Day of Rage

by William W. Johnstone

  He could reveal who he really was and arrest her, but then what would he do with her? There was a jail here in Purgatory where he could lock her up, but he didn’t really trust Marshal Hinkle to keep her behind bars. Besides, what would there be to stop her from telling anybody who would listen that he was a deputy United States marshal? That was something he was trying to avoid for the time being.

  An idea occurred to him. It was risky, but it was really the only thing he could do.

  “I don’t believe in telling anybody my plans unless I’m sure I can trust them,” he went on. “And there’s only one way I know I can trust you, Sophie.”

  “Fine,” she said. She reached for the top button on her traveling outfit.

  “That’s not what I meant,” John Henry said quickly.

  She lowered her hands and said, “Oh.” John Henry thought she sounded a little disappointed. “What did you mean, then?”

  “I was suggesting that you and I should throw in together. There’s a whole gang besides us after that gold, you know.”

  “The Gilmore gang,” she said. “I’ve heard about them. And I’ve also heard that you’ve tangled with them a couple of times already.”

  John Henry shrugged.

  “We’re going to have to swipe it out from under their noses. We’ll have a better chance of doing that if we’re working together, rather than against each other, as well. And a two-way split would be better than getting nothing at all.”

  “Who said it would be a two-way split?” Sophie asked.

  John Henry frowned and asked, “What do you mean?”

  The door opened behind him, and a familiar voice said, “The lady means she already has a partner. Don’t move, mister, or I’ll blow your head off.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Well, well,” John Henry said. “Doc Mitchum. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “I meant what I said,” the old snake oil salesman warned. “Don’t try anything or I’ll shoot.”

  “Not fast enough to stop me from pulling the trigger and killing your partner here,” John Henry said. “The two of you are partners, aren’t you? I should have figured that out from how nosy you were on the train, Doc. You were trying to find out who I was, too, and when you weren’t able to get anything except my name, Sophie moved in.”

  Sophie looked past John Henry and said, “Don’t shoot him, Doc. He wants to work together with us.”

  Mitchum snorted.

  “I heard that while I was listening through the door. And of course he says he wants to work together. But why should we trust him, and more importantly, why do we need him?”

  “Maybe because I’ve already knocked out four members of the competition?” John Henry suggested.

  “It’s true,” Sophie said with a nod. “He’s killed two of Gilmore’s men and wounded a couple of others.”

  Doc Mitchum closed the door, then moved into the room and circled widely around John Henry, giving him plenty of room and not coming within reach. John Henry watched the man from the corner of his eye and saw that Mitchum had a dubious frown on his face and a small-caliber pistol in his hand.

  “I heard about that,” Mitchum admitted. “It still doesn’t mean we should let him in on the deal.”

  “You wouldn’t be letting me in on anything,” John Henry pointed out. “I already know about the gold.”

  “Could we please just stop pointing guns at each other?” Sophie asked. “It’s starting to make me nervous.”

  Still frowning, Mitchum said, “I’ll put my gun away if you will, Sixkiller.”

  “How about we just lower them instead?” John Henry said. “I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable holstering my iron just yet.”

  “Fine.” Mitchum lowered the small pistol he held.

  John Henry pointed his Colt at the floor and asked Sophie, “Better now?”

  “Much,” she said fervently. “Listen, Doc, we knew we’d have to recruit somebody here in Purgatory to help us. We can’t pull off a heist like this by ourselves.”

  “Yeah, but whoever we hired wasn’t going to know what we were after until it was too late to double-cross us.” Mitchum nodded toward John Henry. “He already knows about it.”

  “All the more reason to considering joining forces. Otherwise, it’s going to be a three-way scramble for that gold.”

  “At least three ways,” John Henry put in. “We can’t be sure that nobody else in town knows about it and is planning to make a try for it.”

  “He’s right,” Sophie said.

  “I don’t trust him,” Mitchum said stubbornly.

  “You think I do? I’m just trying to make the best of a bad situation, that’s all.”

  He looked at her with narrowed eyes.

  “You sure it’s not more than that? You sure you haven’t let this fella’s looks take you in?”

  “He’s not exactly what I’d call good-looking,” Sophie said in a scornful voice. “Look at him. He’s been in too many fights in his life. And think about it, Doc . . . Have you ever known me to let my judgment be compromised by a man?”

  “Well, come to think of it, no,” Mitchum admitted. “You’ve always had a pretty level head on your shoulders.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you haven’t forgotten that.”

  John Henry said, “I sort of feel like a piece of livestock, the way you two are talking about me like I’m not here, or too dumb to understand what you’re saying, anyway.”

  Mitchum ignored him and went on, “There’s something else I’m worried about. What if we agree to work with him, and then he goes to the law and tells them we’re after the gold? That’d be a good way for him to get rid of us.”

  “Then we’d turn right around and accuse him of the same thing,” Sophie said. “He can’t risk it. Anyway, the law in this town . . .”

  She made a face to show in how much disdain she held Marshal Henry Hinkle.

  “She’s right about that, Doc,” John Henry said. “The law’s not something we need to worry about. The guards hired by those mine owners, on the other hand . . . they could pose a problem. If the three of them have thrown in together, they can afford to hire plenty of guns.”

  “How do you know they’re working together?” Mitchum asked suspiciously.

  “How else are they going to come up with that much gold unless they plan to combine their shipments?”

  “That agrees with what we’ve been told,” Sophie said, ignoring Mitchum’s warning frown. “That’s why we’re not going after the gold on its way down from the mountains. The two of us can’t fight a war against a bunch of hired guards. But there’ll be some time between when the gold gets to Purgatory and Wells Fargo picks it up to take it to Lordsburg and the railroad.”

  “That’s when you’re going after it?” John Henry asked. “While it’s stashed in the bank here?”

  Sophie nodded and said, “That’s the idea.”

  “And it might work,” John Henry told her, “but there’s one big thing wrong with it.”

  “Oh?” Mitchum said with the suggestion of a sneer on his face. “What’s that?”

  “You really think Billy Ray Gilmore is going to let the gold get to town in the first place?”

  Sophie and Mitchum glanced at each other. John Henry could tell that they were concerned about the very thing he’d just suggested.

  He pounded the point home by saying, “All the planning in the world isn’t going to do you any good if Gilmore gets the gold while it’s on its way down from the mountains.”

  “So what are you suggesting?” Mitchum demanded. “That we wipe out Gilmore and his gang?” He snorted. “That’d be a pretty big job, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know,” Sophie said slowly. “Sixkiller’s already made a start on it.”

  John Henry shook his head.

  “That’s probably asking a mite too much, even for me,” he said.

  “Don’t be so modest,” Sophie told him with a sneer. “You’re obviously quit
e a gunman.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Mitchum snapped. “He can’t help us.”

  “Sure I can,” John Henry said.

  “How?”

  “By working against Gilmore from the inside.”

  It was an audacious idea that had come to John Henry while he was talking. The easiest way to find out Gilmore’s plans would be if Gilmore told him. But the only way that would happen was if he was part of Gilmore’s gang.

  “If you mean what I think you do, you’re loco,” Mitchum muttered. “You’ll just get yourself killed.” He brightened. “So go right ahead with it, I suppose. That’ll simplify matters for us.”

  “Hold on,” Sophie said. “How in the world do you think you’re going to get into Gilmore’s gang when you’ve already killed two of his men and wounded two more?”

  “Well, under the circumstances wouldn’t you say that I’m worth at least as much as those four men?” John Henry asked. “If Gilmore’s really interested in stealing that gold, he’s going to want the best men he can get for the job, right?”

  Sophie looked at him for a long moment, then said, “You may be on to something there. It would be a big risk for you, though. He might just say the hell with it and kill you, or have his men do it for him.”

  “They could try. But there’s at least a chance he’d see my point and agree to the deal. Besides, I’d approach him with the idea while we were in a public place.”

  Mitchum snorted and said, “You think that’d stop Gilmore from plugging you if he wanted to? You don’t have to be here in Purgatory very long to know that he does whatever he damned well pleases most of the time.”

  “It’s up to you. I just made the suggestion.”

  “There’s another thing to consider, Sophie,” Mitchum went on. “Maybe Sixkiller wouldn’t betray us to the law, but he might tip off Gilmore that we’re after the gold, too. That might be how he convinces Gilmore to let him join the gang.”

  “I’d have to be a pretty big fool to do that,” John Henry said. “If I work with you, I’m looking at twenty-five grand. If I were to throw in with Gilmore for real, my slice of the pie would be a lot smaller than that.”

  Sophie nodded and said, “He’s right. And I have a hunch he’s smart enough to go after the biggest possible payoff.”

  “There you go again, talking about me like I’m not here,” John Henry drawled, smiling.

  “We can talk this around and around in circles until we’re blue in the face,” Mitchum said. “We need to decide, Sophie. Is he in or out?”

  “If we say he’s out, what do we do with him?”

  Mitchum frowned and said, “I wish now I hadn’t lowered my gun.”

  “We should let the lady leave the room first if it’s going to come down to that,” John Henry suggested.

  “I’m not going anywhere, damn it!” Sophie snapped. “You men are always too blasted eager to start shooting at each other.” She nodded curtly as she reached a decision. “I say Sixkiller is in on the job with us.”

  “And I vote yes, too,” John Henry said.

  Mitchum glared at him and said, “You don’t get a vote, at least not until I say you do.” He sighed. “But I reckon that’d be the easiest thing to do. If I get even the littlest hint, though, that you’re trying to double-cross us or sell us out to Gilmore . . .”

  “The same goes for me,” John Henry promised. “We have to trust each other, and that goes both ways.”

  “That leaves us with the question of how you’re going to convince Gilmore to accept you as part of the gang,” Mitchum said.

  “I have an idea about that,” John Henry said, “but it involves the two of you.”

  “Before we get to that . . .” Sophie moved closer to him, within arm’s reach. She proved that by putting her arms around his neck and lifting her face to his for an urgent, passionate kiss. John Henry was surprised, but he didn’t pull away from the warm sweetness of her lips.

  When she stepped back after a moment, she went on, “There. That ought to seal the deal.”

  “For God’s sake, Sophie!” Mitchum burst out.

  “No need for you to get jealous, Doc. You and I are just business partners, that’s all. Besides, you’re old enough to be my father.”

  “But I’m not your father, and you don’t need to start alley-cattin’ around with our new business partner.”

  Sophie smiled at John Henry and shrugged.

  “I suppose he’s right,” she said. “Now, what were you saying about a way for you to get into Gilmore’s gang . . . ?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Despite everything that had happened, John Henry slept well his first night in Purgatory, after Sophie Clearwater and Doc Mitchum left his room. He didn’t really trust them, and he wasn’t sure that teaming up with them wouldn’t backfire on him, but there was nothing else he could do about it right this minute, so he might as well sleep. That attitude had always worked out well for him in the past and he didn’t see any reason to change it now.

  In the morning, he went to the hotel dining room for breakfast. The pretty redheaded waitress was there, and when she came to his table, John Henry smiled and asked her, “Do you do anything besides work here?”

  “Oh, I do a lot of things, Mr. Sixkiller,” she replied as she returned his smile.

  “You know who I am?”

  “I figure ’most everybody in Purgatory knows you after yesterday. It doesn’t take you long to make an impression on people.”

  John Henry chuckled and said, “Thanks . . . I think.”

  She brought him flapjacks and a plate filled with fried eggs and thick slices of ham. John Henry nearly always had a good appetite and this morning wasn’t any different. He washed the food down with several cups of strong black coffee and felt pretty good when he left the hotel.

  It wasn’t too far-fetched to think that more of Gilmore’s men might come after him in retaliation for the events of the previous day, and he agreed with Doc Mitchum that the fact of it being broad daylight in the center of town probably wouldn’t stop them if they wanted to kill him.

  But he thought it was unlikely that any of them were stirring this early. Outlaws tended to prefer late hours, whiskey, women, and cards, and Gilmore and his men were probably sleeping off binges or dozing in some whore’s crib at this hour.

  John Henry was alert anyway as he walked along the street. He never wanted to underestimate anybody who might want to put a bullet through him.

  He was strolling aimlessly when he heard someone call his name. He turned to look and saw Mayor Joe Cravens hurrying toward him.

  “Mr. Sixkiller, I thought that was you,” Cravens said. “I never got a chance to thank you properly for your help yesterday.”

  “You thanked me, Mr. Mayor,” John Henry said. “Didn’t really do it for you, though. No offense meant by that. I just don’t like to see varmints like those two getting away with what they consider fun.”

  Cravens frowned in concern.

  “I heard this morning that there was an attempt on your life last night,” he said. “That had to be related to your efforts on my behalf.”

  “The two men were friends of Rudd and Logan, all right,” John Henry admitted. “But they weren’t successful, so that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”

  Cravens didn’t answer that question. Instead, he suggested, “Why don’t you come over to the bank with me? I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  Remembering the offer that Royal Bouchard had extended to him on behalf of the town council, John Henry said, “If this is about the marshal’s job, or that other business—”

  Cravens shook his head.

  “Bouchard already told me you turned those proposals down. I was sorry to hear it. This is about something else.”

  John Henry didn’t really have anything else to do right now, so he said, “I suppose I could hear you out.”

  Cravens smiled and nodded, obviously pleased.

  John Henry
had wanted to get a good look at the setup in the bank. What better way than to have the banker himself show him around, he thought with a faint smile as he walked with Cravens toward the redbrick building.

  The tellers all said good morning to Cravens when he and John Henry came into the bank, as did several of the customers. Purgatory might be a fairly small settlement, but its bank could have been in a bigger town. There was a lot of gleaming marble and polished wood in evidence, and fancy chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

  To one side of the room was a set of thick doors that stood open at the moment. Beyond those doors, in a small, square room, stood a massive safe, painted dark green with gilt trim. It was quite impressive, John Henry thought, and appeared utterly impregnable. He wondered if all $75,000 worth of bullion would fit into it, or if some of the gold would have to be stored elsewhere. There were shelves along one side of the room containing the safe, so he supposed some of the bars could be stacked there.

  He took that in with a quick glance, not wanting it to seem like he was paying an undue amount of attention to the safe.

  Cravens led John Henry into his private office, which was comfortably furnished with a big desk and several well-padded leather chairs. He took off his hat and hung it on a hat tree, then asked if he could take John Henry’s as well.

  “I think I’ll just hang on to it if that’s all right,” John Henry said. “I’m sort of partial to my hat.”

  “That’s fine, Mr. Sixkiller.” As he waved John Henry into one of the chairs in front of the desk, the banker went on, “It’s early, I know, but I have a bottle of excellent whiskey. . . .”

  John Henry shook his head and waved off the suggestion.

  “I appreciate the offer, sir, but like you say, it’s early.” He sat down and balanced his hat on his knee. “What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  “A man who gets right down to business,” Cravens said. “I like that. How would you like to work for me, Mr. Sixkiller?”

  “I already told Bouchard—”