Novel 1981 - Comstock Lode (v5.0) (35 page)

Ledbetter paused. “Moreover, we need you here. With the war on, the President is going to need silver. You’re worth a sight more here than anywhere else.

“You say you’re a Cornishman, but this is where you make your living, and this is where you’ve chosen to live, and you’re a citizen. The most important thing right now is keeping the country together.”

They rode on in silence and then Tapley said, “Trev? You know that Eldorado Johnny? They tell me he’s ridin’ into Virginia City huntin’ Farmer Peel.”

“The worst of it is,” Ledbetter added, “he’ll find him. Langford Peel never backed off from anybody.”

“He’s been talking about it for months,” Trevallion said. “Peel’s heard about it, and if Johnny comes to Washoe, Peel will know what he’s come for.”

He rode on a short distance. “All right, Jim. We’ll try to make that hole of mine pay for itself. I’ll hire some men in the morning, and I’ll work two shifts as long as the money lasts.”

“Anybody heard anything of Will Crockett?” Tapley wanted to know. “Melissa’s worried. She thinks somebody had him killed.”

“Who would want to?”

“You know as well as I, Trev. Al Hesketh can never sit easy as long as Will is around. He’s an easygoing man, but he doesn’t like to have his nose rubbed in the dirt by a man like Hesketh. He will be back.”

“If he’s alive,” Tapley added.

“Speaking of Hesketh,” Trevallion asked. “He was bookkeeper for Crockett, but what was he before that? Where did he come from?”

“He was around the camps in California, the same as all of us. Who cares who a man was? Or where he came from?”

Trevallion turned in his saddle and glanced back along the trail. Somehow, talk of Hesketh always made him feel like that—why?

Melissa was in the bakery when they entered. She gave them a quick, almost frightened glance and then turned to get cups. She set them out, then poured coffee, turning away quickly before he could say anything. She went to the stove, busying herself. “Would you like some eggs?” She half turned toward them. “I have some and was about to scramble some for myself.”

“I’d like that,” Ledbetter said. He watched her as she moved about the room, and Trevallion was surprised to see an unexpected wistfulness in Jim’s expression. He caught Trevallion watching him and said quickly, “Any news of the war?”

“I’ve been with you,” Trevallion replied dryly.

“Well, I was wondering. We’re getting news faster now with the telegraph in. Old Abe is having his troubles. It’s a wonder he was ever elected, homely as he is. Folks can’t seem to realize that it isn’t a smooth talker we need in there but a steady man, a man with judgment. Any medicine-show man can spout words, if they are written for him. It takes no genius to sound well. To act right and at the right time is something else again.”

As he talked his eyes were following Melissa. “Something’s bothering her,” Trevallion commented. “She’s got something on her mind, something more than coffee and scrambled eggs.”

She returned to the table. “Baynes will serve us in a minute.” She sat down opposite them, glancing from one to the other. “I want to thank you boys,” she said, “for helping me get started here. I’ve done well.”

“In another five years,” Tapley commented, “you’ll be really rich. This boom has just started.”

“Well,” she hesitated, “everybody doesn’t feel that way.” She looked from one to the other. “I am selling my share to Baynes, selling out while it is still worth something.”

“Getting married?” Trevallion asked, mildly.

She flushed. “Yes, if you must know. I am.”

Trevallion kept his eyes from Ledbetter. “Who is the lucky man? Is it Alfie?”

She flushed. “Yes,” her chin lifted, “it is. I know,” she added defensively, “that you don’t think much of him, but he’s changed. He’s doing very well, and he wants to take me back to San Francisco to live.

“Some of the mines,” she added, “are playing out. Alfred thinks this will be dead and forgotten in three years.” She looked from one to the other again. “I’m sorry, but I want more of a life than I have here. Alfred thinks I’ve been working too hard, and that I need to play a little.”

Jim Ledbetter got up suddenly. “Just remembered,” he said, “I’ve got a mule train going out this morning.” He touched his hat, and went quickly out of the door.

“You’ve hurt him,” Trevallion said.

“Hurt Jim? How?”

Trevallion put down his cup. “Haven’t you realized? Jim’s in love with you. He’s been in love with you all this while.”

Chapter 40

T
HE DINING ROOM of the hotel was sparsely occupied at that hour, which was the way she preferred it. Grita had risen early and had already spoken for a horse, as she wished to ride through the town and see a little of the surrounding country.

She had told no one, wishing to be alone on this ride, as there were problems she had to resolve, and riding alone would give her time to think.

The coffee was hot and strong, stronger than any she had drunk, but she found she liked it.

Suddenly she heard boots on the hard floor, and the jangle of spurs. She looked up.

He was a young man, very boyish-looking, with unruly hair which had reluctantly submitted to a comb. He was clean-shaven and unbelievably neat, considering the time and the place.

“Ma’am? Miss Redaway? I’m Eldorado Johnny.”

From the way he spoke, he obviously expected her to recognize the name. He was shy, embarrassed but determined.

“Yes, Mr. Johnny?”

He flushed an even deeper red. “Ma’am, it ain’t, I mean it isn’t Mr. Johnny. It’s Eldorado Johnny.” Then with more confidence he said, “I’m a pistol-fighter. Maybe the best there is.”

She was puzzled, but he seemed a nice young man. “I am afraid I don’t understand.”

“Ma’am, it’s like this. I been thinking about it for months, longer. I decided now was the time to be Chief of Virginia City. Chief of Washoe.”

“‘Chief’?”

“Yes, ma’am!
The
Chief. I am going to challenge Langford Peel. You see, he’s the Chief right now. I am going over there tonight and I am going to call him out.”

“Won’t he shoot you?”

Eldorado Johnny smiled tolerantly. “No, ma’am, because I’m better than him. I’m better than anybody with a gun. So I come into town last night and this morning I went to the barber shop, first thing. I told that barber to give me the works—shave, haircut, shampoo, everything. Even his best colon
ee
. I wanted to smell nice, too.

“You know what I told them, ma’am? I told them I wanted the works, because before the day was over I’d either be Chief of Washoe or the best-lookin’ corpse in the graveyard!”

“You really mean that, do you not? But is it worth it? What is it to be Chief, after all?”

He was appalled. “Ma’am? What is it worth to be Chief? Ma’am, you just don’t understand!”

“I am afraid I do not. After all, Washoe is just one small spot on the map, and to be Chief in Washoe does not mean that you are Chief anywhere else.”

“But I’ll be Chief in Washoe, ma’am, and that’s what counts.” He ran his fingers through his curls. “Ma’am, I was wonderin’, I wanted to know, I was sort of hopin’.…Well, you’re the most beautiful woman around, maybe the most beautiful woman there is, and I was just wonderin’ if after I am Chief, I was wonderin’ whether you’d have dinner with me?”

He was blushing furiously, and his brow was beaded with sweat. “I mean, please? Would you?”

“Johnny,” she said quietly, “I do not have dinner or supper with men I have just met, and if I did, it would not matter whether you were Chief or not.”

She paused. “However, you seem a nice man, Johnny, and if you will just forget being Chief and trying to kill Langford Peel, I will have supper with you. Here, tonight, after the theater.”

He backed off a step. “No,
ma’am!
It wouldn’t be fitten. To have supper with you a man’s got to
be
somebody! I ain’t just one of these no-accounts, ma’am. I got ambition! Why, I’ve been to the barber an’ everything!”

He backed off. “No,
ma’am
. I got to be Chief in Washoe tonight.”

He turned swiftly and went out the door, the sunlight glinting on his highly polished boots.

Johnny went down to Pat Lynch’s saloon, and Johnny went up to the bar. He ordered a drink and he took the drink and he turned half around and said, “Is there a Chief in the place?”

And Langford Peel, in his black frock coat, took the cigar from his lips. “They have sometimes said that I was Chief. Is the question you ask for me?”

“I told them down at the barber shop I’d be Chief of the town tonight.” Johnny spoke lightly and a smile showed around his lips. “I’d be Chief in the town tonight or the best-lookin’ corpse in the graveyard.”

“We’ll step into the street then, Johnny. Do you mind?”

Johnny went down to the street then, but the Farmer stopped in the door. Johnny turned as he reached the street and drew on his Colt .44.

Langford shot him dead in his tracks with his gun half-drawn from his holster. Langford shot him down where he stood, then holstered his gun and said, “He was a handsome lad, and a neat one, too, so you can fix him up with the best, a hardwood casket with velvet lining that will give him a place to rest.

“Have the boys and the girls out to see him on his way, and whatever the bill is, bring it to me. He was a good game lad, and it might have been me.”

Margrita came down the steps to where Dane Clyde waited at the foot. “Did you hear the shots?” he asked.

“I did, but with all this noise—” she paused. “Was it Eldorado Johnny?”

“It was Johnny, all right, but he won’t be Chief in the town tonight, nor any night.”

“He seemed nice,” she said.

Clyde shrugged. “It is a strange sense of honor and pride they have, but they live hard and they die game, and according to their lights that is the way it should be.”

Her horse was a dappled gray, and she rode sidesaddle with her skirt spread wide over the horse’s flank. Men turned to look as she passed and some nodded, unsmiling and grave, but admiring her beauty. She rode up the canyon, looking about her to see the workmen at the mills and mines. The air was clear and cold off Sun Mountain, and she saw a road turning off to her right and took it, but after a short distance it became a road without people, empty and still.

She drew up, listening. Although still so close, the pound of the mills seemed far away. She walked on, the only other sound the creak of her saddle and the click of her horse’s hoofs on the rocks. Twice she drew up, looking at the bare rock walls where the sunlight lay warm. It was a strange, empty land, but she loved it.

Riding on, she suddenly paused. Here was a place where someone had worked. There was a hole dug near what must have been, in wet weather, a stream. Nearby there was a clump of cedar.

She heard the horse before she saw it and was suddenly aware that she was alone and far from anyone. She opened her saddlebag and started to put her hand in for her gun.

“You won’t need that.”

She turned her head sharply. It was Waggoner, sitting a big, rawboned horse and staring at her. His face was expressionless. His big hands rested on the pommel. “Ever since I seen you I knew it had to be.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t come that high an’ mighty on me. I don’t care nothin’ for that. Besides, I ain’t ready yet.”

She turned her horse, but he blocked the way. She was sorry now she had not drawn the gun. It was there, near her hand, but could she reach it in time?

He just stared at her from his sombre eyes in that gaunt, hard-stretched face.

“When I’m ready,” he said, “I’ll take you,” he snapped his fingers, “jus’ like that. You ain’t nothin’ special, you know. There’s fifty women on the Line that’s better.”

“Will you move out of the way, please?”

“When I’m damn’ good an’ ready. Like I said, you’re nothin’, but I want to drag you in the dirt, I want to show you how damn little you matter.

“I been waitin’ for you,” he added.

Everything went cold inside her. Her breath caught, and then she said, very quietly, “Now what does that mean?”

His grin was insolent. “I knew you’d come back. I just knew it. Somethin’ inside me said it. You was only a little tyke, but looked at me like I was dirt, you did.”

“I do not know what you are talking about, but if I looked at you that way, obviously my judgment was correct. Now I am going to ride out of here. Move your horse out of the way.”

“When I get good an’ ready. You jus’ sit tight, lady, or I might decide not to wait. You figure you’re somebody, you figure you’re mighty proud an’ strong. Well, you ain’t nothin’. When I get through with you, you’ll be crawlin’ to me in the dirt, beggin’ me.”

Inside she was cold and still. The man was not just talking. He meant what he said. She was frightened, but not into inaction. She must get her hand on her gun. It was only the derringer, which meant she must be close to him before she fired. He knew she had a gun, and would be careful, yet if there was a sudden movement of their horses she would be able to get the gun.

She was thinking that when they heard a horse walking.

Her hand, poised and ready, her heel ready to touch the spur to her horse’s flank on the side away from him, her mind made up to act. To try to get by in front of him would be impossible. His horse was much the heavier, and he was undoubtedly a fine horseman. A quick turn and slash at his horse’s rump, then by him and down the trail. She was inwardly poised and ready when they heard the horse’s hoofs.

She saw the sudden surge of anger and impatience in his eyes, and he started to speak when the rider appeared. He was riding a black mule.

Trevallion took in the situation at a glance, but instantly he told himself,
not now!
No gunfight here, not if it could be avoided. She could be hurt.

“Good morning!” he spoke pleasantly, walking the mule toward them. “Miss Redaway? I was just looking for you. If this gentleman will excuse us?”

Waggoner fought down the ugly fury that started to rise inside him. Cold common sense warned him. He did not doubt his ability to kill Trevallion, but Trevallion was no tenderfoot, and he would be sure to get off a shot or two, and at this range he would score.