The marshals and deputies riding their Hogs had spread out through the center of town at the first sign of trouble. As they had ridden in, several suspicious figures fled before them. They had seen at least three bodies lying at various points along their journey that had been left to rot in the sun. Smoke was also rising from a couple points farther back in town. Wyatt had set his men to create a perimeter and move no further until they learned what had happened, but a dark thought moved in the back of his mind… he was afraid he already knew.
The UR-30 units with the Over-marshal had been unable to establish contact with the unit assigned to Diablo Canyon, and that could mean nothing good. An Enforcer unit, even after it was rendered non-operational through damage or malfunction, should still be able to relate its position to another unit unless catastrophic damage to its reporter beacons had occurred. They were getting absolutely nothing from the Diablo Canyon unit.
The people of the town slowly came out from hiding as they realized who the lawmen were. They seemed shy, as if expecting violence to erupt around them at any time. Wyatt tried to reassure them, but they were unable or unwilling to believe him when he said that the worst was over. He had his men interview as many folks as he could track down and it quickly became clear what had happened.
Wyatt called Virgil, Doc, and Morgan to him while he left the judge to push the cordon of lawmen wider into the city to look for some of the local perpetrators.
“Well, this ain’t good.” Wyatt spat into the dust of the street. “Looks like we got road agents ridin’ into town, blowin’ the center of the burg down to get at the UR-30, and then clearin’ out with some equipment. They then run into some Army boys down south, kick up a terrible ruckus, and then… no one seems to know.” He shook his head. “You boys get anything better than that?”
“No one’s talkin’, Wyatt.” Virgil gave a sour look at a knot of townsfolk standing in the shade of an overhang across the street. ”Since the Enforcer got taken down, things have gone to hell in a hand basket here. Folks that’d been clingin’ to grudges for over a decade came out’o the woodwork. There’s been a lot of dyin’ ever since.”
Morgan’s eyes moved from face to face from within the iron framework of his support suit. It was clear he would have nodded if he could. “Someone took out the robot, then fought a major battle with the Army. They ain’t here anymore, and neither is the Army. None of that makes any sense.”
“Why take out the robot if they weren’t plannin’ on stayin’?” Doc was staring at a massive hole that had been blown in a building down the street. “It’s not like it’s an easy trick.”
“An’ our own units haven’t had any luck trackin’ anyone leavin’.” Wyatt nodded. “A lot of trails out to the battle sight, from a bunch of different directions, and then runnin’ away. But nothin’ clear. An’ with the ol’ railroad messin’ with their head lamps, there ain’t no way we’re gonna be able to track ‘em out o’ town this time.”
“I don’t see what else we can do, Wyatt.” Virgil’s face was long, his slow voice full of anger and regret. “He’ll turn up again soon, his kind always does. That is, if he didn’t get beefed by the Army boys over there so bad we couldn’t even recognize the body.” He shrugged. “Might be Jesse James is dead, Wyatt.”
The Over-marshal barked a sharp laugh. “I ain’t never been that lucky, Virg, and I ain’t likely gonna start bein’ now.” He looked back at the heavy wagon. “No, someone come in here a day ‘r so ago and did all this, and there ain’t no way we’re gonna pin it on anyone without some of these local yokels bein’ willin’ to talk more than they are.”
“Maybe if you leave them a UR-30 unit?” Morgan’s buzzing voice was nearly devoid of all human emotion, but it managed to convey a sense of dismay at his brother’s resignation.
“’Course we will, Morg. We ain’t gonna leave these folks high and dry.” Wyatt forced himself to pat the hulking form of his brother on one broad shoulder, trying not to wonder if he could feel it. “Problem’s more long range than that, though. We nearly had Jesse James, boys. We were closin’ in on him, and it looked like we might even hook William Bonney into the bargain. Now… this?” He gestured at the shattered town.
“You reckon we move back to Tombstone, then, Wyatt?” Virgil’s voice was bitter.
Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t know what else we can do, Virg.”
“Unless we suddenly run into an old friend that might be willing to help… “ Doc’s muffled voice was amused, and everyone turned to look at him. Without moving his eyes, Holliday nodded the brim of his hat in that direction. They all turned to stare at the distant telegraph office and the woman who had just emerged, blinking, into the sunshine.
“Well I’ll be damned.” Wyatt whispered.
“Most assuredly.” Doc muttered, casting him a sidelong glance. “But hopefully not for awhile yet. You reckon she might know somethin’ about all this?”
“I ain’t got a better idea. Boys, you stay with the wagon. Keep an eye out for that yahoo partner of hers. Morgan, why don’t you come on over with me. Let’s go have a chat with the lovely agent, shall we?”
Wyatt crossed the street at a brisk pace, his brother’s heavy footsteps thundering along behind him. He saw the woman turn towards the edge of town and called out in a sharp voice, “A word, agent Loveless, if you don’t mind?”
Lucinda Loveless turned quickly, her hand flashing down and back to her bustle. She stopped as she recognized the Over-marshal. A professional smile pursed her full lips as he jogged up beside her. She nodded politely, then without missing a beat nodded to Morgan as well. “Gentlemen.Fancy meeting you all the way out here.”
“Miss, if you don’t mind me askin’, how in the Sam Hill did you manage to beat us out here?” Wyatt’s hands were on his hips as if berating a schoolgirl.
“Well, let’s just say the kindness of new friends in… high places… and leave it at that, shall we?” Her smile turned slightly mischievous.
“Friends?” The word was so flat as it left the Over-marshal’s mouth it could have been his brother who had spoken.
“Well, perhaps friends is a strong word.” She shrugged. “Let’s say happy acquaintances. Or at least, our sudden acquaintance was happy for me, anyway.” Again she flashed them the perfect smile.
Wyatt waved the smile and the non-explanation off. “Never mind, then. Do you have any idea what happened here? Where is everyone?”
Lucinda looked surprised. “Why, whomever do you mean, Over-marshal? Are there stalwart townsfolk missing?”
“There’s a field of corpses just outside of town, miss.” Morgan’s voice caught her off-guard, Wyatt could tell. “And innocent civilians are dyin’ in Diablo Canyon itself. Your jokes ain’t proper at a time like this. You work fer the president, you might wanna start helpin’ his people, ‘stead of laughin’ at their expense.”
That seemed to trouble her, and the smile faded. “I’m sorry. It’s been terrible since… since the whole thing began.”
Wyatt smiled with the flat eyes of a serpent. “Well, why don’t we start there, then. What is the whole thing that began?”
Loveless looked into Wyatt’s eyes for a moment and he could tell she was weighing something in her mind. When her smile returned, he knew whatever she said next was going to be suspect.
“Well, it was Billy the Kid and his gang, Over-marshal. Came in here, shooting up the town, and took out the UR-30 Enforcer.” Her gaze was steady, her smile firm, and her tone even. He sighed, knowing the truth would be permanently locked behind that professional façade.
“That what you just reported to the president?” Wyatt nodded towards the telegraph office behind her.
Loveless nodded. “Yes, as a matter of fact it is.” She injected some iron into her tone with the artful skill of a professional actress. “I’m not in the habit of including anything beyond the truth in my reports, Over-marshal.”
Wyatt shook his head. “Well of course not, miss. I
’d expect nothing less from Washington’s finest.” He made no attempt to hide the frustration in his tone. “You wouldn’t happen to know what… Billy… did to the robot, would you?”
She smiled again. “Well, Over-marshal, some of the boys in the saloon were saying as how they watched Billy and his gang bring it to where the tracks lift off into the canyon and toss it down. I didn’t go over to see for myself, not having a head for heights, you know. I don’t see why they would have lied.” Her smile grew coy. “It’s not like it’s a very interesting story, anyway, is it?”
Wyatt shook his head again. “Of course not. I’ll have some of my men check it out, see if the remains are retrievable.” He looked back at the wagon where the lawmen were gathering, coming back from combing the town. He started to walk back but then stopped and turned.
“You didn’t happen to see Billy, or anyone else suspicious, leavin’ town, did you?”
Again her gaze was steady, looking him right in the eye. “I’m sorry, Over-marshal. I arrived after the whole uproar was long over. I did not see anyone leave town at all. When I got here, all the major characters had already fled.”
He nodded, not breaking eye contact for a moment. “So, there is no way you can assist my men and me in following these animals and stopping their violent attacks on decent folks.” His voice, again, was flat.
She looked into his eyes and he could tell there was something more churning just beneath the surface. There were choices being made, and he would not be privy to them or their consequences. She blinked once, the only concession to an expression she made, and then her beautiful face pivoted on her perfect neck in the most graceful negation he had ever seen.
“No, Over-marshal. I’m afraid I can’t think of any way I could help.”
Chapter 16
From the northern edge of the canyon, Jesse had a perfect view of the cave and the men standing around nearby. Most of Billy’s gang were scattered towards the eastern end to avoid the worst of the dust and noise. Johnny Ringo and the Apache Kid, however, had not moved. They were almost directly below Jesse, with no way to avoid them. Still, they were probably the greatest threats in the entire canyon, after Billy himself, so it only made sense that he take care of them first.
The problem, as Jesse saw it, was that he did not want to kill Johnny Ringo. He knew Ringo was some kind of distant cousin to the Youngers. No matter what happened out in no-man’s land, no matter where Frank was, Jesse would need to put together a new gang if he was going to take Lucy’s advice and brace a more meaningful challenge. That would be a lot easier with the Youngers riding with him.
There was a pyramid of blaster rifles standing against each other about ten feet past Ringo and the Kid, and Jesse knew that if he could get there, he would be able to lay down enough fire to keep the rest of the gang at bay until he could get to Billy. He had to figure the engineers from Diablo Canyon would not a threat. As soon as he could take care of Billy, he would not have to worry about the rest of the gang.
Across the canyon, the driller stalked back into the shadows, and Jesse knew that at any moment, the horrific noise and billowing dust would begin again. They would find what they were looking for soon, and after that, there would be no chance for him to take anyone by surprise. He was going to have to strike soon or lose his chance forever.
Jesse shuffled around the lip of the canyon, shifting his weight beneath him as he prepared to leap. He had a moment’s doubt. What if his arms acted up again? He was about to jump into the middle of a hostile gang. If his arms were not at their absolute best, he was going to buy a nice six foot stretch of sand for sure. But there was nothing else he could do. Alone, without food or water or enough fuel to get out of the desert, his back was well and truly against the wall.
The thought of water sent a sharp pang through his throat, which set the rest of his injuries to throbbing as well. Rather than frighten him, however, it only made him smile. He was worried about his arms being at their best? There was not a single part of his body that was currently working in tip top shape. His arms, very probably, were the least of his concerns. At the same time he reached this conclusion, the howling roar of the driller machine echoed out of the cavern. Without another thought, Jesse dropped.
He landed on Ringo’s back, planting the heels of his boots on the other man’s shoulder blades and pushing down with all his strength. Ringo was launched down onto his face into the sharp rocks on the valley floor. Without pausing to regain his balance, Jesse used his momentum off Ringo’s back to fly up and over the Injun outcast they called the Apache Kid. He flipped his orientation over the other man’s back, landing on his feet behind him.
The Kid spun in place, his hands flashing to the knives at his waist. As the ebony blades left their sheathes, they blazed an intense bluish white, spirit fire igniting up their entire lengths. The light guttered and failed as Jesse brought first one pistol butt and then the other down on the Kid’s head. The man staggered backwards into the sun, legs unsteady and face slack behind the war paint. Jesse jumped back up into the air, planted one boot on the man’s chest, and shoved him backwards into the pile of rifles. Following up mercilessly, one final blow to the back of the head sent the renegade warrior slumping into the rock and sand.
Jesse looked up quickly, but the other men in the canyon had noticed nothing. They were either absorbed in the raucous drilling, or looking down or away, trying to ignore the sound. Jesse moved towards the scattered rifles, picking one up and moving towards a pile of broken rock for cover. He felt a near-constant itching between his shoulder blades as his mind constantly reminded him that he was alone. Frank was not above, watching through Sophie’s scope to take out any threat Jesse had missed. Cole was not nearby, ready to lend the weight of his guns to the battle. Jesse was completely alone.
He was surrounded by enemies that had once been his friends. Nearly everyone in this canyon had ridden at his side at one time or another. He had trusted most of him with his life, and they had trusted him. Even if he had been planning on euchering Billy over this latest find, Jesse would have made sure he got his cut! He was not going to cut him off completely, let alone leave him in the middle of a battle to die!
Whether Jesse believed his own thoughts would be something for a deeper man to contemplate, but in that instant, grasping the butt of a stolen blaster rifle to his chest and preparing to brace an entire gang on his own, he believed it wholeheartedly. The righteous indignation fueled his anger to new, boiling heights.
Jesse was so tense, so wrapped up with his own thoughts, that he did not at first register when the drilling machine suddenly stopped. A shout from deep within the tunnel snapped him back into the moment at the same time that most of the men he was aiming towards all turned to look into the shadows as well. A strange smell tainted the air, but Jesse was so aggravated he could not be bothered to notice. In front of him, the men began to move towards the cave. He could tell, although they were not visible from his current position, that Billy must have disappeared inside.
He was too late. They had found what they were looking for, they would take it out, and he had lost his only chance to strike from surprise. His anger, towering a moment ago, reached even new, impressive heights. There were no more distracting thoughts of Lucy or Misty, no more worrying about Frank or the Coles. He had had everything taken from him. He was alone in the middle of the desert. He had followed what he felt was his destiny laid clearly before him. And now he had nothing.
Without a thought, Jesse stood up with the blaster and started to fire into the small group of Billy’s remaining men as they moved towards the cave. The first blasts caught them completely unawares. Two outlaws were struck in the chest, their bodies shuddering with the impact as dust flashed off them in a halo, knocked clear with the impact. They flew backwards into the rest, the light fading from their eyes before they even knew they were in danger. The rest of the men stopped walking, cringing backwards in surprise and reaching for their own guns.
>
Jesse screamed again, his wounded throat opening blood frothing from his mouth as he charged forward. He fired the rifle over and over again, bracing it against his hip as he ran. There was no way the hyper-velocity pistols would have had range to reach his targets, so it was a good thing he had grabbed the rifle. There was no room in his frantic mind for rational thought now, and he would have fired with any weapon he had to hand. More of his shots blasted into the tightly packed enemy, knocking two more men down. Blood sprayed into the dust-covered canyon.
By the time Jesse had crossed half the distance between himself and Billy’s gang, the survivors had begun to return fire. They blasted bolts of crimson light back at the figure running towards them as if it were a vengeful ghost roaring up out of hell. Jesse’s extensive injuries, the dust covering him from head to toe, and the hoarse, hollow cry that was escaping his wide, cracked lips all combined to reinforce the image. Fear had a terrible effect on the men’s aim.
Jesse rushed through the oncoming wave of blaster fire with no thought at all to his own safety or survival. He had lost everything. Now, he would take everything. Suddenly the blaster rifle was ran dry, its charge light dull. He tossed the weapon aside and his custom pistol leapt into his hands. The sheer number of shots he poured downrange was staggering. The three survivors, faced with that hurricane of ruby light, dropped their own pistols and fled down the canyon in their efforts to escape.
Jesse had just enough presence of mind to stop himself from rushing into the desert after the fleeing shapes. He paused for a moment, breath heaving in tortured lungs, and searched around for something else to destroy. The madness of the moment clouded his eyes, but eventually his fevered gaze fell upon the cavern entrance. He pivoted on the spot to rush headlong into the darkness.
Inside the new smell was far more intense, but he was even less inclined to stop and consider it now. The floor of the cavern was irregular, and the bulk of the driller loomed up ahead, lighting the cavern with red-tinged beams slung from the thing’s flanks and belly. The engine was on but idling low, giving out a constant, low-grade buzzing sound to reverberate in the darkness.
The Jessie James Archives Page 32
