by JJ Zep
“Even if you get your weapons, who’s going to fire them?” Pastor Ray scoffed. “There’s only twelve men in this town, and other than you fellers and Cal, all of them are members of my congregation.”
“Women are quite capable of firing a weapon,” Yonder said.
“Yes they are,” Pastor Ray agreed, “In my experience, women are capable of just about anything.”
“Okay, let’s bring her all back on target.” Nate said. “So we drive into Whelan and pick up some munitions, then we come back here and set up our Alamo. What about our other problem? What if they have us surrounded?”
“We need to set up a couple of fall back positions,” I said, “and we need a plan for getting to them without getting ourselves shot.”
Old man Crouch started slowly lifting his hand and Yonder saved him the trouble by saying, “Mr. Crouch?“
“We can use the railroad,” Crouch said.
seven
“The railroad?” Yonder said, as though addressing a child.
“Old boy’s flipped this time,” Nate said.
“But, Mr. Crouch, the railroad hasn’t run to Pagan since the mine closed. That’s nigh on eighty years.” Yonder said.
Crouch nodded his head seriously, as though acknowledging a sad truth.
“So how can we…”
“The mine rail,” Crouch interrupted.
“The mine rail?”
“There was a time when Pagan was a booming place you know,” Crouch continued. “You should have seen her in those days, streets all lit with electric light, gaming tables at the Kimberly Saloon, Oldsmobiles and Hudsons in every drive. We had us a school and a medical centre and…”
“Mr. Crouch, the mine rail?” Yonder reminded him.
“I’m getting to that,” Crouch said as though resenting the interruption. “Of course in those days, I was just a boy, but it was a sight to see. My pa worked in the mine you know, even took me up there a time or two, when Jim Kimberly allowed.”
“Jim Kimberly?”
“Oh yes, Silver Jim, they called him, owned the mine, the saloon, hell you could say the whole darn town belonged to him. The day that Burt Harford shot Silver Jim is the day Pagan died I always say.”
“Mr. Crouch, all this is very interesting, but…” Yonder started before the old man cut he off with a look.
“Shot him dead right there in the street outside the Kimberly Saloon, he did, and all over a woman. Young lady, do you think I could get some water?”
Yonder poured him a glass, and he sipped from it, dribbling as much down his chin as he swallowed.
“Bella Harford her name was, Belle to all that knew her, and she was a pretty young thing. Never did know what she saw in old Burt, but her and Silver Jim, now there was a handsome couple. And as is usually the case with these things, everyone knew about their goings on, except Burt.” The old man chuckled to himself, his eyes misty with remembering.
“Jezebel,” Ray muttered.
“Anyhow, Belle and Jim had to keep their liaisons discreet, this being a small town and all, so Silver Jim got in some of his boys from the mine, swore them all to secrecy and got them digging a tunnel.”
“A tunnel?” Nate said.
“Yes sir, my father was on that crew and Jim Kimberly paid handsomely to keep his little secret. My daddy bought himself a brand new Olds, straight off the lot in Amarillo, drove that car till the day he died.”
“So where is this tunnel?” Nate insisted.
Old Crouch took another sip of water, his hand shaking so much Ray had to steady it. Even the pastor seemed captivated by the story.
“The tunnel,” Crouch said, “runs from the storage cellar in the Kimberly Saloon out towards the mining supply depot. Belle and Jim used to rendezvous back there in them days and no one ever saw them coming and going. It was only in later years, when my pa was in the nursing home near Pampa, and Silver Jim was twenty years in the ground, that my pa told me the story.”
“You said something about the mine rail, Mr. Crouch,” Yonder reminded him.
“Did I? Oh yes, so I did. Well, the mine rail runs underground from the supply depot right the way through those hills.”
eight
The Kimberly Saloon stood on A Street right next to the Sherriff’s Office, which in a mining boom town must have saved a lot of commuting time. The saloon was a two-storey, wood-frame building had been built in the late eighteen hundreds. It resembled something straight out of a western movie, but its glory days were long gone. Most of the windows and doors had been boarded up and its wooden walls had been bleached a sickly gray by the sun and the years.
Between Nate and I we pried the boards away from the main entrance, revealing, true to form, a pair of batwing doors behind. We entered the saloon, and I was amazed at how well preserved it was. To one side stood a long bar counter with a mirror behind it. There were gaming tables and chairs, a piano in the corner and a small stage next to it, all covered liberally in dust and cobwebs. At the back of the room a stairway led to a landing and the upstairs rooms.
Nate pointed out a door to the side of the bar and we headed in that direction, the floorboards protesting our every step with loud creaks. Behind the door we found a small office, with a roll top desk, a few file cabinets and a floor safe, it’s door open. There was a faded carpet on the floor and when we rolled it back we found a trapdoor, with a ring set into it. The hinges of the door had stiffened with age and it took both of us to lift it, but once we did we found a wooden staircase leading into the darkness.
Nate rustled up some papers from the desk, rolled them into a torch and lit it, and we descended the stairs. I’d expected to find a storeroom down there, but what we found instead was a bedroom.
There was a fancy three-pronged candleholder on the bedside table and Nate lit a candle for each of us, lighting the space.
As the room came into focus, Nate let out a whistle between his teeth. “Guess the old feller was wrong about the rendezvous spot,” he said.
The room was small, but well appointed, with a double bed, a fancy dressing table, and a large ornate bureau. There was even a small icebox. The floor was carpeted and the walls were papered with patterned red wallpaper that looked expensive.
“So where’s this tunnel old Crouch was talking about?” Nate asked.
“Well,” I said, “I’m guessing the Jim and Belle didn’t have much need for clothing down here, so I’m wondering why they needed such a big closet.” I opened the door to the bureau and pushed aside the few items that hung there. The candle illuminated the inside and, clearly outlined in the back panel, was a narrow doorway, held in place by a hook-and-eye latch.
“Silver Jim, you sly ol’ fox,” Nate chuckled.
The bureau was tall and I hardly had to stoop at all to step inside. I unlatched the hook and pushed the door and it swung outward with barely a creak. Beyond it lie a tunnel of maybe six feet high and three across. There were support beams on either side and the roof was supported by what looked like railway sleepers. Silver Jim had gone to great lengths to ensure that his ladylove wouldn’t get crushed by a cave in.
We followed the tunnel for fifty yards and came to another staircase, this one rough hewn from raw timber. Some of the steps had collapsed and another broke under my weight, but we made it to the top, pushed back the trapdoor, and stepped into a closet sized space. The room had neither windows nor doors. I felt along each of the walls trying to find some kind of hidden latch or handle, but there was none.
Then Nate suddenly said, “Gotcha!” and a panel slid back, revealing what looked like thick drapes beyond. We climbed under the drapes and found ourselves in a large office, long since emptied of its appointments. To the right a large window offered a view of Pagan Hill. The drapes we had climbed under covered one of the other walls. They may once have been maroon or burgundy but were now the color of dying roses, although I could still make out the embossed logo, “Pagan Hill Silver Mining Company”.
&nb
sp; We pulled the drapes back and could now see the clever sliding door that Silver Jim had had built for him and Belle to slip through and make their way to their love-nest under the saloon.
Other than Silver Jim’s office, the Supply depot consisted of a large room with tiered wooden racks running in three long rows. Two of the racks had collapsed and the third seemed to be held up only by the ladder leaning against it, which was probably used in past times to access the higher shelves.
Each row terminated in a storage bin, containing a mixed assortment of rusty old nails, bolts and other bits and scraps of metal.
At the end of the room we found the elevator cage, a simple wooden box with a metal concertina door. It may once have been operated with electricity, but now we used a hand wheel to lower it the short distance to the mine rail that old man Crouch had referred to.
The tracks seemed still to be in tact, and stretched into the darkness and out of sight. Painted on the wall in graying whitewash was a number one.
“Any idea where it comes out,” I asked Nate.
“Everywhere,” he said. “Cal and me have seen maybe five shaft entrances up there in the hills, the place is like one big anthill.”
To my left I saw a door cut into the rock and went to check it out. The word stenciled on a sign attached to the wood said, “Danger. Keep Out. Explosives.”
We extinguished our candles and I waited for my eyes to adapt to the dark before entering the narrow room. It was darker in there than in the mineshaft, but feeling around in the dark, I traced the line of what felt like shelves build into the wall. I ran my hand across these and they were empty. Then, as I turned to try the other wall, my foot struck something hollow. I knelt down and lifted the box. It felt empty. The second was empty too, but the third seemed to have a bit more weight. I carried it out of the room and told Nate to check out the shelves on the other side. Nate came up empty handed, so we headed up to the surface.
The box I’d found had four dry and dusty sticks of dynamite in it.
nine
By the time we got back to the town hall, it was late afternoon. Yonder had made the transformation from town councilor to town doctor and was applying iodine to some kid’s skinned knee.
When she’d finished we told her what we’d found and she filled us in on the activities around town. “Ray’s been stirring it up,” she said. “He’s been making house calls and telling all who’ll listen to oppose our ‘militarization of the town’, I think he calls it.”
“Anyone paying attention to him?” Nate asked.
“One or two, his flock of course, one or two others. He tried it on with Cal. Cal told him to… well I’m not going to repeat what Cal said. I think you can imagine.”
“That boy knows some cuss words the devil himself ain’t thought of yet. How’s he doing any way?”
“He’s fine. I’m having a job getting him to rest up. A day or two and he’ll be right as rain. It will hurt for a while yet though, he may need to use a crutch for a week or two.”
“Well, I think I’ll stop by and brighten the boy’s day for him. I’ll see you two later.”
After Nate had left I said to Yonder, “Me and Nate will be heading into Whelan tomorrow, see if we can round up some guns. Will you be alright around here?”
“Oh yeah, I’ll cope, as long as the Dead Men don’t come calling and as long as I don’t have to listen to another one of Ray’s sermons.”
“We’ll be gone a day at most, has to be done. Without weapons we won’t stand a chance when they do come. And they will, I’m sure of it.”
“I understand.”
“Besides which, I’ve got a long list of things I need you to take care of while we’re away?”
“No problem, why don’t you stop by the house later on for dinner, bring that handsome dog of your along. We can go over it then.”
“Sounds good to me,“ I said and was about to leave when Yonder took my hand and then gave me a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Chris,” she whispered.
I put my arms around her too and held her, realizing suddenly that I hadn’t held a woman in the three years since Rosie had died.
Then Yonder broke the embrace and I heard Nate’s voice from the doorway. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said.
“Not at all,” Yonder said, but Nate had already stalked off.
Before I left the town hall, I looked in on Kelly. He wasn’t at his bunk, but Alice, our one-time bus driver, told me she’d seen him outside.
I found Kelly sitting on the lawn in the shade of a Juniper tree.
“Hey,” I said.
“Thought you were gone,” he replied without looking at me.
“Nah,” I said, “figured I’d stay a while. I’ve heard Pagan really comes to life at the weekends.”
He laughed at that, then said,” I saw your dog chasing something through the brush, down behind the church, if you’re looking for him.”
“I’ll catch up with him later. Giuseppe’s pretty much his own boss.”
“You called him Giuseppe, cool name.”
“Isn’t it? Listen Kelly, I got something I’ve got to ask you.”
Kelly didn’t answer, but trailed his hand through the grass.
“You know a guy named Babs?”
“No.”
“Charles Babbage, Charlie B?
“No.”
“Did your mother know him?”
“My mother knows lots of men,” he said.
“Uh huh, but…”
“Why are you asking me this stuff?”
I reached into my pocket, took out the picture Babs had given to me and handed it to Kelly.
“I hate that picture,” he said, “Where’d you get it?”
“Babs gave it to me, back in Tulsa, back at the prison.”
“I told you I don’t know the man,” Kelly insisted.
“Okay, just had to ask. I had the idea he wanted me to find you and take you back to your mother.”
“And now you’ve found me and you’re ready to leave me behind in this god awful place.”
“We can talk about that later.”
“Does that mean I can leave with you?” Kelly said, his voice taking on a higher pitch.
“Later,” I said. “I think I’d better go round up Giuseppe before he gets himself in trouble with Pastor Ray.”
I got up to leave, then turned back to Kelly. “Oh, one other thing,” I said, “Babs said he was trying to find you as a favor to your mother, but he seemed to have this crazy idea he was looking for a girl. Any idea why that is?”
“Like I said, I don’t know the man,” Kelly said, and I knew he was lying.
ten
When I got back to the house, Nate was sitting on the porch sipping a beer with Giuseppe lying at his feet. The dog got up and trotted over and sniffed my hand in greeting. Nate blanked me entirely.
“Hey Nate,” I said, and when he ignored me I added, “Yonder’s invited us for dinner.”
“I’ve had as much of that woman’s cooking as I can stand,” Nate said staring into the distance.
“Thought it might be a good opportunity to go over our plans, what we discussed.”
“Oh, the two of you don’t need me for that. Ol’ Nate’s just along for the ride.” He took a slug on his beer, drained the bottle and tossed it into the brush.
“Look Nate, what you saw back there…”
“None of my concern. I ain’t married to the woman.”
I obviously wasn’t going to get anywhere with him so if went inside, washed up and then spent some time checking out the weapons we’d taken from the bikers, three M-16 carbines with folding stocks, a couple of 9mm handguns, and a long barreled silver plated Colt revolver, similar to the one Virgil Pratt had favored.
I wondered what had become of Virgil, if Zelda had exacted her revenge by killing him outright, or if he was even now wandering the halls of his prison, a guest in his own Zombie Zoo.
&nbs
p; At about seven I set off for Yonder’s. Nate was in the kitchen, still drinking and ignored me when I asked him if he wanted to come along. Giuseppe though was keen to visit his favorite vet and trotted in front of me on the short walk over.
It was a beautiful cloudless evening with a billion stars alive in the heavens. I saw a comet streak by and made my wish. I wished that I’d find Ruby alive then changed my mind and wished that Ruby was alive and well and happy, and that she’d continue to be so whether I found her or not.
The meal at Yonder’s was less palatable than the previous one and by the time I was chasing the last piece of cauliflower around my plate, Yonder said, “You don’t have to finish that.”
“No, it was good,” I said.
“Liar,” she said and smiled at me.
“You grow your own vegetables?”
“Uh huh, I found a bunch of seeds at the store and they had enough fertilizer for the entire Panhandle. Cal and Nate turned up some plastic sheeting somewhere and built me a greenhouse of sorts. Where is Nate by the way?”
“He wanted to get some rest. We’ve got an early start in the morning.”
“Right, so maybe we’d better go over this list of chores you have for me.”
I took the list from my pocket and placed it on the table. On it I’d written some tasks and drawn a couple of diagrams. I now added an extra item to the end.
“There’s some heavy lifting here so I suggest you round up some help from the women and older boys. Alice is a stayer and Kelly will also pitch in I’m sure.”
“What is the deal with Kelly?” Yonder asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve never seen such a pretty girl try so hard to be a frump.”
“Girl?”
“Yeah of course. Why? Did you think she was a….boy?” She smiled then, “You did, didn’t you?
“That’s what she...he told me.”
“And you couldn’t see past it? Come on, those oversized t-shirts, thick plaid shirts in the middle of a Texas summer.”
