Despite what Doc had just said, Caleb watched Kate to see how she might react. All she did was scowl, drag her fingers through her hair, and mutter, “I’ve heard that man’s a cowardly asshole.”
Caleb laughed and shook his head. “He wasn’t there. It was that sharpshooter you found outside of Creek’s claim.”
“The one I got in the arm?”
“That’s him.”
“Where is he now?”
“Probably still lying where I left him,” Caleb replied. “And you knew he was coming?”
“I knew that skinny fellow from your trial knew where to find you,” Doc said. “Lord only knows how he caught your scent, but my guess was that he’d send word to Rudabaugh and he’d want to catch up with you personally. Apparently, those men are still determined to get that gold.”
“Gold?” Kate asked as her ears perked up. “What gold?”
“Don’t trouble yourself with it, darlin’,” Doc told her in a Southern drawl that sounded as if it had been plucked from a peach tree. “Most of it’s gone already.”
“What about the gold I gave to you the last time we parted ways?” Caleb asked.
Doc held open his arms as if to embrace the hotel room and everyone inside of it. “I parlayed it into quite a fine little streak. It’s been enough to keep this feast going for a few days.”
“All day and all night,” Kate said with a seductive smile that was aimed directly at Doc.
“Yeah, well, something must have happened to your streak for you to fake your own death just to get out of Breckenridge,” Caleb pointed out.
“I didn’t fake a thing,” Doc protested as he pulled up the front of his shirt. “See for yourself.”
Caleb leaned down to get a look at the thick scar that covered a section of Doc’s ribs like a splotch of dried paint.
“The animal shot me when I wasn’t even looking,” Doc said. Raising his glass to Kate, he added, “There’s your cowardly asshole, my dear.”
She reached out to run her fingers gently along the scar, while staring up into Doc’s eyes and curling her lips into that seductive smile.
After pulling his eyes away from her, Doc looked at Caleb and said, “Someone got the wrong story and that’s what was published in the paper. Not that I didn’t think I was dead at the time, mind you. Especially with that skinny fellow standing over me while I couldn’t defend myself.”
“Samuel was there?” Caleb asked.
“In the flesh. I believe he may have put Henry Kahn up to the task. Even if he didn’t, he swooped in like a vulture as soon as I was down.”
“That scar looks pretty bad. How close was he when he shot you?” Caleb asked.
“He didn’t have the sand to shoot me himself. If he did, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
“How’d you make it out of Breckenridge?”
Doc smirked, but wasn’t able to hide the shadow that crept over him as he recalled those painful days. “The coward who hired Henry Kahn kept asking about the gold and swore that you and I still had it all. The yellow bastard even stole the baggage sitting beside me where I lay. Once he had it, he ran away. When I woke up, I was laying on a cot in some doctor’s office.
“Somehow or another, that doctor figured out who I was,” Doc continued. “I remember talking to him, but I don’t recall what I said. Apparently, I said enough to get word to my cousin George, because he came to get me out of Breckenridge. Honestly, it’s still a bit hazy, but it was good to see George again.”
Caleb looked at Doc while shaking his head. “Are you kidding me?”
“Not at all. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen George, so of course it was good to catch up.”
“Not just about that. I mean . . .” Caleb trailed off simply because he didn’t know which question to ask next. “Your cousin got you up and walking after you were shot?”
Doc chuckled under his breath and nodded. “Not to take anything away from George, but my wound looked a lot worse than it was. Once the blood was cleared away, all I needed was a mess of stitches and some time off my feet. He insisted I go back to Georgia where it was safe, but I declined. There’s some unfinished business to be wrapped up between myself and Mr. Samuel Fletcher.”
“You said he didn’t get any gold from you,” Caleb pointed out.
“That’s right,” Doc replied. “He took my luggage, which consisted of a few spare suits and some new handkerchiefs. As if he couldn’t tell from lifting it that there wasn’t a fortune of gold inside. What an idiot.”
“Yeah, well, that idiot tracked me down all the way to Louisiana,” Caleb reminded him. “The least you could have done was warn me.”
“I thought you’d be in Texas,” Doc said in his own defense. “It took a while for me to find someone in Dallas who knew where you’d wound up. And I did all of that while I was recovering. Although,” he added, “it could have been harder. I didn’t exactly have to worry about folks waiting for my queries. Being dead has its advantages.”
“Well, you don’t play the part very well.”
Doc smirked and shrugged. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. If you could have seen the look on your face when you first stepped into this room, you would have agreed that this little deception was worth it.”
Caleb let out another sigh and dropped himself onto one of the room’s chairs. “Now that I’m here, I suppose things will pick up right where we left off.”
“Not quite,” Doc said. “I did have ulterior motives for asking you to haul yourself all the way out here.”
“I came for a funeral,” Caleb reminded him.
“And you would have ignored the notice if you thought so little of me.” Ignoring the roll of Caleb’s eyes, Doc continued. “My hope was that seeing I’d been shot would put you on your toes,” Doc explained. “And if anyone else got ahold of that bundle before it was delivered, there wasn’t anything valuable enough for them to keep it out of your possession.”
Waving his hands, Caleb said, “All right, all right. You got me here. Now what? I know you’ve probably been spending a good amount of time in this room, but that Tin Hat Brigade is all over this town. We may not even be able to run our business as usual.”
“Nothing’s so troublesome as a bunch of vigilantes who are actually good at their job,” Doc said.
“Good at standing around and waving their guns,” Kate said. “Some of them even beat up women. Not me, though,” she quickly added. “They don’t have the balls for that.”
Caleb laughed as he sipped his whiskey. “I can see why you like her, Doc.”
She smirked and held Caleb’s gaze for long enough that it seemed she wasn’t too worried about Doc catching her in the act.
“Actually,” Doc said as he leaned forward and lowered his voice, “those vigilantes are why I wanted you here and why I didn’t want anyone to see you and I talking for very long. I apologize if I dragged you away from any important business you had, but I simply couldn’t afford to trust anyone else with this. Those Tin Hats have spent too much time in these parts over the last year or so.”
“All right,” Caleb said. “Now I’m really interested.”
“I thought you might be. Just know that these men are serious and if we step too far out of line, you may just get that funeral you were after.”
“You may just get three of them, including your own,” Kate added.
Caleb nodded and set down his drink. “That’s never stopped us before. Let’s hear it.”
22
The next day started in much the same way as most others in Fort Griffin. The business owners rose with the sun and got their affairs in order so they could work through another stretch of sunlight. Some saloon owners unlocked their doors a bit later, while others spelled the men who’d been keeping an eye on things throughout the less respectable hours of the previous night.
Doc stepped out of the Planter’s Hotel and pulled in as deep a breath as he could manage. It was a good day, since he let
out his breath with only a slight wheeze and no hacking cough. Checking to make sure everything was in its proper place, Doc straightened his suit coat and adjusted his diamond stickpin so that it was properly centered. Once that was done, he started walking.
The boardwalk was crowded as always and folks moved past him in either direction. He heard the tap of footsteps behind him, but there was no reason for Doc to become suspicious. That changed real quickly when he felt the touch of iron against the small of his back.
“Good morning,” a man hissed from behind Doc.
Doc’s hand started toward the holster under his arm, but didn’t make it halfway before the iron in his back dug in even deeper.
“I’d rather not make a scene in the street, but I will pull my trigger if you’d like to play it that way,” the man said.
Nodding, Doc asked, “Finally doing your own dirty work, Samuel? I’m impressed.”
“And I’m impressed you’re still breathing,” Samuel replied.
“Miracles never cease.”
“Yes, well, I doubt I’ll miss from here, so I don’t think you have another miracle in store. Keep walking.”
“What do you want?” Doc asked.
“I want to have a word with you and I’d like some breakfast.”
“There’s a stable not far from here. Why don’t you eat—”
“Move,” Samuel growled as he cut Doc short with a jab from the gun in his hand. Stepping around to Doc’s left, Samuel dug the barrel of his gun into Doc’s ribs.
Doc looked down and saw that Samuel had his hand in the pocket of his jacket. That hand emerged through a tear in the jacket’s lining, allowing Samuel to keep hold of a .32 pistol without showing it to the rest of the world. When he looked up again, Doc’s eyes were narrowed into angry slits and his voice was a dry rasp.
“You’re a cowardly little prick, Samuel,” Doc snarled. “After what you did the last time I saw you, I should kill you right here and now.”
“You think you can draw and fire before I pull my trigger?” Samuel asked.
“Maybe I don’t give a damn if I beat you or not. I’m already dead, so a few days in either direction really don’t mean much as long as I take you to hell with me.”
Samuel lost enough color in his face to make him almost as pale as Doc. He tried to hold Doc’s stare, but couldn’t. When he jabbed the gun into Doc’s ribs, he got no response. When he looked around at the other folks walking by, he only got a few confused glances in return.
“I’ve already spoken to a few members of the Tin Hat Brigade,” Samuel said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of them.”
“I have.”
Since that didn’t make a dent in the Georgian, Samuel seemed to be out of words. Fortunately for him, Doc had enough words for the both of them.
“I’d still like to kill you,” Doc said, “but you caught me at a good time. I’m hungry. You mentioned breakfast?”
“Get moving before I put you down like a dog, Holliday.”
Doc chuckled and started walking. Samuel fell into step beside him.
As the street became busier and additional places opened their doors, more of the ever-present gunmen found their spots along the boardwalk and planted themselves there like posts. One of these men was a tall, lean figure with a bit of black mixed throughout his white hair and whiskers. Despite the fact that he kept his long mustache trimmed and his hair clipped above his ears, he maintained a somewhat wild appearance.
That wildness came from his eyes. When the man let his gaze wander along the street, he looked as if he was taking measurements for one coffin after another. He wore an older-model .45 on his hip in a holster that appeared to be older than the men on either side of him. Nicholas Graymon didn’t have to declare himself leader of the Tin Hat Brigade. That title simply fit him better than any of the younger men who patrolled the streets of Fort Griffin alongside him.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing, Frank?” Graymon asked the man to his right.
Frank was easily a decade Graymon’s junior, but he rarely deferred to the older man. Whether or not that was because of youthful confidence or ignorance had yet to be decided. Either way, it had earned him fairly good standing among the vigilantes and locked him into the Tin Hat Brigade’s second in command.
“You mean those two men walking across the street?” Frank asked.
“That’d be the ones.”
Squinting at the two in question, Frank lowered his voice and said, “One of ’em’s Doc Holliday. I don’t know who the hell that other one is.”
“I do,” said the man to Graymon’s left. Paul Wilcox looked a bit closer to Graymon’s age and had dark skin that was marred by several scars along the line of his jaw. “He came into town yesterday and was looking for Holliday. I had a chat with him.”
“Do you know who he is, though?” Graymon asked.
Paul studied the pair across the street and then shook his head. “Not for certain.”
“If he’s associating with the likes of Holliday, he’s worth watching,” Frank said. “I heard Holliday killed a man in Denver.”
“I heard it was several men,” Paul added. “As well as a few up in the Dakotas.”
“I don’t care about what was heard,” Graymon said through gritted teeth. “If I did, I would’ve run Holliday out of town a while ago. He’s been keeping his head down and his nose clean while he’s been here, so I don’t have a problem with him. Holliday seems like a smart man, though. He knows we’re here and he may just be waiting for someone to back his play before he does anything.”
“He’s just a gambler, though, ain’t he?” Frank asked.
Paul let out a humorless grunt of a laugh. “I wouldn’t trust any gambler farther than I could throw him.”
Graymon laughed as well. On him, however, the expression was more of a subtle shift in his lip as he nodded his head. “And all gamblers got something up their sleeves. Otherwise, they’d have an honest job and associate with honest folks.”
“That whore that Holliday’s been keeping company with didn’t appreciate us rousting her or her friends one bit,” Frank said as he kept his eyes on the two men walking toward John Shannsey’s Cattle Exchange Saloon. “She could be whispering in Holliday’s ear to try and get him to take a shot at one of us.”
“She sure as hell doesn’t like you boys,” someone added from a few steps to the side of the three vigilantes.
All three vigilantes turned to face the man who’d just spoken. Frank and Paul were the only ones who had their guns drawn, but Graymon looked deadlier than both of them combined. Keeping his hand upon his holstered .45, Graymon scowled at the new arrival the way a wild dog scowled at someone who’d just stolen the bone from its mouth.
“You must be new in town, mister,” Graymon said. “Otherwise you’d know better than to stick your nose in where it don’t belong.”
Holding his hands up, the man said, “I am new in town. Just arrived actually.”
“I know,” Frank said. “I saw you the moment you got here.”
“You’re very observant. I’m fairly observant myself. That’s how I learned so quickly that you men are the ones to talk to regarding certain undesirable elements that might be among us.”
“You just got here and you’re already scouting out undesirables?” Graymon asked. “Why don’t you go see the marshal?”
“Because the marshal doesn’t act as quickly as you do. Besides that, I know of some dangerous men who’ll be looking to get to you long before they try to get to the marshal.”
“You mean like that whore we were talking about?” Frank asked. “We already know she carries at least one gun under them skirts of hers.”
“If you boys could be threatened by a whore, you wouldn’t be of much concern to anyone, now would you?”
Feeling the crackle of tension running throughout his two men, Graymon stepped forward before Frank or Paul could make another move. “Say what you want to say and be quick about it.”
The man nodded and made sure the other three could see that he was glancing across the street at the two men who’d previously been in the vigilantes’ sights. “Holliday can be a problem, but it’s that other one you’ll need to watch. He’ll already know all about you and he’ll most likely make a move straight for you.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Because I’ve been keeping an eye on him for a while now.”
Graymon turned toward the street, but the two he’d been watching were already out of sight. “Paul, I want you to head on into Shanny’s. Check up on Doc as well as that other one and let me know what they’re doing.”
Paul walked away without another word. As he made his way down the street toward the saloon, the locals reflexively cleared a path for him.
Frank eyed the other man suspiciously as Graymon turned back around.
Eventually, Graymon signaled for his partner to lower his gun. “So you know who we are,” he said. “Why should we listen to you?”
“Because I can deliver someone to you that’ll go a long way in putting you in the good graces of the law around here.”
“Who’s to say we’re not already on good terms with the law? If we wasn’t, we’d be in jail.”
“Being tolerated and being respected are two different things.”
Graymon nodded slowly. “You got a point there.”
“And not only will catching the man I’m talking about earn you some respect, it could even earn you some good money.”
“And who might that be?” Graymon asked with a dwindling amount of patience.
Caleb allowed himself to grin, knowing that he’d gotten a real good bite on the line he’d cast. “Ever hear of Arkansas Dave Rudabaugh?” he asked.
“Yeah. He’s a thief, a killer, and he’s got a hell of a price on his head.”
“I know a few things about Rudabaugh that may just get him captured,” Caleb said with a confident smirk. “I’ll be in touch with you or your men once I’m sure I can deal with you.”
The Accomplice: The Silent Partner Page 21
