“No,” Roper said.
“What? But…I have to.”
“No, you don’t,” Roper said.
“He’ll kill me—”
“If you try to get on that horse, I’ll kill you,” Roper said.
“But if I don’t tell him,” Harwick said, “he’ll just ride in and kill us all.”
“He’ll try,” Dexter said.
“I can’t—I’m not good in a fight.”
“Just go over there and sit down,” Roper said. “Over there against the wall. And don’t move.”
“But—”
“Do it!”
Harwick walked up to the house and sat down on the porch with his back against the wall.
“So what do we do now, boss?” Bando asked.
“I’ll do what Kilkenny did,” Roper said. “I’ll ride up to him and tell him Westover’s dead and there’s nobody to pay him.”
“That’ll make him mad,” Hampstead said, “won’t it?”
Roper, Dexter, and Bando didn’t pay any attention to him.
“You can see how many men he’s got, too,” Bando said.
“However many men he lets me see,” Roper said, “he’ll have double.”
“That’s the formula,” Dexter said.
“All right,” Roper said. “That’s what I’ll do. The rest of you wait here, watch for any surprises. Dex, you better go in the back and tell Prince and Templeton to stay alert.”
“Okay, boss. You be careful.”
“Kilkenny’s a pro,” Roper said. “He’ll give me the same courtesy I gave him.”
“I hope you’re right,” Bando said.
Roper walked to his palomino and mounted up.
“Boss.”
Kilkenny didn’t look at Fergus, the man who had spoken, but he said, “I see him.”
“When he gets here,” Fergus said, “we can kill him. That’ll leave them without a leader.”
“If you touch your gun while he’s here, I’ll kill you myself, Fergus. Understand?”
“No.”
“That’s okay,” Kilkenny said. “Just so long as you hear me.”
“I hear you.”
“Good. Pass the word. Nobody touches their gun while he’s here.”
“Okay, boss.”
Kilkenny watched Roper approach and waited.
“He’s what?” Kilkenny asked.
“Dead,” Roper said. “Westover died.”
“Well, shit. Why didn’t that lawyer come back and tell me that?”
“I told him to stay at the house. I figured I’d tell you myself.”
While Kilkenny digested the information, Roper looked at his men. There were six of them. That meant there were at least six he couldn’t see, maybe more. Kilkenny had said he had more than a dozen, but there was no telling how many more. Roper was going to have to figure a dozen as a minimum.
“So what do you think we do now, Roper?” Kilkenny asked.
“Well, I’ve got an idea,” Roper said. “But I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”
“Try me.”
Roper looked at him and said, “Why don’t we all go home?”
63
Roper rode back to the house and dismounted.
“What’d he say?” Bando asked.
“He’s coming in,” Roper said.
“Jesus,” Harwick said, burying his head in his hands.
“Hey, lawyer,” Roper said, “you might as well go inside.”
He didn’t have to be told twice. He got to his feet and ran inside.
“Let’s spread out,” Roper said.
“Boss, there should be more than two of us in the back,” Dexter said.
“I agree, Dex, but why don’t you get up on the roof somehow. Maybe you can move freely up there.”
“Right.”
Dex went inside.
“All right, the rest of us better spread out, make every shot count. If we fire accurately, we can turn a superior group.”
“How do we play this, boss?” Fergus asked.
“We kill everybody there but the lady who’s payin’ the bills,” Kilkenny said. “Got it?”
“Got it, boss.”
“Let the men know.”
“Yep.” He started away.
“And Fergus?”
He stopped. “Yeah?”
“You’re leadin’ the men in.”
“Yes, sir!”
Fergus hurried off to relay the orders to the men.
Kilkenny was going to go in last, to mop up. He doubted his men would be able to get Roper. That would be his job.
He settled back to watch.
“Why is he still comin’ in?” Bando asked Roper. “Didn’t you tell him the man payin’ the bills is dead?”
“I told him.”
“And?”
“It didn’t seem to bother him.”
“Why the hell not?”
Roper looked at him. “My guess is it wasn’t Mr. Westover who was paying him.”
Bando looked surprised. “Mrs. Westover hired him?”
“Apparently.”
“And now she wants us all dead.”
“Yep.”
Bando shook his head. “Mean lady.”
“Here they come!” Wilkins said.
Roper saw them, riding abreast with their guns drawn.
“They’re making a mistake already,” he said.
“Handguns,” Bando said.
“Right.”
“What?” Hampstead asked.
“They need to get close.”
Bando tossed Roper a rifle, brandished his own. Hampstead and Wilkins were already holding theirs.
“There’s only four of us,” Hampstead said.
“Seven coming at us,” Roper said, “probably more in the back.”
“There’s only three of us back there,” Hampstead pointed out.
“That’s why we have to start firing first,” Roper said.
“First?” Hampstead said.
“Now!”
They opened fire.
Kilkenny watched and shook his head. To think that he should have had to tell his men to use their rifles made him sad. He’d had to hire too many locals, and they were idiots. He hoped that Striker would know better when he and his men came in from the back.
In addition, the old soldiers were firing their weapons with entirely too much accuracy. He had been led to believe that they had hardly touched guns since the war.
As he watched his men fly from their saddles as if plucked by an invisible hand, he decided he was going to have to settle for the first half of his payment. It was his own damn fault. He’d known about Roper from the beginning. He should have made sure he had more reliable men. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again.
He was going to have to run away to face Roper another day. But not until he checked on Striker’s progress.
Roper and the men on the porch were able to fire many times before any of Kilkenny’s men got close enough for their pistols to pose a danger. By the time a few bullets struck the house and broke some windows, most of the men were on the ground. In the end there were only two left, and they turned their horses and rode off as a hail of bullets continued to come from the porch.
“Sally!” Roper shouted. “Take Wilkins and get to the back of the house!”
“Right, boss.”
Roper remained on the porch with Hampstead, just in case another wave of men came, but that didn’t happen. He heard gunfire from the back and hoped they were having as much success there as he’d had in front.
And then it was quiet.
64
Kilkenny circled around to the back. Striker and his men had apparently been smart enough to use their rifles, but they were still riding in on men who were firing from cover and, once again, with way too much accuracy.
This job was a mess. Kilkenny had learned a valuable lesson here. Too much money can make you ask not enough questions.
Striker came ridin
g up to him while the battle was winding down.
“Boss, this ain’t right. I thought we were facing men who—”
“I know,” Kilkenny said, cutting him off. “We didn’t get all the information we needed, Striker.”
“So what do we do, boss?”
“This job is over,” Kilkenny said.
“What about Roper?”
“He’s a worthy opponent,” Kilkenny said. “There’ll be another day.”
And with that, the two gunmen turned their horses and rode away as, behind them, the sound of shooting ceased…
Bando came back to the front of the house and said to Roper, “All over, boss. Looks like Kilkenny’s gone.”
“That was too easy,” Roper said.
“Well, Prince took a bullet in the shoulder,” Bando pointed out, “and Templeton got nicked on the arm.”
“Anybody else hurt?”
“No.”
Slowly, the other men came back around to the front of the house. Wilkins was letting Prince lean on him, and he set the Secret Service man down on the porch steps. Roper took a look at the wound.
“You’ll be okay.”
“Yes, sir,” Prince said, wincing. “It’s not too bad.”
“I’m going to go inside and talk to Mrs. Westover,” Roper said. “Keep an eye out, in case Kilkenny decides to get sneaky, but I really think he decided to cut his losses. His men weren’t very smart to come riding in with their pistols in their hands instead of rifles.”
“Can’t get good help these days,” Sally Bando said.
“Tell me about it,” Roper said and went inside.
In the living room Victoria was still sitting on the floor next to her husband’s body. The lawyer, Harwick, was standing off to the side with a large glass of brandy.
“It’s over,” Roper said. “Your killer gave up.”
She turned her tear-streaked face up to him.
“If you think it’s over, you’re a fool.”
“I am a fool,” Roper said. “I was a fool to ever take this on, considering how many lies I was told. And I don’t appreciate being set up to take the rap for what was supposed to be five murders.”
Victoria looked at him and said, “I’ll die before I tell you anything.”
“Harwick,” Roper said. “You want to talk? Fill in the gaps for me?”
“Believe me, Mr. Roper,” Harwick said, “there are just as many gaps for me as well. I was just doing what I was told.”
The man was leaving out the fact that he was in love with his client’s wife. He’d no doubt been hoping the husband would finally die, perhaps unaware that the man hadn’t been quite as close to death’s door as his wife had been letting everyone believe. However, it seemed as if the final effort it took him to get out of bed and come downstairs had done him in.
A goddamned mess that couldn’t get any worse, Roper thought, only to be surprised again in the next few minutes.
65
Roper heard some activity behind him, turned to see Bando and Dexter walking into the room. They had no guns, and their hands were up.
“What the—” he said.
“Sorry, boss,” Bando said. “They got the drop on us.”
“Who?” Roper asked.
Entering the room behind them were Wilkins, Hampstead, and Templeton, who didn’t seem much bothered by that nick in his left arm. All three of them were pointing their guns at Bando and Dexter.
“Now what the hell is going on?” Roper demanded. “Where’s Prince?”
“Unconscious on the porch,” Bando said.
“Sorry about this, Roper,” Wilkins said. “You saved my life, but there’s too much history here.”
“What history?” Roper asked. “Do I get to hear what you all did at the end of the war that led to this?”
“Afraid not,” Templeton said. He looked at Victoria. “Mrs. Westover, you know what we want. You know what your husband owed us.”
“He didn’t owe you anything!” she spat back. “If it wasn’t for him, none of you would have had a thing. How did you repay him? You tried to kill him. I’ll tell you nothing.”
“And we did kill him,” Hampstead pointed out, “if he finally died from that wound Quinn gave him.”
“Okay, I think I’m getting it,” Roper said. “You guys pulled a job at the end of the war, didn’t you? Stole…what? Silver? Gold? Union or Confederate? Not that it matters.”
“It’s time for you to shut up, Roper,” Dave Hampstead said.
“Bold talk for a businessman,” Roper said. “And you handled your rifle pretty well out there, Hampstead. Guess you’re not the tenderfoot you want people to believe you turned into.”
“Time to get rid of your gun, Roper,” Templeton said.
“You three are worried about one man with a gun?”
“Don’t make me kill you,” Templeton said.
“Why not? You’re going to kill us anyway, aren’t you?” Roper asked. “And then search the house for what you want?”
“They c-can’t do that!” Harwick blubbered.
“Shut up!” Hampstead snapped. “Drop your gun.”
Roper noticed some movement behind them, so he said, “No.”
“Damn it!” Hampstead said, raising his rifle.
“Wait—” Wilkins said. He’d come to know Roper better than the other two, and perhaps had some qualms about killing him, but Roper would never know. Prince had crept into the house behind them, bleeding from the shoulder, but holding his pistol in his hand.
“Drop ’em!” he shouted.
Surprised by the voice behind them, all three men started to turn. Roper went for his gun. Bando and Dexter hit the floor to get out of the way. Too late the men realized their mistake. Two of them started to turn back, but Roper fired twice, Prince fired once. Of the three men, only Templeton pulled his trigger, but he fired into the floor. The three of them went down, and Bando and Dexter were on them quickly, kicking their guns away just in case.
Roper’s two men checked the bodies. Roper looked past them at Prince, who was on the floor now, but conscious. He waved a hand at Roper to let him know he was all right.
“They’re dead, boss,” Bando said.
Roper looked around. Harwick was slumped against the wall, his hand on his bloody shoulder. He was alive, but he wasn’t any good to anyone.
Victoria Westover was draped over her husband’s body. He went to her, turned her over just enough to see that she had taken a bullet in the chest. She was as dead as her husband.
“Well, damn it!” Roper said, standing. “Now who do I get my answers from?”
66
Roper walked into Donald White’s office and looked around at the furnishings. Quite different from the empty room he’d been in during his prior trip to Washington. This one had walls lined with bookshelves and cabinets and hung with photos of White and certain Washington dignitaries. His desk was large and utilitarian, the chairs plain and functional. Everything fit Donny White’s personality perfectly. There was one window behind him, which looked out onto the White House in the distance.
“So this is your real office?” he asked. “This time I rate?”
“Sit down, Roper,” White said. “You’ve got a right to be upset. By the way, thanks for bringing young Prince back. He’s doing fine.”
“He was helpful,” Roper admitted, taking a seat, “so I thought I’d bring him back to you slightly battered, but in one piece.”
“I appreciate it. Would you like a drink?”
“No, I don’t want a drink, Donny,” Roper said. “I want answers. What did Howard Westover and his friends do at the end of the war that led to all this death twenty years later? Why did you lie to me about the records being lost?”
“Roper,” White said, “you know I can’t tell you everything. Unless, of course, you want to come to work for me. Once you have the right clearance—”
“Oh, no,” Roper said, “you’re not going to blackmail me into joining
the Secret Service. I did my time with Allan, I’m not going to serve under you.”
“Well, then,” White said, spreading his hands, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to live with having a few gaps in the story.”
“A few gaps?” Roper repeated. “That’s what you call it?”
“You know,” Donald White said, “you could have tried to get a few more answers from your client before you took the job.”
Roper made a face and said, “Don’t remind me. I know I got myself in a mess in the first place.”
“Yes, you did.”
Roper sat forward in his chair.
“That doesn’t mean I have to stay in the dark.”
“Settle back,” White said. “Suppose you tell me what you think was going on.”
“We making a game of it?”
“It was no game, was it, Tal?”
“I think Westover and his men pulled some kind of a job, then fell out. Gerald Quinn put a bullet into Westover, but they all ended up going their way with their share of the proceeds.”
“And?”
“And for some reason, Westover got a Medal of Honor out of it.”
“Seems to me that would make the others pretty dissatisfied.”
“Yeah, but they couldn’t say anything without incriminating themselves,” Roper went on. “Now, years later, the government decides they want to recall some medals. Westover’s is one of them. I’m thinking you suspected him of something at the end of the war, but couldn’t prove it. What I can’t figure is, why try to take his medal away after all this time, and him being sick.”
White shrugged and said, “Maybe his name was just on the list.”
“Then you hear I’ve been called in, and you think I’m going to come up with the proof, make it easy to take the medal and maybe even prosecute him. A last-ditch effort to solve the mystery of the missing…what?”
“We didn’t know exactly who you were working for,” White said, “but then neither did you, right?”
“Westover was sick,” Roper said, “but not as sick as they let on. And then those other three…”
“Tal, you were trying to save their lives,” White said. “I never figured they’d turn on you.”
“Sure you did,” Roper said, “that’s why you sent Prince.”
Bullets & Lies (Talbot Roper 01) Page 19
