Ralph Compton Whiskey River (15 page)

By the time they reached the upper deck, the steamboats were moving again. Clemans and Ursino stood by the rail, watching the backwash from the big paddle wheel.

“Lord, how I envy you, Mark,” Ursino said. “That's the first time anybody's ever laid a hand on Wilder. Of course, you'll have to kill him.”

“I reckon,” said Mark. “I don't take any pleasure in that, but he looks and acts like one of the varmints that won't have it any other way.”

“I think most of Estrello's outfit's of the same mind,” Clemans said, “and that won't make it any easier on us.”

“That's likely the worst part of this kind of life,” said Ursino. “Live by the gun long enough, and you know you're goin' to die by it. You become fatalistic, refusing to settle for anything less than a shoot-out.”

“Let's go sit in the wagon,” Betsy suggested. “I feel like we're being watched.”

“We are,” said Mark. “Irvin and Suggs have been told to back off, but that won't stop them from watching us every minute.”

They climbed into Jake's old wagon. It seemed they had a little privacy.

On the lower deck Irvin and Suggs sulked, suffering from the stinging rebuke they had received from Wolf Estrello. “Just what the hell kind of magic has this Harder and Rogers got, anyhow?” Suggs wondered. “I never seen any man so much as
threaten
Drew Wilder, but Rogers laid him out cold.”

“You wasn't there,” Irvin said. “How would you know?”

“No,” said Suggs, “but Walsh Tilden was, and he couldn't believe it.”

“We've made some mistakes in our time,
amigo,
but this ranks among the worst,” said Irvin. “I think by the time Estrello collects for this last batch of rotgut whiskey and gets his hands on that gold, you and me will be very, very expendable.”

“Hell, it won't be just you and me,” Suggs said. “Estrello's a greedy bastard that don't like nobody. I think we need to get some of the boys together that he's stomped on, and before he can get us, we cut his string.”

“After he's sold the whiskey and found the gold, we double-cross him,” said Irvin. “I'm not opposed to it on religious grounds, but we got the same damn trouble with some of these other varmints. Suppose we join some of these other
hombres
in double-crossing Estrello, and them that we've joined double-cross us? I wouldn't trust Wilder as far as I can flap my arms and fly, and I'd put at least half the others in the same pile.”

“Ah, hell, I don't know exactly what to do,” said Irvin. “I've never had a true friend in my life, nobody I could count on not to let me down.”

“Have I ever let you down?” Suggs asked.

“It was you bully-raggin' them damn females that got me in trouble with Estrello and Captain Jenks,” said Irvin.

Suggs laughed. “That ain't exactly like shootin' you in the back. Hell, how do I know
you
wouldn't double-cross
me,
if the pot was big enough?”

“You don't,” Irvin said. “You got my word, just like I got yours.”

Fifteen miles south of the St. Louis town limits, a huge warehouse covering many acres had all its entrances secured except the one that led to the offices near the front. In a large leather-upholstered chair sat Taylor Laird. Standing before the desk was Burt Wills, Laird's second-in-command, who engineered most of Laird's shady deals.

“Now just where the hell is Estrello and his bunch?” Laird wondered. “They should be here by now.”

“Maybe they had a fallin'-out,” said Wills. “When they get here, the new whiskey's in the kegs and waiting. It's near the dock, under heavy guard.”

Laird laughed. “I like that term, ‘new whiskey.' You reckon anybody will notice that we watered the stuff down?”

“I don't see how,” Wills said. “It's been strong enough to melt a horseshoe. It'll just take more of it for a man to get owl-eyed drunk.”

“I haven't spoken of this before,” said Laird, “and I suppose it's time that I did. After this, Captain Jenks, his crewmen, and his steamboats will no longer freight our whiskey to the landing at Fort Smith.”

“I reckon they got a reason,” Wills said.

“They
think
they have,” said Laird. “They think we've about run our course, that the law could come after us any time.”

“Well, they're right about that, I reckon,” Wills said, “but they'll never make this kind of money freighting livestock, produce, and fertilizer from St. Louis to New Orleans, and from New Orleans back to St. Louis. There's no chance of them staying on?”

“Oh, there's a chance,” said Laird, “but they want more money.”

“Which you don't intend to pay,” Wills said.

“No,” said Laird, “I don't.”

“But you're going to charge Estrello
more
for this whiskey than he's ever paid. Will he stand still for that?” Wills wondered.

“He has little choice,” said Laird. “This swill we're selling him is bootleg. If he bought the legitimate stuff, with taxes, it wouldn't be worth his while. I intend to tell him the cost of steamboat freighting just went up, and that we're adding the difference to what he's been paying.”

Wills laughed. “He'll go through the roof. You want me and some of the boys to ride down to the dock and wait for ‘em? Estrello will have a load of horses and mules, and if we don't drive 'em back, his outfit will.”

“I don't want anybody but Estrello near this place,” said Laird. “Take nine men with you, and see that the Estrello outfit stays there at the landing until it's time for them to board the steamboats and depart. Any horses or mules taken in trade, you can bring with you when you return.”

“All the other details involved in the sale, you'll handle here, then,” Wills said.

“Yes,” said Laird. “He'll have authorization from me. After he's shown it to you, see that him and his outfit goes aboard those steamboats and they get the hell out of here.”

“What about the money owed to Captain Jenks and his crews?” Wills asked.

“You'll be taking it with you,” said Laird. “I told Jenks the last time we negotiated I wouldn't pay another dollar. I'd as soon not have him here.”

“What about the horses and mules Estrello will want to trade toward the whiskey?”

“Credit him with fifty dollars for every horse and mule he has to trade,” Laird said, “but only if he has something that can pass as a bill of sale. And whatever you do, don't bring the animals here. They'll have brands all over them. Drive them directly to Bundy's place and dispose of them quickly.”

“Fifty dollars per horse or mule?”

“If you can get it,” said Laird. “I had a hell of a fight with Bundy. He's wantin' to cut us back to twenty-five.”

“Do you aim to take the cut if he won't go any better?”

“Only if there's no other way,” said Laird. “If there's anything we
don't
need, it's being stuck with branded stock and a handful of questionable bills of sale. Begin by asking for fifty a head. Bundy won't agree to that, so use your own judgment.”

“I'll round up the boys and we'll get started,” Wills said. “They're bound to get there this evening or sometime tonight.”

It was near dark when Liz Barton and Lefty Paschal reined up their horses. The wind was out of the west and brought the distinctive odor of wood smoke.

“We might as well ride on in,” Lefty said. “We're downwind, and they've heard us by now.”

It was a sensible assumption, and Liz didn't argue. When they were close enough to see the fire, there was nobody in sight. Then a cold voice issued a challenge.

“Who are you, and what do you want?”

“I'm Liz Baron, and this is Lefty Paschal. We were hoping for some supper.”

“This ain't no damn cafe,” the voice said, “but we'll share what we got. Dismount, and keepin' your hands where we can see 'em, come on to the fire.”

Liz and Lefty obeyed the command. Within the surrounding darkness, a dozen men had been concealed. Now they stepped out into the light, their hands near the butts of their revolvers. Black Bill Warnell was the leader of the bunch, and it had been he who had challenged the newcomers. He leaned his Winchester against a pine tree and turned to face Liz and Lefty. Liz Barton found herself intimidated, but there was no help for it, and she spoke as confidently as she could. Quickly, she explained what she had in mind, and some of the outlaws laughed. Black Bill spoke.

“You Bartons don't learn from your mistakes, do you? Old Frank got himself and ten other gents salted down, and now you're lookin' for some damn fools to replace them. No, ma'am, thank you.”

“Now that Frank's gone,” one of the outlaws asked, “who's
segundo
of the outfit?”

“I am,” said Liz. “What of it?”

The outlaws laughed, and there was nothing Liz Barton could do, except stand there, her face flaming red. Finally, striving to control her temper, she spoke.

“I can out-shoot and out-ride any one of you. What I'm proposing to do is take those wagonloads of whiskey from Wolf Estrello and his outfit, but I need riders.”

“I reckon there's folks in hell needin' spring water,” said Black Bill. “We know about the whiskey Estrello's been haulin' in, but we also know he's got maybe forty men. Besides old Frank, how many of your boys cashed in?”

“Too many,” Liz said, at a loss for words. “So you're scared of Estrello's bunch?”

“Hell, we're scared of
anybody's
bunch, ma'am,” said Black Bill, “when they can ride through an ambush and salt down as many men as you lost. How many of Estrello's bunch did your outfit gun down?”

“I . . . I'm not sure,” Liz said.

“None,” said Black Bill. “Two of 'em were slightly wounded. Now I got one more thing to ask you. Why in thunder did Frank attack Estrello's bunch on their way to get the whiskey? The damn wagons was empty.”

“Frank hated Estrello and wanted to kill as many of the outfit as he could,” Liz said. “I didn't favor it. We don't intend to get involved in
anything
from now on if there's no money in it.”

“Well, you got
that
part of it headed in the right direction,” said Black Bill. “Trouble is, if you go after Estrello's bunch and those wagonloads of whiskey, you'll be joining old Frank in hell, or wherever he turns up.”

“Let's go, Lefty,” Liz said.

“You're welcome to stay and eat,” said Black Bill. “We got a bottle of whiskey, and we can drink to old Frank's memory.”

“Damn them,” Liz gritted.

“That fool attack that got Frank killed is gonna hurt us,” said Lefty. “If this bunch has heard of it, the others will have, too.”

When the steamboats again stopped to take on wood, Estrello made his way from the Aztec to the Star. He said nothing to Captain Jenks, but sought out Amanda and Betsy. He ignored Bill and Mark when he spoke.

“Ladies, we'll reach St. Louis sometime tonight, and we'll be returning to Fort Smith as soon as possible. Putting it bluntly, the two of you know where the gold is, and one way or another, you're going to lead me to it. I prefer not to get nasty, but I can and I will if you force my hand. Are you going to cooperate?”

Amanda and Betsy looked helplessly at Bill and Mark.

“If you do them any harm, Estrello, you'll do it over our dead bodies,” Mark said.

Estrello's laugh was an ugly sound. “That can be arranged.”

“If we lead you to the gold,” Betsy pleaded, “will you let those of us go in peace, who are tired of this kind of life?”

“Why shouldn't I?” asked Estrello. “Neither of you can implicate me. It'll be your word against mine. Now I want some general idea as to where we'll be going.”

“No,” Amanda said. “We'll tell you when we return to the Washita.”

“You'll tell me now,” said Estrello ominously.

Irvin and Suggs, sensing trouble, leaned against the pilothouse within gun range. Their thumbs were hooked in their belts near the butts of their Colts. Estrello was in the position of having them in a crossfire if he chose.

“Go ahead and tell him the general area, Amanda,” Mark said. “Nothing specific.”

“It's within twenty-five miles of the Washita,” Amanda said, “and that's all you'll be told until we return there.”

“Very well,” said Estrello, “I shall count on that. I trust neither of you will forget the penalty for lying to me, or attempting to double-cross me.”

“There'll be a considerable penalty if
you
pull any tricks on
us,”
Bill warned.

“I said the ladies are free to go, once I know where the gold is,” said Estrello. “I'm not including anybody else in the deal.”

“You lie,” Betsy shouted. “Amanda wasn't asking for freedom for just the two of us, and you know it.”

Estrello laughed. “So you have friends who wish to forsake me and ride with you. I'll assure you I have a reasonably good idea as to who they are, and when the time comes, I will deal directly with them.”

He said no more, but made his way down the ramp, past the sweating men who were bringing wood aboard the steamboat. Amanda and Betsy stood there, clenching their fists and gritting their teeth. Irvin and Suggs grinned, aggravating Amanda and Betsy all the more.