by Jory Sherman
“What’re you going to do in town, Del?” Phil asked.
“Collect some money for one thing,” Delbert said. “Sleep. Drink some whiskey. See my gal.”
“Can I go with you?”
“Hell no,” Delbert said. Maude gave Phil a sharp look, and he dropped down to sit on the floor, cross-legged, his hair sticking out like an explosion of straw, a sheepish look on his face.
“What about these two doves?” Jeter said, finally looking at the two women on the divan. “They don’t look like whores.”
“Pa,” Maude said.
“Well, his gal’s a whore, ain’t she?”
“You mind your manners, Jeter,” she said. “These gals are Del’s hostages. He wants us to look after them.”
Delbert looked at Phil, then at his father.
“If they run, you either catch ’em right quick, Pa, or you shoot ’em. Got that, cousin Phil?”
“Is that what you do with hostages?” Phil asked.
“That’s what you do with these two. And anybody rides up lookin’ for ’em, you shoot them, too.”
“Who might that be?” Jeter asked.
“Don’t know what they look like. Hiram does. Hiram?”
“One’s a Mex,” Hiram said, “the other’s a white man, kinda tall, brown hair, maybe, and he got an eagle look to him.”
“What’s an eagle look?” Maude asked.
“Oh, you know. He sees everything, looks everywhere all the time. Only saw him once’t or twice, Ma. Big feller. Wide shoulders. A damned cowboy.”
“Ho ho,” Jeter said. “Just my kind of meat.” He held an imaginary rifle to his shoulder and sighted down the imaginary barrel and pulled an imaginary trigger.
Everyone in the room laughed except Felicity and Pilar.
Felicity sat up straight and gave Jeter a dirty look. He reared back, surprised.
“You’re all a heartless pack of . . . wolves,” she said. “My husband will be coming after me, and Pilar’s husband, too. They’re both good shots.”
“Well, now,” Jeter said, “we’ll give ’em both a kindly welcome, little lady. Don’t you worry your pretty head about that.”
“Your sons stole our cattle and burned down our houses and our barn,” she said. “How can you live with yourselves?”
“You mind your tongue, missy,” Maude cut in. “Don’t go castin’ no stones.”
“They’s some what grows cows,” Jeter said, taking his corncob pipe from his mouth, “and others what takes ’em to market. Who in hell do you think is smarter?”
“It’s still stealing,” Felicity said. “You’re all criminals.”
“Now, don’t you be callin’ the kettle black, missy,” Maude said. “You ain’t without sin. Ain’t nobody is.”
Felicity just glared at Maude, too furious to speak.
Pilar squeezed her hand as if to warn her.
Del got up.
“Hiram’s going to be riding guard tonight,” he said. “He knows what them two jaspers look like. You hear him shoot, you get ready.”
“You mind your tracks comin’ in here, Del?” Jeter asked.
“I don’t expect they’ll find us out here, at least not right away. We covered our tracks pretty well.”
He walked over to the divan and looked down at Felicity.
“I got a permanent room at the Clarendon, Felicity,” he said. “I’ll come back for you in a day or two. You might like livin’ high on the hog.”
She could not escape the look of lust on Delbert’s face. He was undressing her with that look, and she could feel his rough hands on her breasts. She wanted to cringe, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“Delbert,” she said, “go sleep with your whore. You’d have to kill me before I’d give you the time of day.”
“Bitch,” he said, suddenly angry. He brought himself under control then and touched a finger to the brim of his hat. “I like bitches. If they claw and scream, I like ’em even better. Be seein’ you, Felicity.”
She wanted to spit at him as he turned to go, but she just sat there and fumed silently.
Then she saw the look in Hiram’s eyes and in Phil’s, and sank back on the divan, trying to make herself as small as possible.
Pilar sighed and crossed herself quickly. She looked heavenward, a deep confusion in her mind.
She felt as if they had been brought to an insane asylum, and she was afraid. She was dirty and sweaty and very tired. Her body ached from sleeping on hard ground, and her buttocks were tender from riding. She missed Julio and prayed that he could come soon and deliver her from these godless and cruel people.
Delbert closed the door behind him, and the room was silent for a moment.
Maude looked at Pilar and Felicity. She smiled a wan smile.
“I’ve got just the room for you two,” she said. “It ain’t got no winders, and it’s pretty cramped. But it has two cots in it, and I can lock it up tight at night.”
Felicity glared at her.
“If’n you misbehave, I just might give the key to Hiram or Phil after we turn down the lamps.”
Felicity stared at the woman in disbelief. Maude had that same look on her face that she had seen on Delbert’s.
Felicity knew that she had somehow finally met a group of people who were more than criminals.
They were pure evil.
The most evil people she had ever encountered.
And Brad could not find her soon enough.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Brad was astonished to see the old town of Oro City teeming with people. He knew that they had incorporated the town early in 1878 after a couple of geologists discovered carbonite, and there was talk of mining lead. Lead mining might bring the town back to life, the old-timers said. Oro City had died when the gold ran out, but now the population had swelled with men digging out lead instead of gold.
He rode to the High Grade and saw that it was no longer a ramshackle saloon hanging onto the past but had a new false front and sign, and a much bigger floor space, complete with glitter gals in their skimpy lace, brocade skirts, and bodices. He tied Ginger to an empty hitch rail and walked through newly varnished batwing doors. A tinkling piano sounded from the far corner and nearly every table was filled. He couldn’t see much until his eyes adjusted to the shift of light, but then he saw empty spaces at the long bar, which, he noticed, was also new.
He found an empty stool at the far end of the bar and sat down. He felt out of place in the din, and none of the girls paid him any mind so busy were they plying the tables, flirting with hard-rock miners, young dandies, and fat men in business suits puffing on cigars.
A barkeep wearing a red brocade vest and black arm-bands, with a small apron tied around his waist, walked up to Brad.
“What’s your pleasure, Mister,” the bartender said.
“Beer cold?”
“It ain’t frozen, but it’s fairly cool.”
“Pull me a draft of the coolest, then.”
“That trail dust on you, or you been diggin’ on Carbonite Hill?”
Brad laughed.
“Does it show that much?”
“Mister, you look like a cowman who’s been ridin’ drag for forty mile.”
Brad laughed again.
“Well, I’m no lead miner.”
“There’s more than lead being mined.”
“I thought the gold ran out.”
“It sure did. But they been findin’ veins of silver in that carbonite. It’s a regular bonanza all over again. You still need a hot bath.”
“I’ll wash up at the Excelsior,” he said. “Just got into town.”
“How long’s it been since you’ve been here? The Excelsior burned down about a year or so ago, when we was old Oro City.”
“Been that long, I guess. So, the hotel didn’t rebuild?”
“Nope.”
“What’s the best hotel in town, then?”
“That’d be the Clarendon. Might be full up.�
�
“I’ll look around.”
“Try Main Street or State Street. You might find some-thin’.”
“Thanks,” Brad said.
The bartender brought him a glass mug filled with beer and two inches of foam. The beer was tepid but washed the dust out of his throat. He learned the barkeep’s name was Larry. Larry didn’t ask him his, and looking around, Brad could see why. Men came and went, dozens of them, most looking down-and-out. Brad didn’t see Julio anywhere, but he saw several Mexicans sitting at tables, smoking cigarettes, and eyeing the young women.
Brad sipped his beer and felt lightheaded after a few swallows. He didn’t want to get drunk, but he was so hungry he could eat the south end of a northbound horse. He kept looking at the batwings, hoping to see Julio come in. It had been three days, and this was where he had told Julio to meet him.
Larry walked by every so often and looked at Brad’s glass. When it was nearly empty, Larry leaned over the bar.
“Ready for another?”
“In a minute. You ever hear tell of a man named Delbert Coombs. He’s got a brother named Hiram.”
Larry’s expression changed.
The ready smile was gone, the laughter in his eyes had faded. Instead, the corners of his mouth bent downward and his eyebrows raised a good quarter inch and his eyes narrowed slightly.
“You got business with the Coombs boys?”
“Maybe.”
“I took you for a cattleman or sheepherder, Mister, not one of that bunch.”
“I’m not looking for a job with Coombs.”
“Good. Delbert and his whole bunch have a bad reputation in certain parts of town.”
“I never met the man,” Brad said.
“Then, why do you ask about him?”
“Maybe you can tell me something about that reputation he has in certain parts.”
“I could, but I ain’t goin’ to. Del Coombs carries a lot of weight in Oro City.
“That could mean anything.”
“Let’s say he’s on the shady side of the law. Nobody can prove anything, but he’s big in the beef business. Supplies all the hotels and eating establishments from here clear to Denver and points in between with fresh beef.”
“Where does he get his beef?” Brad asked.
Larry shrugged and looked around him to see if anyone was in earshot. They were alone.
“Nobody knows. But some people ask. Them who ask too loud don’t come in the High Grade no more.”
“What do you mean, Larry? Exactly.”
“I mean you don’t see those folks no more. Like sheriffs and lawmen who come here and start askin’ questions. You ain’t packin’ a star under that shirt, are you?”
Larry looked at the slight bulge in Brad’s shirt. The rattles.
Brad shook his head.
“I’m no lawman,” he said.
“What’s your business with Coombs, if I might ask?”
“It’s about some beef missing from my ranch, Larry, but I don’t want that information bandied about.”
“You sayin’ Del Coombs rustled your beef?”
“About two hundred head.”
Larry let out a low whistle and scratched his head.
“Something wrong?” Brad asked.
“I’ve been here since the gold rush,” he said. “Seen ’em come and go. Seen ranchers who used to come to town, come in here to wet their thirst. Heard ’em talk about drivin’ cattle to Denver or sellin’ their beeves in Pueblo. First thing you know, they don’t come here no more and Del’s selling meat. Not on the hoof but already dead and ready to be cut into steaks and chops, turned into filets, T-bones, sirloins, and ground up for the Mexes.”
“And no more ranchers,” Brad said.
“No proof of rustling, neither. No sir, you’re the first man I seen in here who got rustled and lived to tell about it.”
“You’ve been a big help, Larry. I’ll take another of those draft beers.”
“Coombs has him a permanent room at the Clarendon. More like a fancy suite.”
“Thanks.”
Larry stood up.
“If you go up against him, you don’t stand a chance, Mister. Any one of his cronies would rub you out without battin’ an eye.”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t do the same to them?”
“I didn’t think you were a crazy man. I could be wrong, though.”
Larry walked away, taking Brad’s empty glass. He held it under the spigot of a tapped keg and filled it slowly. He took a wooden spoon that was almost flat and wiped away the top of the foam and poured a small amount of beer in the glass.
“Four bits,” he said, setting the glass in front of Brad. “Forgot to charge you for the first one.”
“Two bits for a beer? Price has gone up,” Brad said.
“Like I said, Oro City is a boom town.” He smiled as Brad laid out a pair of quarters. They clattered on the bar-top. Larry scooped them up.
“Case you’re wonderin’,” he said, “none of the Coombs boys are here today. Been gone the better part of a month. But I hear the Clarendon got in a shipment of beef last night. Fresh beef.”
He walked away, and Brad stared after him. What was he getting into? How many men did Delbert Coombs have? At least six, he figured, from reading the tracks. Six against one. Or six against two if Julio showed up.
But he might not have to face them all at once. He had only seen two of them. Which meant two of them had seen him. If he saw those two, he would recognize them. And, they would recognize him.
He did not know what Delbert or his brother, Hiram, looked like. But they were the honchos, evidently.
Should he go to the local sheriff and file a complaint against Coombs? Did he have proof that they rustled his cattle? Not with him, but maybe that stockyard where he had braced Toad and Freddie might have enough evidence of rustled beef to offer a court of law. Did they even have a court of law in Oro City?
Brad did not know.
So many questions, he thought. He knew where Coombs stayed now, but how far could he go without the law on his side? And what if the law was on Delbert’s payroll? There was something very rotten about a town that harbored such a man, a killer and a rustler who had been getting away with his crimes for years.
The batwing doors swung open, and Brad saw the silhouette of a man enter the saloon. He could not see anything but an outline, but the figure looked familiar.
The man stepped inside and turned his head, looking around the room. Brad raised his hand.
Julio saw Brad and began walking toward him, slow at first, then faster and faster the closer he got.
Brad motioned to the empty stool next to him.
“Sit down,” he said, in Spanish.
Julio beamed.
“I am glad to see you, Brad,” he said. “Did you find Felicity?”
“No. What about Pilar?”
“They tricked us, those men. Pilar was not with the ones I tracked. They changed the horses to fool us.”
“They sure did. Will you take a drink?”
Julio looked at the beer in front of Brad.
“Maybe I will drink una cerveza,” he said. “Tengo mucho hambre.”
“Yeah, I’m hungry, too.”
Brad waited for Larry to turn around, then beckoned to him and pointed to his glass and held up one finger.
“Tell me all you know, Julio,” he said.
“Only if you tell me what you have found out, mi jefe.”
“You might have to drink two beers before we eat, Julio.”
“I do not care. I also have hunger for knowledge, knowledge about my Pilar and your Felicity.”
“Well, I found Rose. She is in the stable getting shod. So we have a horse for Carlos. And, we may need him.”
“You know something, then.”
“I know something.”
Larry brought the beer, and Brad paid him two bits.
“It’s good you have a friend here, Mister,” t
he barkeep said. “You might need a few more.”
Julio looked puzzled.
“What does he say?”
“I’ll tell you everything I know, Julio. Just tell me what you saw, what you learned.”
Julio put the glass to his lips, drank through the foam. His lips were lathered, and he wiped them with his sleeve.
“I saw two men,” he said. “One was riding Tico. I mean he was not riding him, but Tico was there. They were two of the rustlers.”
“Do you know their names?”
“One was called Ridley, I think. I think the other was called Abner. I do not know which one was riding Tico. But Tico is tied up outside this cantina. I did not see the other horse outside.”
“What? Do you mean one of the men is here? Right in here?”
“I do not know. I only saw you, patrón.”
“Well, look around, Julio. Take your time. Tell me if you see either of the men you tracked.”
Julio craned his neck. He looked around the room, then along the bar.
He ducked his head as if trying to hide behind his glass of beer.
“He is here, at the other end of the bar. The man standing next to a pretty girl. He is one of those I saw.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I am sure. I do not know if that is the Ridley one. I—I do not remember.”
“It doesn’t make any difference. Thanks.”
“What will you do, Brad?”
Brad could not answer Julio’s question just then. He was studying the man, memorizing his features.
The man had his arm around one of the glitter gals. He seemed to know her. They were both smiling. Laughing. And drinking.
So, he thought, the High Grade is the gang’s watering hole. And one of the chickens had come home to roost. That was a good sign. It reminded him of hunting prong-horn antelope on the plains. He just waited for them to come to the watering hole. He picked out the one he wanted, took aim, and pulled the trigger. He and Felicity ate antelope that night.
“Well,” he said to Julio, his voice pitched low, “we found their watering hole. Ever hunt antelope, Julio?”
TWENTY-EIGHT
Brad saw the puzzlement on Julio’s face. But he had already made up his mind, and there was no time to explain. He beckoned to Larry, who was heading their way, his hands holding five or six glasses by their rims. Larry dropped the empty glasses in a tub of wash water behind the bar and came up to the end where Brad and Julio were sitting.
