The bartender had left the bottle of rye standing in front of them. Danielle picked it up and poured Eddie Ray another drink.
Eddie Ray grinned. “I think I might have been wrong about you, Duggin.”
“Really?” Danielle looked surprised to hear him admit such a thing.
He looked repentant, and shrugged. “Yeah ... we just got off to a bad start. I never should have come to the hotel acting so pushy that day. I reckon I’m trying to apologize for it. See if we can’t go ahead and become friends.”
“You saw the whole shooting through the window a while ago, didn’t you?” Danielle asked matter-of-factly.
Eddie Ray’s face reddened. “Yeah, I might have,” said Eddie Ray. “But still, I’m offering my hand in friendship. We’re riding together, so we ought to try to get along, don’t you think?” He extended his rough right hand timidly.
“Yep, why not?” said Danielle, shaking his hand, then turning it loose as soon as she could lest she bring to his mind how small her hand was in his. “From now on we’ll try to get along,” she said, repeating his words.
Tuck Carlyle came back to the bar and, seeing that one of the outlaws they’d been discussing had joined them, remained friendly enough to his ole pal Danny Duggin yet a little standoffish toward Eddie Ray Moon. Raising his cup to this lips, finishing the coffee off, and setting the cup empty back on the bar top, Tuck took on an aura of authority. “Well, it’s time I got back to making my rounds. It’s been good to see you again, Duggin. And I appreciate your help a while ago. But remember what I told you. It makes no difference what you and I done together in the past. Now that I’m wearing a badge, upholding the law comes first.” His eyes drifted from Danielle to Eddie Ray. “I hope you and your friends understand that.”
“Yeah, I understand that, Carlyle,” said Danielle, sounding less than enthusiastic. “Good to see you too.” She touched her fingers to her broad hat brim.
“Evenin’ then,” said Tuck, tipping his hat and stepping away from the bar. Danielle and Eddie Ray both turned and leaned back against the bar, watching the deputy leave. “Well, there you have it,” said Danielle, a sound of regret in her best man’s voice. “Never stay friends with a lawman. That little piece of tin must have a way of changing a man through and through.”
“I’ve always said that very same thing,” said Eddie Ray. He chuckled and tossed back his rye whiskey. “And I’ll drink to it every time.”
Turning around to face the bar again, Danielle pushed the coffee cup away from her and, feigning anger, said, “To think I stood here drinking coffee like some sort of dandy.” She gestured the bartender to her and said, “Clear these cups away and give me a shot glass. I’ve got some catching up drinking to do.”
“Now you’re talking my language,” said Eddie Ray.
As the two stood at the bar, Eddie Ray not seeming to notice that he was the one doing all the drinking, Avery McRoy, who had been watching them from a far comer, slipped in beside them. “Mind if I join you fellows?” he asked.
Danielle, who had noticed him watching them for the past few minutes, looked him up and down, then said, “That all depends, mister. What’s on your mind?”
McRoy looked back and forth between them, then said, “I was hoping you could help me out some. See, I’m supposed to meet a fellow here on business.... His name is Hite. Either of you ever hear of him?” He gestured to the bartender for a glass, then filled it form the bottle on the bar.
“Yeah,” said Eddie Ray, his voice starting to take on a whiskey slur, “we’re riding with—”
“That all depends too,” said Danielle, keeping Eddie Ray from blurting anything out.
“A lot of things depend with you, don’t they, mister?” said Avery McRoy in a testy tone of voice.
Danielle turned to face him, a hand on her tied-down Colt. “You came to us, mister, not the other way around. If you’ve got something to say, spit it out. If not, swallow it.” She stared at him coldly until he was forced to look away.
“All right,” said Avery McRoy, raising his hands chest high in a show of submission. “Maybe I shouldn’t have approached you two this way. No harm done, I hope.” His voice lowered almost to a whisper. “I’m looking for Buck Hite and his boys. Cherokee Earl sent me.”
Danielle offered a half-friendly smile. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She nodded. “Yeah, that would be us all right. Where’s Earl?”
“Easy now,” said McRoy. “I’ve never seen either one of you before. Earl sent me to find you boys and make sure everything is on the up and up, the way we’ve planned it. I need to see Buck Hite so I’ll know everybody here is who they say they are.”
“Makes sense to me,” said Danielle. “I’m Danny Duggin. This is Eddie Ray. Come on, we’ll take you to see Buck Hite right now.”
“Real good,” said McRoy, raising the drink to his lips. He downed his whiskey, then looked closer at the shadowed face beneath the broad hat brim. “Duggin, you look familiar. Have you and I run across one another before somewhere?”
“Maybe.” Danielle shrugged. “Who knows?” She stepped back from the bar and thumbed toward the door while the music from the piano filled the tavern. “Want to stand here all night talking about it, or go find Buck and see what we’ve got to do to make some money in this wide spot in the road?”
“Mister, are you always this unobliging?” said McRoy, turning away from the bar.
“My pal Duggin here has no play in him at all,” Eddie Ray chuckled. “I found that out the hard way.”
Leaving Lambert’s Tavern, the three walked along the darkened street until they spotted Buck Hite’s horse hitched out front of a run-down saloon where a scraggly row of chickens sat perched along a wooden bench out front. As the three approached, the chickens protested in a raised cackling and a flurry of batting wings.
“What the hell kind of place is this?” Eddie Ray Moon asked no one in particular, fanning small feathers from the air.
A fat black man stepped out of the dark shadows and said in a deep, flat voice, “This is Chicken Mama Loo’s place. Like the sign done said.” He pointed a large, long finger up at a sun-bleached wooden sign hanging by one comer chain.
Eddie Ray Moon stopped fanning his hand and looked up in the darkness. “Jesus,” he said in disgust. “That sign ain’t said nothing since Napoleon wore Josephine’s bloomers.”
Upon hearing Eddie Ray’s words, all cordiality left the big black man’s face. “What you men want here? You come for some of the hot pipe?”
“I never use it,” said Eddie Ray. “What about you, Duggin? Care for some tar opium?”
“I pass,” said Danielle, stepping closer to the door. Avery McRoy and Eddie Ray followed.
“Where you think you’re going?” the black man asked.
“We’re here to see the man who’s riding that horse,” said Danielle.
“He a friend of yours?” the man asked.
“If he wasn’t a friend, we wouldn’t be standing here asking—we’d already have shot him and you both.”
The black man nodded, then looked at Buck Hite’s horse and said, “Yeah, okay, he’s in there.” He stepped to one side, turned down a thick metal door handle, and shoved the door open. “I ’posed to ask for your guns, but I don’t expect you’d give them to me, would you?”
“It ain’t very likely,” said Danielle, stepping inside the dark opium-clouded saloon.
The big black man laughed under his breath. “That’s the same thing your friend told me. Yes, sir, he did.”
A thick cloud of gray-brown smoke loomed heavily inside the small dirty saloon. Many of the drinkers stood slumped on the bar top. Others lay sprawled on tabletops, where candles stood in tin holders for the purpose of lighting the bowls of smudged opium pipes. Danielle spotted Buck Hite lounging at one of the tables in the back comer, and she walked straight to him. “Wake up, Buck,” she said, kicking the leg of his chair. “We’ve met up with one of Cherokee Earl’s me
n.”
“Hunh?” Startled, Buck Hite fumbled with his chair, trying to scoot it back from the table. “I ain’t asleep,” he said as if denying an accusation. “I was just watching these boys, seeing what all the fuss is about.” He looked back and forth among the three figures standing over him in the swirling drift of smoke. “I never smoke this stuff myself.” His eyes were shiny and red-streaked. His voice sounded thick.
“Good,” said Danielle. “Then you won’t mind us pulling you away long enough to talk business.” She grabbed his chair and tipped him out of it. He staggered to his feet. “Come on,” she said firmly. “Let’s go outside and get some air.”
Buck looked at Avery McRoy and asked in an almost belligerent tone, “Where the hell is Cherokee Earl? We’re supposed to meet with him, not one of his flunkies.”
McRoy bristled at Buck Hite’s words, but he managed to keep himself in check. “Earl sent me because I can be trusted. There’s only three of us, and the third man is busy taking care of something.”
They’d started for the door, but Buck Hite halted and looked at him pointedly. “There’s only three of you? I thought this was going to be a big operation! Why am I throwing in with a three-man gang? I can get better than that on my own.”
Avery McRoy walked on to the door as he spoke, causing Buck Hite to follow reluctantly. “We’ve got a couple of men still coming to join us. They stayed back along the trail to take care of some business.” He stopped out front of the run-down saloon amid fleeing chickens and batting wings.
Buck Hite closed the saloon door behind them. “Still, this gang of Earl’s ain’t sounding as strong to me now as it did back when we talked about joining forces.”
Avery McRoy started to speak, but from the darkness came Cherokee Earl’s voice as he walked forward, kicking a chicken out of his path. “I’m going to pretend like what I’m hearing is just your dope talking, Buck. Otherwise you and me would be shooting holes in one another right here and now. I hate belligerence of any sort.”
The sight of Cherokee Earl with his thumb hooked in his belt near his tied-down Colt had a sobering effect on Buck Hite. “Hell, Earl, you can’t blame a man for asking questions ... looking out for his own interest, can you?”
Cherokee Earl didn’t bother answering him. Instead, he looked across the shadowed faces standing before him. “Like McRoy said, we’re waiting for Harper and Frisco to join us. Unless something bad has befallen them, they’ll be along most any time.” Nodding at Danielle, he said, “You picked up a new man?”
“Yeah,” said Buck, trying hard to clear the opium stupor from his head. “This is Danny Duggin—a good gunman. He’s riding with us now.”
“Duggin,” said Cherokee Earl, touching his fingers to his hat brim. Then he said to Buck Hite, “What about the two men you sent back to check for those troublemakers?”
“They’re dead,” Buck said bluntly.
“Who killed them?” asked Earl.
“Duggin killed them,” said Buck. “They jumped him on the trail, and he took them both down. That’s why I hired him. If he can handle Daryl and Lon Trabough, that’s good enough for me.”
Cherokee Earl took a step closer, suspiciously eying her up and down. “Duggin, huh?”
“Yep, Duggin,” she repeated, standing her ground.
“So, Duggin, just what was you doing on the trail at that time?” Earl asked.
Here stood the man responsible for Stick’s death and all the other trouble she’d gone through. Danielle felt herself bristle slightly at his question. But she kept her anger in check and said coolly, “I felt a powerful urge drawing me in this direction ... must’ve been so’s I could get up here and answer a bunch of damn fool questions—why else?”
A tense dead silence fell over the group for a moment. Then Cherokee Earl let out a short laugh, saying, “I guess that’s about as straight an answer as I’ll ever get out of you.”
“Just about,” said Danielle flatly. “Anything else I say would just be me looking for the kind of answer I think you want to hear.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Either you pards need me working for you or you don’t.” She looked back and forth between Buck and Cherokee Earl. “It’s your call.”
Cherokee Earl nodded, understanding that if this Danny Duggin had anything to hide, he sure wasn’t worried about it. “Down to business then,” said Earl. “They’ve been moving lots of silver through this bank, but mostly in small lots from the independent mining companies. What we’re waiting for is a large shipment that’ll be here in two days. As soon as I get the word, you’ll hear about it from me or McRoy here. Meanwhile, we sit tight, keep a man in town at all times so we’ll know when to draw our men together.”
Thinking about the Waddell woman and how to get to her to save her, Danielle asked, “Shouldn’t we be camped together now? It looks like that would make it easier for everybody concerned.”
“You’re right, Duggin. It would,” said Earl, again eying him as if wondering what his interest might be. “But I make it a practice to keep a large body of men spread out a little before a raid. It’s a practice that has served the James Younger gang and others well over the years. I’m sticking with it.” He grinned, looking from one to the other of the men. “Besides, I’m what you might call honeymooning right now. I need a little privacy, if you understand what I mean.” He winked.
“Sure, no problem,” said Buck Hite, still sounding a bit groggy from the opium. “So long as you drop her ankles and pull your pants on quick once you hear about that silver load.”
The men chuckled, Earl included. “Don’t worry, Buck,” he said. “I’ve been with this woman long enough that I’m losing interest. Far as I’m concerned, you can have her once we take care of business here.”
“Much obliged, but none for me,” said Buck. “I know better than to take a woman offered to me for free. There’s a catch to it somewhere.”
“You might be right,” said Earl. “If she was all that much, I wouldn’t be getting rid of her. You saw right through that, Buck. Looks like you and me might be riding together for a nice long time.” His grin widened as a ripple of laughter stirred across the men. Danielle just listened, wondering how she would go about getting Ellen Waddell out of this alive.
Chapter 19
Ellen Waddell made good time starting out, riding down the steep, winding trail toward Taos. Yet once darkness had completely enveloped the land and she began to realize she had put some distance between herself and her captors, she slowed the horse to a walk and let the animal lead the way. Coming down out of a stretch of low hills onto some grasslands, Ellen caught sight of a campfire glowing in the distance. Using caution, she approached the fire as quietly as possible, the rifle lying across her lap.
When she’d reached what she judged to be a distance of a hundred yards, Ellen stepped down from the horse and led it through low brush and over loose rocky ground. She almost held her breath with each slight sound of the horse’s hooves. Reaching a stand of scrub cedars, she stopped the horse and knelt in the darkness, listening until she heard the sound of two men’s voices drift across the night. After a moment she stood up silently and whispered in the horse’s ear as if it understood her words. “You’ll have to wait here,” she said, tying the reins to a low scrub cedar.
She moved quietly, measuring and testing every step before setting her foot down firmly on the ground. She had no idea how long it had taken her to move the few remaining yards, but when she stopped again and sank down in the cover of wild grass, she could make out the fire clearly and see the two men huddled near it, their faces obscured by their wide hat brims. The smell of hot coffee and beans made her empty stomach moan softly. She knew she had to make a decision pretty soon whether or not to announce herself or move on. Looking down at the rifle in her hands as she smelled the food and coffee, she made up her mind. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and called out, “Hello the camp,” hearing the shallow sound of her voice in the broad, empty land.
“Yes, it is,” Dave replied, already recognizing his wife’s voice but not yet daring to believe his ears. He stood up in the firelight, looking toward the voice. “Ellen? Ellen Waddell? Is that you? It’s me, Dave!”
Frisco gave Dave Waddell a bemused look, thinking he’d just lost his mind. “Hey there, partner, you better try to get a grip on yourself—”
“Shhh,” Dave said quickly, hushing him up. “That’s my wife! I know it is!”
Hearing her name called out, Ellen’s first instinct was to turn and run, fearing these men were a part of Cherokee Earl’s gang and that somehow Earl had informed them that she was missing. But seeing the man stand up in the glow of the fire, hearing his voice, and watching as he looked back and forth trying to locate her, Ellen gasped, “Oh my God, Dave?” Then, realizing that it really was him, she called out loudly as she began to run toward him. “Dave! Dave! Yes, it’s me!”
Dave jerked his hat from his head as if to better identify himself. “Ellen! My God, Ellen!” He ran to her as she came into the firelight.
Frisco Bonham stood watching, stunned, as the two met and sank to their knees sobbing, embracing. His eyes searched the surrounding darkness. If this woman was here, it was pretty good odds that Cherokee Earl and the boys were too. He eyed the rifle that Ellen Waddell had dropped to the ground. Dirty Joe’s rifle, Frisco said to himself.
When Ellen could speak, she said to her husband, “I—I thought you were dead, Dave. I had no idea ...”
“That I would be searching for you?” Dave said, finishing her words for her as he wiped his eyes. “Ellen, I’ve nearly gone crazy looking for you!” He nodded quickly toward Frisco, then said, “This is Frisco Bonham, one of Cherokee Earl’s men. He’s been leading me to Earl ... so I could come get you.”
Ralph Compton Death Along the Cimarron Page 20
