge like it was hot and ride like hell for southwest Texas. I'd buy me a spread, a bull, some seed cows ...”

 

The morning of July fourth, Nathan, Holt, and Vivian returned to the mercantile. Now it was time to place their bets.

“Thunderation,” said Holt, looking at the chart on the wall, “they got Diablo down at twenty-to-one odds.”

“That's because he's unknown in these parts, and nobody's seen him run,” Nathan said, “and precisely why we didn't put him through any trial runs.”

“Westwind is the horse we have to beat,” said Vivian, studying the chart.

There was considerable excitement when Nathan, Holt, and Vivian placed their bets, for Nathan had advanced both Holt and Vivian five hundred.

“You folks must know somethin' the rest of us don't,” Adderly said as he wrote out their receipts.

“We just like long odds,” said Nathan. “Will you have enough
pesos
to pay us if we win?”

“Ten times over,” Adderly said. “You wouldn't believe the money that's been laid on old Westwind.”

“That good, is he?” Holt asked.

“He's never lost a race,” said Adderly.

It was a sobering thought as the three of them left the mercantile. They went directly to the livery, for they must have Diablo at the starting line an hour and a half before the start of the race.

“Sixteen horses in the lineup,” Nathan said. “With that many horses, there'll be some pushing and shoving. Viv, try to get Diablo off to a fast start and into an early lead.”

“I intend to,” said Vivian.

It was all the advice they could give her, for Diablo's fifteen opponents proved to be a formidable bunch. Westwind pranced about, draped in a fancy blanket embroidered with his name. The rest of the horses were no less impressive. Diablo was assigned the ninth position, clearly a disadvantage unless he took an early lead. Nathan's eyes met Holt's; they said nothing lest Vivian become more nervous than she already appeared to be.

“Diablo's the only horse without some kind of saddle,” Vivian observed.

“You have a definite edge,” said Nathan. “Except for Indians, not many can ride without a saddle.”

It came time for horses and riders to take their positions, and no sooner had they done so than to Vivian's immediate left, a roan nipped at Diablo. Diablo did some nipping of his own, and the roan reared, unseating his rider.

“Ma'am,” said one of the judges, “if your horse doesn't behave, he'll be disqualified.”

Furious as Vivian was, she bit her tongue and said nothing. Diablo would show up the troublesome roan, along with all the others. Westwind was in third position, and his rider was having trouble holding him. He seemed to know he was favored because the many who had put their money on him shouted his name. Westwind pranced to the side just as the starting gun sounded, and the favorite started the race a stride behind. Before the echo of the starting gun had died, Diablo had taken the lead, and he never lost it. He thundered across the finish line three lengths ahead of Westwind. There was total chaos, as shouting, cursing men surrounded the judges.

“The black jumped the starting gun!” Westwind's owner bawled. “Disqualify him!”

Nathan and Holt fought their way to Vivian and Diablo. Suddenly there was the roar of a Colt, and the shouting and cursing ceased.

“This is Sheriff McCarty,” a voice bawled. “The decision is up to the judges.”

There was an uneasy silence as the three judges conferred; after a few minutes, one of the trio announced their decision.

“We saw nothing amiss. We are declaring the black the winner.”

Again the crowd broke loose, and when the sheriff finally quieted them Nathan Stone spoke.

“Sheriff, the lady riding Diablo is unwilling that there be any doubt her horse won and demands that the race be run again.”

Men cheered and shouted, and when silence finally reigned, one of the judges spoke.

“This is highly irregular, and although we've never seen it done before, we do not believe it's illegal. The young lady riding Diablo is to be commended for her sense of fairness. Riders, take your positions and prepare to run the race again.”

There were no distractions, and when the starting gun sounded all horses got off to an equal start. Westwind and Diablo surged ahead of the rest; Westwind's rider applied the quirt while Vivian depended on her voice. Calling on a reserve that seemed lacking in Westwind, Diablo gained a length. They thundered on, with Diablo gaining, and crossed the finish line three lengths ahead. It was a glorious thing, the testimony of a rider's consummate faith in her horse, and even those who had lost their money cheered.

“My God,” said Holt. “My God.” He seized Vivian, kissing her long and hard.

Men gathered around with questions about Diablo, and there was no escape. Nathan, Holt, Vivian, and Diablo were there for more than two hours. When they finally reached Adderly's Mercantile to collect their winnings, there were more well-wishers.

“Except for winners of a few dollars, we're paying by bank draft,” Adderly told them. “We had word the James gang might ride down here and rob us.”

“Diablo's purse goes to Barnabas McQueen,” said Nathan

The ten-thousand-dollar draft was written to McQueen, while Nathan, Holt, and Vivian were paid individually.

“I've heard of things like this,” Holt said, “but I never dreamed it could happen to me. Let's get to the bank before it closes so I can repay your five hundred.”

“Yes,” said Vivian, “I owe you, too. I never dreamed there was this much money in the whole world.”

“I think we should take some of it in cash, and a bank draft for the balance,” Nathan said. “You'd need a pack-horse to carry it in gold, and a company of cavalry to keep the outlaws away.”

“Lord, yes,” Holt agreed. “I still don't trust Texas banks. I may leave mine in a bank in St. Louis.”

“Is that spread in Texas still on your mind?” Nathan asked.

“Yeah,” said Holt, “but now that I actually have the money, I'm wonderin' if maybe I won't come out better in Wyoming or Montana Territories. There's so much more land to be had, and I hear the grass is stirrup-high.”

“I don't know about Montana,” Nathan said, “but I hear the big ranchers are gobblin' up most of the land in Wyoming's Powder River Basin.”

“Well, I got time to think,” said Holt. “I might just take it easy for a while after I ride back to Fort Smith and turn in my badge. When will you and Vivian be leaving for New Orleans?”

“Tomorrow,” Nathan said. “Barnabas will be wondering what became of us. I reckon we'll have to ride on to Memphis. We've been here three days, and I haven't heard the first steamboat whistle.”

“Occasionally there's one in Fort Smith,” said Holt, “but I think they're government packets. It used to be the jumping-off place, but no more. The railroads—the AT & SF and the Union Pacific—ended that.”

 

When it was time for Nathan and Vivian to part company with the genial Mel Holt, it proved more awkward than any of them had expected.

“Too bad you aren't going on to New Orleans with us,” Nathan said. “I've gotten used to you.”

“So have I,” said Vivian.

Holt laughed. “I feel like the
real
loser. I'll likely end up talking to myself. I hope our trails cross again.
Vaya con Dios.”

They watched Holt ride away. Then, with four horses on lead ropes and Vivian riding Diablo, they crossed the Arkansas and set out eastward, toward Memphis. Empty ranged on ahead, and they made the journey in two days.

“Tomorrow's Sunday,” Nathan said. “If my memory serves me right, there should be a southbound steamboat through here sometime tomorrow.”

Stopping at the dock, they learned there would be a steamboat at three o'clock Sunday afternoon. Nathan bought passage for Vivian and himself, and made arrangements for their horses and the four animals belonging to McQueen to travel on the lower deck.

“Now,” said Nathan, “we have the rest of the day, tonight, and all tomorrow morning to see St. Louis.”

“What is there to see and do?”

“Frankly,” Nathan said, “I'm not sure. All the times I've been here, except for the last time, I was in some kind of trouble and left in a hurry.”

“What happened the last time?”

“Some distilleries—two of them here—were cheating the government out of whiskey tax, and Silver brought me here to help trap the distillery owners.”
¹⁰

“And you did?”

“Yes,” said Nathan. “The owners went to prison, and their wives wanted me to stay and run the distilleries for them, among other things.”

Vivian laughed. “You could have run the distilleries during the day, and taken care of the ‘other things' at night.”

“I'm smarter than I look, thank God,” Nathan said. “Being of fairly sound mind, I saddled up and rode away, not daring to look back.”

“When we leave the McQueens, why don't we go to Washington?”

“My God,” said Nathan. “Why?”

“I'd like to meet this Byron Silver. He sounds interesting.”

“Oh, he is,” said Nathan, “but he's got a woman. Maybe more than one, by now.”

“Damn it, I wasn't going to throw myself at him.” Nathan laughed. “You might. He's a handsome brute, with more scars than me.”

“Is that all you have going for you, your scars?”

“Just about,” said Nathan. “Oh, I'm a fair-to-middlin' gambler, too.”

“What are you going to do with the money you won on Diablo?”

“Eventually, I'll use some of it to win more,” Nathan said. “I reckon we can spend Christmas with the McQueens.”

“My God,” said Vivian, “that's six months.”

“I know,” Nathan said, “but I doubt they'll allow us to leave any sooner. After all, we have a ten-thousand-dollar check for Barnabas, and we're returning four horses he might never have seen again. Besides, when he learns you can ride Diablo, he may never let you leave at all.”

“You really think he'll be that impressed?”

“I certainly do,” said Nathan. “I've never seen anybody ride any better than you did.”

“Not even Eulie?”

“Not even Eulie,” Nathan said. “I'm reluctant for Barnabas to learn what you've done, because he'll never want you to leave.”

“You wouldn't stay in New Orleans?”

“No,” said Nathan, “for several reasons. One of the most important is that there are people in New Orleans who would like to see me dead.”

“I'm beginning to wonder if that isn't the case just about everywhere.”

“It is,” Nathan replied. “I told you that's why I didn't want you with me. I draw lead like a lightning rod pulls lightning.”

“But you think you can last until Christmas in New Orleans?”

“As long as I stay out of saloons and gambling houses,” said Nathan.

“But can you?”

“I don't know,” Nathan said. “I can last only so long, settin' on my hunkers, eating, and sleeping.”

“There'll be horse races.”

“I expect there will be,” said Nathan. “Diablo's a four-legged gold mine.”

“He'll need someone to guard Diablo from thieves.”

“You're suggesting that I become bodyguard to a horse?”

“It might be the safest thing you've ever done,” Vivian said.

“And the most boring,” said Nathan. “Do me a favor; don't suggest it to Barnabas and Bess McQueen.”

Contrary to his nature, Nathan took a room in the elegant Pioneer Hotel. With Empty at the livery with the horses, Nathan and Vivian had supper in the hotel dining room and then attended the theatre.

“I've never lived this fancy before,” said Vivian, “but I believe I'd tire of it if I did it every day.”

“I know I would,” Nathan said. “After I've been on the trail for a while, I can't wait to get a bath, a soft bed, and a bait of town grub. But after a few days, I'm missing the bacon, beans, and coffee cooked over an open fire.”

Vivian laughed. “And sleeping on the ground.”

“Especially that,” said Nathan.

 

With a blast of its whistle, the big stern wheeler eased up to the dock. Nathan saw to the boarding of the horses, and made sure they were secure in their stalls on the first deck. Then he and Vivian boarded, with Empty cautiously following.

“God,” said Nathan, “I'd forgotten how small these cabins are,” after they had entered their assigned quarters.

Empty sat there looking uneasily from Nathan to Vivian. He had been on steamboats before, but like saloons, he didn't care for them. There were two bunks, nothing more.

“With so little room,” Vivian said, “what do we do during this trip?”

“Set here and look at one another, I reckon,” said Nathan. “For sure, we won't be wrasslin' around.”

Nathan, Vivian, and Empty were more than weary of the steamboat when the craft finally eased up to the landing at New Orleans.

“Lord,” said Vivian, “solid ground never felt so good.”

It took a while to bring the horses from the first deck, but finally Nathan and Vivian had the animals on lead ropes and were on their way to the McQueen place. Empty knew where they were bound and ran on ahead, barking in great anticipation. Barnabas and Bess McQueen were waiting to greet them.