Day of Rage

by William W. Johnstone

  John Henry hadn’t figured out exactly how he was going to stop them yet, but he had some ideas. For one thing he could tip off the guards to be expecting the attack. Without the element of surprise on the outlaws’ side, the assault could backfire on Gilmore.

  John Henry also didn’t know what Sophie Clearwater and Doc Mitchum were planning to do, but he wasn’t worried that much about them. They were wild cards, true, but he didn’t see how they could possibly steal the gold by themselves.

  Della dozed most of the afternoon. At suppertime, John Henry got another big meal on a tray from the dining room downstairs, supposedly just for himself. They shared the food and the pot of coffee he brought up.

  After supper, he changed the dressing on Della’s wound. The gash in her side still looked ugly and painful, but the blood had scabbed over and the wound was starting to close. Most importantly, John Henry didn’t see any signs that it was starting to fester.

  “You take good care of me,” she told him with a smile. “You should have been a doctor instead of a . . . a whatever it is you are. You just don’t seem like an outlaw.”

  “That’s not my chosen profession,” he said. “Sometimes life nudges you into odd corners, though.”

  “I suppose so—”

  She stopped as a knock sounded on the door. John Henry turned to look at it, then glanced back at Della as she mouthed the name Royal?

  He shook his head and shrugged, put his hand on the butt of his gun as he stood up. He crossed to the door and called softly, “Who is it?”

  “Your old pard Billy Ray Gilmore,” came the reply. “We need to talk, Sixkiller.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  John Henry looked over his shoulder at Della. She had heard Gilmore’s voice, and her eyes had gone wide with fear. There was no closet or wardrobe in the hotel room, no good place for her to hide.

  The only thing she could do was slide off the far side of the bed and stay as low to the floor as possible. That ought to keep Gilmore from seeing her as long as the outlaw didn’t actually come into the room.

  With a quick motion of his hand, John Henry indicated what he wanted Della to do. She nodded in understanding and climbed silently and carefully out of bed, grimacing as she did so. The unexpected activity probably made the wound in her side hurt. The covers on the bed were messed up, but that just looked like they hadn’t been straightened since John Henry got up that morning. Gilmore wouldn’t be able to tell from the doorway that he’d slept in the chair the night before.

  “Sixkiller?” the boss outlaw’s voice came again.

  “Hang on,” John Henry said. He twisted the key in the lock and opened the door about six inches. As he looked out into the corridor, he asked, “What do you want?”

  Gilmore grinned at him.

  “Is that any way to say howdy to your partner? We are still workin’ together, aren’t we?”

  “Sure we are,” John Henry said. “I’m not about to back out of our deal now. How about you?”

  “No, sir. That’s why I’m here.” Gilmore’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the way John Henry was standing, blocking most of the view of the room. “Am I interruptin’ something? You got company in there, Sixkiller? Mind you, it’s all right with me if you do, as long as it ain’t anybody you’re plannin’ on double-crossin’ me with.”

  John Henry grunted, moved back a step, and swung the door open so that Gilmore could see the bed.

  “Does it look like I have company?” he asked.

  “No, I reckon not. How about lettin’ me in so we can talk about what’s gonna happen tomorrow?”

  “How about we go somewhere and have a drink while we’re talking instead?”

  Gilmore shook his head.

  “You don’t want to be seen drinkin’ with me. That’d be too likely to get folks suspicious of us. But if it’s booze you want, I can go get a bottle and come back. I used the back stairs, so it ain’t likely anybody’s gonna see me.”

  “No, that’s all right,” John Henry said, realizing that he wasn’t going to get rid of Gilmore easily. It might be best to keep this conversation as short as possible. Hoping that Della would understand what she needed to do, he continued, “Come on in, I guess.”

  He moved back, stepping all the way over beside the bed. As he glanced down, he saw the covers swaying slightly where they were draped over the side of the mattress. Della had crawled underneath the bed in time. It must have been painful for her and might have even broken the wound open and started it bleeding again, but that was better than letting Gilmore see her and realize she was still alive.

  John Henry nodded toward the door and said, “Shut that, would you?”

  He glanced around the room, searching for any signs that Della was here. The dishes and coffee cups from supper were already gone, so Gilmore wouldn’t be able to tell that John Henry had eaten with someone in here. He had snuck some clean sheets from the hotel’s linen closet earlier in the day, so the torn, bloody ones were no longer in evidence. Bouchard had taken Della’s dress away with him earlier to dispose of it, along with the sheets. As far as John Henry could see, everything was clear.

  Gilmore closed the door and turned to face John Henry.

  “Maybe I should have gone to get that bottle after all,” he said. “Then we could drink to our mutual success tomorrow.”

  “We’ll drink to it afterward,” John Henry suggested. “We’ll be rich enough we can afford the finest champagne there is.”

  “That’s true. We’d better go over the plan.” Gilmore’s voice hardened slightly. “Start by tellin’ me what you know about what’s gonna happen tomorrow.”

  John Henry’s voice also held an edge as he said, “I could ask you to do the same thing.”

  “Oh, I’ll share what I know, don’t worry.”

  John Henry shrugged and said, “Fine. The gold’s coming down from the mines in three loads, one from each mine. I don’t know the order, but the first load of bullion is supposed to arrive at the bank at mid-morning, accompanied by armed guards. They’ll unload it from the wagons into the bank’s safe, then go back up to the next mine and load up again. Cravens wants me inside the bank when the first load gets there, and I’ll stay inside from then until the Wells Fargo agents load it up the next morning to take it to Lordsburg.”

  “That agrees with what I’ve been told,” Gilmore said with a nod.

  “Told by who?”

  Gilmore just smiled and shook his head without saying anything.

  John Henry narrowed his eyes and said, “I’m not the only inside man you’ve got working with you, am I? You’ve paid off one of the guards, too.”

  “I didn’t say that. But I do have my sources of information,” Gilmore acknowledged. “And they tell me that if everything goes as planned, the third and final load of bullion will arrive in Purgatory late tomorrow afternoon. As soon as the wagons pull up in front of the bank with the third load, that’s when we’re gonna make our move. Some of the guards will be inside. It’ll be your job to take care of them while we’re dealing with the men outside. They won’t be expectin’ trouble from you, so you shouldn’t have much trouble with ’em.”

  “That almost amounts to cold-blooded murder.”

  Gilmore put on a show of pretending to think about it and then nodded.

  “I suppose you could call it that. I like to think of it as a necessary chore that’ll pay off in $75,000 worth of bullion.”

  “That’s a better way to think of it, all right,” John Henry said. “How are you going to haul all of it away?”

  “The last load will already be on the wagons. I’ve got four more wagons lined up, good teams of horses, and good men to handle them.”

  “Are you taking the gold back up into the mountains to hide out?”

  Gilmore shook his head.

  “We’d have to move too slow on those steep roads. A posse might be able to catch us, that is, if Marshal Hinkle could stop tremblin’ in his boots long enough to
get a posse together. No, we’ll be lightin’ a shuck for a flag stop west of Lordsburg. It’s all set up with a fella who works for the railroad. There’ll be a westbound train that stops early the next morning. We load the gold onto it, get on board ourselves, and ride in style all the way to California. Some fellas there are gonna take the gold off our hands for a good price, and from there it’ll be simple to get across the border into Mexico. We’ll have enough money to live like kings there for the rest of our lives.”

  “You’ve thought it all out,” John Henry said with what appeared to be an admiring nod. “I’ll be coming with you to California?”

  “Unless you’d rather go somewhere else and have me send your share to you later.”

  John Henry chuckled and shook his head.

  “No offense, Billy Ray, but I like the idea of not letting you out of my sight until I’ve got my share.”

  “I’d feel the same way, if I was you,” Gilmore said. “You got any questions?”

  John Henry shook his head.

  “I think you covered it all pretty well. The plan sounds like it should work . . . unless those guards put up too much of a fight for your gang.”

  “My boys can handle them,” Gilmore said confidently.

  “You’re down a few men, remember?”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  “In my defense, when I shot those hombres I didn’t know you and I were going to wind up working together,” John Henry said.

  “I know that. That’s the only reason you’re still alive.” Gilmore paused. “That and the fact that it’s gonna come in mighty handy havin’ you inside that bank tomorrow afternoon.”

  John Henry hoped Della was doing all right under the bed. So far she hadn’t made a sound. He had kept Gilmore talking and spouted quite a few words himself to cover up any tiny noises she might make. Now that he knew the details of the plan, it was time to get Gilmore out of here.

  “Sounds like everything’s squared away and ready to go,” he said. “Anything else we need to talk about?”

  “No, I think we’re done.” Gilmore extended his hand. “Partner.”

  John Henry gripped the outlaw’s hand without hesitation and said, “Partner.” He didn’t like giving his word when he had no intention of keeping it, but he figured that was a necessary evil in this case.

  “We’ll have that drink in California,” Gilmore went on. “A couple of rich swells, sippin’ fancy booze.”

  “Sounds good to me,” John Henry agreed. He wondered if Gilmore was lingering because he was suspicious, or if the man was just talkative.

  “Ah, well,” Gilmore said. “We’d better both get some rest. We’re gonna need to be fresh tomorrow.”

  It was an effort, but John Henry managed to stay nonchalant and unhurried as he showed Gilmore out of the room. Gilmore checked the hall first, so that no one would see him leaving John Henry’s room, then slipped out. John Henry eased the door closed behind the boss outlaw.

  He didn’t say anything. He went over to the bed, hunkered on his heels, and lifted the dangling covers. He leaned over to look and saw Della peering out at him, her eyes wide.

  He put a finger to his lips indicating that she should be quiet, then reached under the bed so she could take his hand and let him help her out of her hiding place. When he had her clear, he put his arms around her and lifted her. She gasped softly against his ear, so he knew the movement hurt her.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. He lowered her to the mattress as gently as he could.

  Her robe was covered with dust from under the bed. She looked down at it in dismay.

  John Henry was more worried about the wound in her side. He motioned for her to stay where she was and went to the door. His concern was that Gilmore might be lurking out there in the corridor with his ear to the door, listening to see if anyone else really was in here, as he had suspected at first.

  With his hand on his gun, John Henry opened the door a couple of inches and looked out. Not seeing anything, he opened it wider and stuck his head out. The corridor was empty. He closed the door and locked it.

  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly as he returned to Della’s side. “I need to check that wound.”

  “It hurt some, but I don’t think it started bleeding again,” she said.

  “I want to take a look for myself.”

  “The worst part was the dust. I thought I was going to sneeze several times, and I really had to fight to keep it in.”

  “I’m glad you did,” John Henry told her with a smile. “That would have been sort of awkward. I don’t think Gilmore would have said God bless you.”

  “More than likely he would have said go to hell and tried to send us both there.”

  “More than likely,” John Henry agreed.

  It took a few minutes to check the dressing on Della’s wound. A little fresh blood had seeped from it, but not enough to worry about, John Henry decided. In order for him to do that, she had to take off her robe, so he shook it out to remove the dust while she had it off.

  Dressed only in a thin shift, she watched him and said, “I heard everything that Gilmore was saying, John Henry. You really are an outlaw, aren’t you? You’re working with him to steal all that gold.”

  “Things aren’t always what they seem to be.”

  “Maybe not, but this is pretty damned obvious. You even called each other partner. I’ll bet you were even shaking hands at the time.”

  John Henry shrugged.

  Della looked up at him and shook her head. She said, “I just never really had you pegged as that sort. Lord knows, that much gold is tempting. Like I said, I’d be tempted to go after it myself if I was a man.”

  “Maybe I could take you to California with me,” John Henry suggested. “Or you could meet me there later.”

  She looked at him for a moment, then shook her head.

  “No?” he asked.

  “No,” she answered. Her voice was firm and decisive. “I said I’d be tempted, not that I’d do it. I’m a whore, not a thief. I know some soiled doves rob their customers, but I’m not one of them. I never have been. A man like you might not be able to understand this, John Henry, but—and Lord knows I never thought I’d be saying this—I’m an honest woman. You do what you have to, but I don’t want any part of that blasted gold robbery.”

  John Henry reached a decision and said, “I’m glad to hear you say that, Della . . . because I’m really a deputy United States marshal.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  She gaped up at him for a couple of seconds, then said, “You’re really a crooked lawman?”

  “I don’t know about the crooked part,” John Henry said with a smile, “but I’m definitely a lawman. I can show you my badge and bona fides if you want.”

  She shook her head to indicate that wasn’t necessary.

  “But you’re going to help Gilmore and his gang steal that gold!”

  John Henry shook his head.

  “No, Gilmore just thinks I’m going to.”

  The light of understanding dawned in Della’s eyes. She said, “You’re working undercover.” She giggled suddenly, unable to hold in the reaction. “That’s something you and I have in common, I guess.”

  “You need to stop thinking all the time about what you’ve been doing for a living. There’s a lot more to you than that.”

  She shrugged and said, “I don’t know about that, but right now I don’t care. You were sent here to get Gilmore?”

  “I was sent here to protect the gold. Gilmore’s just the main threat to it.”

  But not the only one, he thought, remembering Sophie Clearwater and Doc Mitchum. He wondered what they were up to tonight.

  “Making Gilmore think that I wanted to work with him seemed like the best way to find out what his plan was,” John Henry went on. “You heard for yourself how well that worked.”

  “He told you everything, all right. But what if he was lying? He might not trust you enough to tell
you the truth.”

  “Some things you just have to take on faith,” John Henry said. “Besides, I’m convinced he believes what I’ve told him. Things will go easier for him if he’s got a man inside the bank, and I’m that man.”

  “But he’s planning to double-cross you and kill you as soon as he’s got the gold.”

  “I’d expect as much from a skunk like him, even if I really was as crooked as you thought I was.”

  “You convinced me, all right,” Della said. “Does anybody else know about this? Have you told the marshal?”

  “You’re the only one. Once I saw what sort of hombre Marshal Hinkle is, I figured I couldn’t count on any help from him.”

  “That’s the truth,” she said emphatically. “He’s useless. He’s worse than useless.”

  “What about Sheriff Stone? He’s here in town right now, too, according to Bouchard.”

  Della shook her head and said, “I don’t really know much about him, but from everything I’ve heard he’s more of a politician than a real lawman. He might risk his hide to help you because those mine owners are so wealthy and influential, but again, you can’t count on that.”

  “So I’m going to have to handle Gilmore and his gang by myself,” John Henry mused. “Well, with some help from the guards hired by True, Goodman, and Lacey, of course.”

  “You should tell Royal about this,” Della suggested. “He’ll back your play. He’s a good man . . . for a saloon-keeping, whoremongering gambler,” she added with a smile.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, but for right now I’m going to keep on playing a lone hand.”

  “That’s a good way to lose. And you’ve got a pretty big wager on the table.”

  John Henry nodded and said, “I know. Seventy-five thousand dollars in gold bullion.”

  “I was talking about your life,” Della said.

  * * *

  She tried to convince him to share the bed with her—just for sleeping, she insisted, nothing else—but John Henry spent the night in the chair again.