“I’ll replace it.”
Her hand touched his arm as he rose and stood over the shrouded figure. The two were twins and they shared a special connection that most normal siblings didn't possess. He knew that she could tell just how deeply troubled he was.
“I’m not worried about that. Who was he?”
“A friend and a casualty of Mayor Dalton’s attempt to seize this entire town. I’ll tell you everything, Mickey, but first, by God, we are going to find out why this is happening!”
She followed behind him as he strode over to the man sprawled on the far side of the wagon. Riker knelt to next to Ramírez who was engaged in the business of dying. His hands clutched his ruined stomach, trying to keep his insides from spilling out. His mouth frothed with blood.
"Do … do me one kindness. End this for me quick …" the man pleaded as he reached one hand weakly up towards Riker. He looked at the outlaw with pitiless eyes, knowing how a gut-shot man could linger in agony for hours before he succumbed. That was what this man deserved but … if he could tell him what he wanted to know, then he would grant him the mercy.
Riker thumbed back the hammer and poked the barrel up against the side of the man’s head. In a cold hard voice, he made his demand.
“I’ll do it. I’ll end your suffering, but I want to know a couple of things. If I’m so much trouble for Dalton, why hasn’t he tried to kill me? More importantly, why is he doing all this? What’s the end game?”
The answers came through a ragged voice that occasionally had to fall silent as the man coughed blood that splattered on his neck and chest as McKenna helped hold the man’s head up. When at last Riker learned the truth, his eyes told McKenna to release the man and move out of the way and a moment later the sound of a solitary shot echoed away into the surrounding woods.
CHAPTER 42
Riker stood on the porch with Callie at his side with his gaze falling upon nearly a dozen men that were assembled in front of him. McKenna was going from man to man intent on giving them one last opportunity to review the handling of the rifles and pistols he had secured from Fort Creighton. They were all good men facing a frightening situation. Their daily lives and vocations didn’t call for having to stand up against a slew of armed outlaws masquerading as law enforcement, making such a mockery of it that it angered Riker to his core. Glancing at Callie next to him, she could see her eyes searching down the road that led to the ranch, waiting for the same thing that he was.
The hours had all blurred together since he and McKenna had arrived back at the Becketts’ with the cache of weapons in the midafternoon following hiding the bodies of Bowler and Ramírez in the woods. The joy the Becketts had shown at the sight of the wagon rolling up with the piano immediately evaporated when they saw the grave look on Riker’s face and a body wrapped in a blanket. Callie especially had taken the old man’s death hard. Stoically Luther said McBride had been a much-loved man about the town and Riker hadn’t doubted that for a minute. The ranch hands had respectfully carried the body to a root cellar and tomorrow after it was all over, the Becketts had vowed to see him to the undertaker for proper care.
Once McBride had been seen to, men had been dispatched to discreetly alert the handful of trusted men to come to the ranch. As they waited for their arrival, Callie had relayed that a pair of Peace Officers had indeed come around looking for Riker, but the Becketts had stonewalled them. When the pair had left, the family gave thanks that Bryant sent two of the slower-witted of his men that were easily duped. Still, one had warned them just before they rode off that if they were found to be lying, they would be answering to Bryant himself who had sent them because he was busy burying Farley Spencer.
When the summoned men had arrived, McKenna and Luther, the war veteran from the Mexican War that he was, immediately began to instruct those unfamiliar with such weapons on their operation. Riker had shut himself in Johann's old bedroom with just Callie as a sounding board to allow himself to think and to plan. They had arms once again, and they were more organized than ever before, but the Peace Officers were a dangerous threat. Riker knew he had to come up with something that could increase their chances of victory and minimize the losses on their side as much as possible. These were civilians, after all, who never asked for a private little war to come to their town.
Riker had sat on a chair in one corner of the room and stared out the window, as he began grilling Callie on everything she knew about the Peace Officers, most specifically where they were housed. As his eyes took in the sight of McKenna showing a man who was clearly a farmer how to brace the stock of a rifle against his shoulder, he listened to Callie say that Dalton kept them in a building behind the town hall. Pressing her, he asked more about it. Callie related how in a prior century monks had built a convent here hoping to convert the natives to Christianity. Eventually, their hopes had come to an end when a fever wiped out the Order and the church eventually crumbled over the ensuing years. However, the adjacent stone building that had been the living quarters had survived more or less intact. When the Dalton family first arrived in the area, the patriarch renovated it as a place to house his family and the other settlers that traveled with them as they built what was now the flourishing town of Dalton’s Creek. Until the arrival of Peace Officers, Dalton had used it as a storage place for his feed for his horse-trading business among other things.
A possibility had beckoned to Riker, and he had asked about their meals. She was puzzled why he wanted to know about that, and he inquired if they took them all at the same time. Callie said she had seen lunches and dinners being brought to them from the restaurant that Judge Crockett had foreclosed upon just before the arrival of Dalton’s men. He looked out the window at the sun low in the sky. If they all took dinner in what he was now thinking of as their barracks, that held a possibility. They could surround the place and demand their surrender.
With a sigh, he had dismissed the idea almost as quickly as it had come to him. They were unlikely to surrender, surrounded or not with a highly defensible position to hold off his makeshift force of greenhorns. He could picture the Peace Officers shooting out the windows picking off his recruits. There had to be a better way and they needed to come up with some type of advantage. He began to consider the lay of the land that made up the main street, perhaps something there could help him. Tapping Callie's knowledge of her town, he asked her to describe the main street in detail, everything from the shops to the alleyways.
As she had gone about it, one thing in particular suddenly caught his interest when she mentioned the horse corral where Dalton kept his chief source of income. As she moved on to continue listing the different business that started up past where the corral was, his mind was still on the corral, remembering how he and McKenna conversed by it before she had left for Pine Bluff. Then he had remembered the dog being chased and the sharp turn it had made into a wide alley just past the corral.
Riker had held up his hand to silence Callie. She had quickly fallen silent but had given him a look of thorough puzzlement. He had swiftly apologized and said the seed of an idea had just come to him. Callie's face had shone with enthusiasm, and she had drawn close to him and knelt beside his chair.
"Tell me as much as you can about the alleys on the main street, especially the ones near the horse corral," he had said. As he listened, he liked more and more what he was hearing. An hour later, after consulting with McKenna, he had assembled the men in the ranch's dining room. He had called them to gather around the table. No sooner had they done so, McKenna had entered from Johann's bedroom where she had been hard at work sketching on the back of a large sheet of paper Callie had scrounged up for her. Riker had spread the sketch of the main street his sister had done under Callie's description and laid out his plan.
Now at last, here on the porch less than an hour away from sunset they waited. All heads suddenly turned to the road as Crewson came charging up on his horse. Without preamble, he dropped down in front of the group that clust
ered around him. Pulling free the cigarette that dangled from his mouth the Scandinavian blacksmith reported in.
“The men have the wagons in place and the Peace Officers have just sat down to their dinners!”
Riker jammed his thumbs into his belt and looked around at the citizens that were about to take a stand for the soul of their town and smiled his encouragement.
“Then there will never be a better time. It’s time to swear you in and then let’s ride, people!”
CHAPTER 43
Could this day get any worse? It was a fair question that raced through the mind of Mayor Danforth Dalton as he sat across from the fastidiously dressed China man in the opposite chair. The man was of slender build, the complete opposite of the hulking Chinese companion who stood silently behind the man with his arms crossed. Several minutes of silence had passed since the man began sipping his tea. Finally, he put the cup and saucer down and looked at Dalton through his round spectacles.
At last the blasted foreigner was going to say something, Dalton thought bitterly. He had cursed when the men arrived unexpectedly a few hours ago. They were a good two days earlier than he had been expecting them and he had immediately known it was a tactic to catch him off guard and get a better sense of the true situation in Dalton's Creek. Accepting this, he had entertained them by showing them the town that was the very reason they were here.
The entire time he couldn't relax knowing that the troublemaking stranger was still out there. Riker hadn't been seen in over a day and that worried him considerably. Crockett had tried to float the idea that Riker seemed to be a drifter and probably left town to join his sister wherever that woman had gone to. Dalton, however, wasn't that naïve to think Riker was gone for good. Wherever he was, he was up to something, and he couldn't have trouble while representatives of Madam Daiyu Chen were in town.
“Mister Dalton … forgive me, Mayor Dalton, the tour of this town earlier tells me that Madam Chen will have no difficulties selling shares in it.”
For the first time since Chao Tzen had arrived, Dalton felt a flush of relief come over him hearing the praise. Tzen's next words served only to deflate his newfound exhilaration immediately.
"However, you are behind schedule. This town is filled with residents. They were to be gone by now. This shall bring great displeasure to Madam Chen. Great displeasure," he repeated, giving Dalton a hard look.
“It’s not as bad as it seems,” Dalton said quickly. “We’ve cleared out over half the town with new departures daily. My Peace Officers are seeing to that. There are numerous empty properties.” There had been one less, of course, he thought, keeping to himself that one of the Peace Officers had foolishly acted without authorization burning down the Dixon farm during the arms collection. For depriving them of the asset he had ordered Bryant to handle it, which he had, and now there was a fresh grave out behind the barracks where the men slept.
“Brutes with guns, you mean. Thugs that Madam Chen has been supplying you the funds to pay for,” Tzen said curtly bringing Dalton’s mind back into focus.
“And my bank has aided them in all the foreclosures,” chimed in Judge Crockett who had been silently standing to the side smoking a pipe. Tzen ignored the justice and took another sip of his tea.
"I fear when I report back to the Madam, she may have misgivings about this whole operation."
The words stabbed at Dalton's heart. If this whole plan fell apart, he would likely remain trapped in the town that bore his name — consigned to eking out a living through his horse-trading business when he desired more, far more. With the money he would make on this deal if he wished to stay behind in America rather than go abroad, he could launch his political career and make a name for himself in California and beyond.
Suddenly the door flew open and Dalton found himself amazed how quickly the big China man behind Tzen spun around and drew a concealed weapon from within the folds of his jacket. Bryant, who had burst in, threw his hands up in the air.
“Whoa now, big fella! No need to be brandishing iron!”
Tzen glared at him as he waved his man to stand down. "Chang speaks no English," he said as Dalton leaped from his chair and crossed the parlor to pull Bryant aside. In a low voice, he hissed, "What are you doing barging in here when I am meeting with the Chinese?"
"There's trouble. Two of my men didn't come back from the checkpoint. I went out to look for them, but there was no sign of hide nor hair of them … but I found blood on the road and shell casings."
Dalton went gray as he took in the news. What had become of the men he had no idea, but a certainty stabbed at his gut as to who was responsible for their sudden disappearance—Riker. It had to be that blasted interloping stranger. Enough was enough! It was time to take this to the next level. If Riker were back from wherever he had been, then the people who would certainly know where he was at this moment and what he was up to, it would be the Becketts. He would order Bryant to take some men out and torture Callie Beckett as her father and the reverend watched until they talked. His mouth fell open to give the command when the sound of gunfire ripped through the air.
All the men in the room save for Tzen who reached over to the tea service next to his chair and poured himself a fresh beverage rushed to the window to look out. The sun was setting behind the hills that lay beyond the far end of the main street, so they had to shield their eyes, but Dalton was able to make out eight figures at that far end lowering their rifles after having shot straight up into the air. His hands gripping the window sill, as he studied the scene, felt like they could splinter the wood as his fingers tightened in anger and he snapped his head toward Bryant.
“You assured me that all the guns were rounded up and secured in the basement of this very building!”
“They were! They are! I don’t know where these came from,” he blurted out, but Dalton was no longer looking at him. His focus was back down the street. It was too far away to be able to tell who anyone was, especially with the glare in his eyes, but it took no imagination to guess that the tall man in the row was Nash Riker.
“Trouble, Mayor Dalton?” Tzen said calmly eyeing him.
“Nothing that can’t be handled. I don’t know what those men are up to, but whatever it is, well, it’s as good as over! Bryant, roust the Peace Officers and go handle this!”
“Yes, sir!” Bryant had barely finished speaking before he had dashed back through the still open door, bounding down the stairs heading for the barracks behind the town hall. When he arrived, he found the men already strapping on their sidearms, having heard the same shots.
***
Riker and seven of his newly deputized friends took a position at the far end of the main street near Johann's church. He took a moment to look at the faces that included the Beckett father and daughter, Crewson and Jeffries, the barber, before giving a silent nod. As one the band of vigilantes brought their weapons up, discharging them towards the heavens to get the Peace Officers' attention. Their plan had been set and was now being unleashed.
Farther up the street, crouched down inside of Dalton's sizable horse corral, McKenna was reasonably confident her brother's plan would reap success as long as everything went according to plan. Of course, she asked herself, how often did that happen? Anxiously, she patted the nearby horse she was hidden behind and waited her turn. Peering out from behind her companion, a giant gray gelding, she gazed through the fencing spotting fifteen to twenty Peace Officers walking out onto the street having emerged from behind the town hall. The men appeared not to be in any hurry and some even walked with a swagger.
That’s right, underestimate us! She thought as she moved to duck down behind a large trough. Peeking around the side, McKenna focused her eyes toward the second floor of the Hotel Franco, waiting to play her role. The voices of the Peace Officers, as they grew closer, were tinged with a cocky confidence because they had the trouble makers outnumbered … or so it appeared.
McKenna glanced up to where the men had come
from and saw the first part of the plan unfold as two large prepositioned wagons were rolled out into the street from the alleys on opposite sides, blocking the street. The Peace Officers bringing up the rear of their mob noted the occurrence. Not understanding the purpose of it, raised voices of consternation crackled in the air, but the men kept heading towards her brother and the townsfolks.
Then above she saw the arms of Johann Beckett thrust through an open second-floor window of the Franco holding a flag. The Reverend, wanting to fight the men but still morally compelled not to raise a weapon, had eagerly volunteered to wave the signal flag once the bad men had moved entirely past the horse. That was her cue, and she launched into action rising from her place of concealment and slipping between the rails of the fence. Wasting no time, she undid the clasp holding the gate shut and her well-muscled arms pushed the massive gate open. She then darted back within the confines of the pen, weaving her way to the back. McKenna began flapping the red rags she had stuffed into her pockets, slapping the horses on their rears to get them moving. The tension in the air and her prodding was enough to get them spooked and running free through the gate. Blocked by the pair of wagons to the left, the horses turned and began thundering towards the startled, phony lawmen.
Realizing they were in trouble, the Peace Officers' boots began to pound the street as they started shouting and running towards Riker and the waiting townsfolk, away from the stampede. The second part of the plan sprang to life as another pair of prepositioned wagons were rolled out of the next set of alleys, trapping the horses. Riker had planned it, so his people too didn't have to face the onslaught of a horde of horses charging their way while trying to handle Dalton's men.
Six-Guns Or Surrender (Lincoln's Lawman Book 1) Page 26
