Ralph Compton Whiskey River

by Compton, Ralph

“Come out of there, you troublemaking sons-of-bitches,” Estrello shouted.

  “We didn’t do nothin’,” Suggs whined. “We saw somebody on deck and come up here to see who it was. It was all an accident.”

  “You damned bunglers,” snarled Estrello. “If we don’t find them, we’ve lost the gold, and I’ll personally hang the two of you upside-down over a slow fire. Now get the hell off this boat and join the search.”

  In their haste to escape Estrello’s fury, Irvin and Suggs leaped over the side into neck deep water and mud. Quietly cursing Estrello, they stumbled up the riverbank not too far from where Betsy and Amanda had reached safety. Captain Jenks returned to the steamboat, to find Estrello pacing the deck.

  “It’s going to be impossible to find them in the dark,” the captain said. “Shall we just go on?”

  “Hell, no,” said Estrello. “We’re going to stay right here until first light and look some more, until we find them or their bodies.”

  “It’s going to cost you,” Captain Jenks said.

  “You’ll get everything that’s coming to you,” said Estrello ominously.

  Finally, exhausted from the search and having seen no sign of Betsy and Amanda, the men returned to the steamboats.

  “We can’t find them in the dark, Captain,” Bill said. “What’s going to be done?”

  “Estrello has ordered us to lay over here until daylight,” said Captain Jenks. “He will find the ladies or their bodies before we continue.”

  Mark and Bill climbed into Jake’s wagon, where they slept not a wink. They were wet, muddy, and exhausted, but none of that mattered. Amanda and Betsy were gone.

  When the gray of approaching dawn crept over the eastern sky, they went in search of the captain. “Captain Jenks,” Mark said, “if we had horses, we could do this much quicker.”

  “Then put one of the ramps in place and take your horses,” said Jenks.

  “Nick,” Bill shouted, “will you and Vernon help us get this ramp in place?”

  “Sure,” said Nick. “If you’re taking your horses, we’ll take ours. Mark, you don’t have a horse or saddle.”

  “I will,” Mark said. “Suggs and Irvin have saddles and horses. I’ll borrow one, and I’ll dare either of the skulking coyotes to say a word.”

  Seeing the ramp in place, all the men from the Star—except Irvin and Suggs—took their horses for the search. It was Ursino who found a boot print where Amanda and Betsy had emerged from the river.

  “They’re walking upstream,” Nick shouted.

  “I wonder if we’re doing them any favors, tracking them down,” said Bill, as he and Mark galloped to join Nick.

  “There’s not much else we can do,” Mark said. “There may not be a telegraph office any closer than St. Louis. We can’t leave them stranded on their own, without food.”

  But as it turned out, Bill and Mark had no choice. As though he feared just such a possibility, Estrello had ordered men from boats two and three to unload their horses and join in the pursuit. Amanda and Betsy heard the horses coming and turned to look. Bill and Mark leaped from their saddles while the horses were still moving. Wearily, Betsy and Amanda stumbled to them, tears streaking the mud on their faces. Some of the men from boats two and three reined up.

  “You’re wasting time here,” Wilder said. “Get them on horses and back to the steamboats.”

  “This is none of your damn business, Wilder.” said Mark.

  “I’m makin’it my business,” Wilder said.

  Wilder seized Mark’s shirt by the collar from behind. Mark tore loose, and with a long night of bottled-up fury and frustration behind it, smashed his fist into Wilder’s jaw. He went down and didn’t get up.

  “If Estrello don’t kill you for this, you lead a charmed life,” said Stackler.

  “I’m sorry we dragged you and Bill into this, Mark,” Betsy said.

  “I’m not,” said Bill. “If Estrello wants to blame somebody, let him go after Irvin and Suggs. They started all this.”

  Wilder sat up, a thin stream of blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. He looked at Mark and spoke in a venomous tone. “You don’t do that to me and live to talk about it, bucko. One day you and me will meet where we’re not bound by Estrello’s ten commandments. Then we’ll see just who’s the better man.”

  “I’m looking forward to that day, Wilder,” said Mark. “Until then, I’ll be careful not to turn my back on you.”

  Mark and Bill lifted Amanda and Betsy to their horses and mounted behind them. They soon arrived at the waiting steamboats, and with the ramp still in place, the riders trotted their horses aboard. When Amanda and Betsy were helped down by Mark and Bill, Captain Jenks actually smiled.

  “You men get those horses below deck and unsaddled,” said Estrello. “We’ve lost too much time as it is.”

  “Not until we settle something with you,” Mark said. “We’re damn tired of Irvin and Suggs dogging us. The next one of them that steps out of the dark without warning will get a dose of lead poisoning.”

  “I’ve taken care of that,” Estrello said shortly.

  Not wishing to remain alone on deck, Amanda and Betsy went with Mark and Bill to the lower deck. waiting while they unsaddled the horses.

  “In a way, I’m glad you found Betsy and me,” said Amanda, “and in another way, I wish you hadn’t. We might have had a chance to send that message for you.”

  “That’s what we planned to do, after we thought about it,” Betsy added.

  “I’m glad we found you, whatever the consequences,” said Mark. “We’d have lost our minds, not knowing if you were alive or dead.”

  “What do you suppose Estrello’s done with Irvin and Suggs?” Betsy asked.

  “They’re on the boat somewhere,” said Bill, “but I don’t think they’ll be bothering you or Amanda.”

  “I’m surprised Estrello didn’t shoot them both,” Mark said. “I think he’s keeping himself a mental list, and when he starts killing folks, the troublemakers within his own outfit will be the first to go.”

  “If I had the chance to shoot just one of these coyotes,” said Bill, “I think I’d rid us of Wilder. He’s as much or more a danger than Estrello himself.”

  By the time they reached the upper deck, the steamboats were moving again. Clemans and Ursino stood by the rail, watching the backwash from the big paddle wheel.

  “Lord, how I envy you, Mark,” Ursino said. “That’s the first time anybody’s ever laid a hand on Wilder. Of course, you’ll have to kill him.”

  “I reckon,” said Mark. “I don’t take any pleasure in that, but he looks and acts like one of the varmints that won’t have it any other way.”

  “I think most of Estrello’s outfit’s of the same mind,” Clemans said, “and that won’t make it any easier on us.”

  “That’s likely the worst part of this kind of life,” said Ursino. “Live by the gun long enough, and you know you’re goin’ to die by it. You become fatalistic, refusing to settle for anything less than a shoot-out.”

  “Let’s go sit in the wagon,” Betsy suggested. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

  “We are,” said Mark. “Irvin and Suggs have been told to back off, but that won’t stop them from watching us every minute.”

  They climbed into Jake’s old wagon. It seemed they had a little privacy.

  On the lower deck Irvin and Suggs sulked, suffering from the stinging rebuke they had received from Wolf Estrello. “Just what the hell kind of magic has this Harder and Rogers got, anyhow?” Suggs wondered. “I never seen any man so much as threaten Drew Wilder, but Rogers laid him out cold.”

  “You wasn’t there,” Irvin said. “How would you know?”

  “No,” said Suggs, “but Walsh Tilden was, and he couldn’t believe it.”

  “We’ve made some mistakes in our time, amigo, but this ranks among the worst,” said Irvin. “I think by the time Estrello collects for this last batch of rotgut whiskey and gets his hands o
n that gold, you and me will be very, very expendable.”

  “Hell, it won’t be just you and me,” Suggs said. “Estrello’s a greedy bastard that don’t like nobody. I think we need to get some of the boys together that he’s stomped on, and before he can get us, we cut his string.”

  “After he’s sold the whiskey and found the gold, we double-cross him,” said Irvin. “I’m not opposed to it on religious grounds, but we got the same damn trouble with some of these other varmints. Suppose we join some of these other hombres in double-crossing Estrello, and them that we’ve joined double-cross us? I wouldn’t trust Wilder as far as I can flap my arms and fly, and I’d put at least half the others in the same pile.”

  “Ah, hell, I don’t know exactly what to do,” said Irvin. “I’ve never had a true friend in my life, nobody I could count on not to let me down.”

  “Have I ever let you down?” Suggs asked.

  “It was you bully-raggin’ them damn females that got me in trouble with Estrello and Captain Jenks,” said Irvin.

  Suggs laughed. “That ain’t exactly like shootin’ you in the back. Hell, how do I know you wouldn’t double-cross me, if the pot was big enough?”

  “You don’t,” Irvin said. “You got my word, just like I got yours.”

  Chapter 7

  St. Louis. August 1, 1866.

  Fifteen miles south of the St. Louis town limits, a huge warehouse covering many acres had all its entrances secured except the one that led to the offices near the front. In a large leather-upholstered chair sat Taylor Laird. Standing before the desk was Burt Wills, Laird’s second-in-command, who engineered most of Laird’s shady deals.

  “Now just where the hell is Estrello and his bunch?” Laird wondered. “They should be here by now.”

  “Maybe they had a fallin’-out,” said Wills. “When they get here, the new whiskey’s in the kegs and waiting. It’s near the dock, under heavy guard.”

  Laird laughed. “I like that term, ‘new whiskey.’ You reckon anybody will notice that we watered the stuff down?”

  “I don’t see how,” Wills said. “It’s been strong enough to melt a horseshoe. It’ll just take more of it for a man to get owl-eyed drunk.”

  “I haven’t spoken of this before,” said Laird, “and I suppose it’s time that I did. After this, Captain Jenks, his crewmen, and his steamboats will no longer freight our whiskey to the landing at Fort Smith.”

  “I reckon they got a reason,” Wills said.

  “They think they have,” said Laird. “They think we’ve about run our course, that the law could come after us any time.”

  “Well, they’re right about that, I reckon,” Wills said, “but they’ll never make this kind of money freighting livestock, produce, and fertilizer from St. Louis to New Orleans, and from New Orleans back to St. Louis. There’s no chance of them staying on?”

  “Oh, there’s a chance,” said Laird, “but they want more money.”

  “Which you don’t intend to pay,” Wills said.

  “No,” said Laird, “I don’t.”

  “But you’re going to charge Estrello more for this whiskey than he’s ever paid. Will he stand still for that?” Wills wondered.

  “He has little choice,” said Laird. “This swill we’re selling him is bootleg. If he bought the legitimate stuff, with taxes, it wouldn’t be worth his while. I intend to tell him the cost of steamboat freighting just went up, and that we’re adding the difference to what he’s been paying.”

  Wills laughed. “He’ll go through the roof. You want me and some of the boys to ride down to the dock and wait for ‘em? Estrello will have a load of horses and mules, and if we don’t drive ’em back, his outfit will.”

  “I don’t want anybody but Estrello near this place,” said Laird. “Take nine men with you, and see that the Estrello outfit stays there at the landing until it’s time for them to board the steamboats and depart. Any horses or mules taken in trade, you can bring with you when you return.”

  “All the other details involved in the sale, you’ll handle here, then,” Wills said.

  “Yes,” said Laird. “He’ll have authorization from me. After he’s shown it to you, see that him and his outfit goes aboard those steamboats and they get the hell out of here.”

  “What about the money owed to Captain Jenks and his crews?” Wills asked.

  “You’ll be taking it with you,” said Laird. “I told Jenks the last time we negotiated I wouldn’t pay another dollar. I’d as soon not have him here.”

  “What about the horses and mules Estrello will want to trade toward the whiskey?”

  “Credit him with fifty dollars for every horse and mule he has to trade,” Laird said, “but only if he has something that can pass as a bill of sale. And whatever you do, don’t bring the animals here. They’ll have brands all over them. Drive them directly to Bundy’s place and dispose of them quickly.”

  “Fifty dollars per horse or mule?”

  “If you can get it,” said Laird. “I had a hell of a fight with Bundy. He’s wantin’ to cut us back to twenty-five.”

  “Do you aim to take the cut if he won’t go any better?”

  “Only if there’s no other way,” said Laird. “If there’s anything we don’t need, it’s being stuck with branded stock and a handful of questionable bills of sale. Begin by asking for fifty a head. Bundy won’t agree to that, so use your own judgment.”

  “I’ll round up the boys and we’ll get started,” Wills said. “They’re bound to get there this evening or sometime tonight.”

  Indian Territory. August 1, 1866.

  It was near dark when Liz Barton and Lefty Paschal reined up their horses. The wind was out of the west and brought the distinctive odor of wood smoke.

  “We might as well ride on in,” Lefty said. “We’re downwind, and they’ve heard us by now.”

  It was a sensible assumption, and Liz didn’t argue. When they were close enough to see the fire, there was nobody in sight. Then a cold voice issued a challenge.

  “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  “I’m Liz Baron, and this is Lefty Paschal. We were hoping for some supper.”

  “This ain’t no damn cafe,” the voice said, “but we’ll share what we got. Dismount, and keepin’ your hands where we can see ’em, come on to the fire.”

  Liz and Lefty obeyed the command. Within the surrounding darkness, a dozen men had been concealed. Now they stepped out into the light, their hands near the butts of their revolvers. Black Bill Warnell was the leader of the bunch, and it had been he who had challenged the newcomers. He leaned his Winchester against a pine tree and turned to face Liz and Lefty. Liz Barton found herself intimidated, but there was no help for it, and she spoke as confidently as she could. Quickly, she explained what she had in mind, and some of the outlaws laughed. Black Bill spoke.

  “You Bartons don’t learn from your mistakes, do you? Old Frank got himself and ten other gents salted down, and now you’re lookin’ for some damn fools to replace them. No, ma’am, thank you.”

  “Now that Frank’s gone,” one of the outlaws asked, “who’s segundo of the outfit?”

  “I am,” said Liz. “What of it?”

  The outlaws laughed, and there was nothing Liz Barton could do, except stand there, her face flaming red. Finally, striving to control her temper, she spoke.

  “I can out-shoot and out-ride any one of you. What I’m proposing to do is take those wagonloads of whiskey from Wolf Estrello and his outfit, but I need riders.”

  “I reckon there’s folks in hell needin’ spring water,” said Black Bill. “We know about the whiskey Estrello’s been haulin’ in, but we also know he’s got maybe forty men. Besides old Frank, how many of your boys cashed in?”

  “Too many,” Liz said, at a loss for words. “So you’re scared of Estrello’s bunch?”

  “Hell, we’re scared of anybody’s bunch, ma’am,” said Black Bill, “when they can ride through an ambush and salt down as many m
en as you lost. How many of Estrello’s bunch did your outfit gun down?”

  “I . . . I’m not sure,” Liz said.

  “None,” said Black Bill. “Two of ’em were slightly wounded. Now I got one more thing to ask you. Why in thunder did Frank attack Estrello’s bunch on their way to get the whiskey? The damn wagons was empty.”

  “Frank hated Estrello and wanted to kill as many of the outfit as he could,” Liz said. “I didn’t favor it. We don’t intend to get involved in anything from now on if there’s no money in it.”

  “Well, you got that part of it headed in the right direction,” said Black Bill. “Trouble is, if you go after Estrello’s bunch and those wagonloads of whiskey, you’ll be joining old Frank in hell, or wherever he turns up.”

  “Let’s go, Lefty,” Liz said.

  “You’re welcome to stay and eat,” said Black Bill. “We got a bottle of whiskey, and we can drink to old Frank’s memory.”

  “Damn them,” Liz gritted.

  “That fool attack that got Frank killed is gonna hurt us,” said Lefty. “If this bunch has heard of it, the others will have, too.”

  South of St. Louis, on the Mississippi. August 1, 1866.

  When the steamboats again stopped to take on wood, Estrello made his way from the Aztec to the Star. He said nothing to Captain Jenks, but sought out Amanda and Betsy. He ignored Bill and Mark when he spoke.

  “Ladies, we’ll reach St. Louis sometime tonight, and we’ll be returning to Fort Smith as soon as possible. Putting it bluntly, the two of you know where the gold is, and one way or another, you’re going to lead me to it. I prefer not to get nasty, but I can and I will if you force my hand. Are you going to cooperate?”

  Amanda and Betsy looked helplessly at Bill and Mark.

  “If you do them any harm, Estrello, you’ll do it over our dead bodies,” Mark said.

  Estrello’s laugh was an ugly sound. “That can be arranged.”

  “If we lead you to the gold,” Betsy pleaded, “will you let those of us go in peace, who are tired of this kind of life?”