Ralph Compton Whiskey River

by Compton, Ralph

  “Why shouldn’t I?” asked Estrello. “Neither of you can implicate me. It’ll be your word against mine. Now I want some general idea as to where we’ll be going.”

  “No,” Amanda said. “We’ll tell you when we return to the Washita.”

  “You’ll tell me now,” said Estrello ominously.

  Irvin and Suggs, sensing trouble, leaned against the pilothouse within gun range. Their thumbs were hooked in their belts near the butts of their Colts. Estrello was in the position of having them in a crossfire if he chose.

  “Go ahead and tell him the general area, Amanda,” Mark said. “Nothing specific.”

  “It’s within twenty-five miles of the Washita,” Amanda said, “and that’s all you’ll be told until we return there.”

  “Very well,” said Estrello, “I shall count on that. I trust neither of you will forget the penalty for lying to me, or attempting to double-cross me.”

  “There’ll be a considerable penalty if you pull any tricks on us,” Bill warned.

  “I said the ladies are free to go, once I know where the gold is,” said Estrello. “I’m not including anybody else in the deal.”

  “You lie,” Betsy shouted. “Amanda wasn’t asking for freedom for just the two of us, and you know it.”

  Estrello laughed. “So you have friends who wish to forsake me and ride with you. I’ll assure you I have a reasonably good idea as to who they are, and when the time comes, I will deal directly with them.”

  He said no more, but made his way down the ramp, past the sweating men who were bringing wood aboard the steamboat. Amanda and Betsy stood there, clenching their fists and gritting their teeth. Irvin and Suggs grinned, aggravating Amanda and Betsy all the more.

  “Come on,” Mark said, “and let’s get away from here, I don’t like the smell.”

  They walked to the far end of the deck. The six men they had come to think of as their friends were all there, and they looked grim.

  “Bad news, I reckon,” said Ed Stackler.

  “The worst,” Mark replied. “He’s agreed to free Amanda and Betsy if they’ll lead him to the gold. That gives us a pretty good idea what he has in mind for the rest of us.”

  “I’m not taking him anywhere,” said Betsy. “Once he has his hands on the gold, he’ll kill Amanda and me. I just know it.”

  “I think so, too,” Amanda said, “but when the whiskey’s unloaded at Fort Smith, we’ll still be nearly three hundred miles from our old camp on the Washita. We’ll have a little more time to perhaps think of some way out.”

  “The more I think about it,” said Nick Ursino, “the more certain I am that we’ll have to shoot our way out.”

  “I think you’re right,” Vernon Clemans said, “but there’s so many of these varmints I’d like to ventilate, I won’t know where to start.”

  “We’ve got to do better than that,” said Ed. “In a stand-up fight with all these gun-throwers, we don’t have a prayer.”

  “Ed’s right,” Mark said. “We’d be gunned down before any of us even got off a shot at Estrello, and when you’re fighting for your life, you don’t sell out cheap. We’re in need of a plan, a possible means of escape.”

  “Then, damn it, let’s come up with one,” said Bill. “Do they always time their return to Fort Smith after dark, unloading the whiskey before dawn?”

  “They always have before,” Todd Keithley said, “and I can’t think of any reason why they won’t do it the same way, this time.”

  “I don’t believe Estrello will come after any of us until we’re well away from the river and Fort Smith,” said Carl Long. “Sound carries at night, and it’s not more than six or seven miles to Fort Smith, cross-country.”

  “That’s a good argument for making our move before the whiskey’s been unloaded from the wagons,” Lee Sullivan said.

  “We could make our move at the wood stop between Little Rock and Fort Smith,” said Vernon, “but I expect the price would be more than we want to pay.”

  “You know it would,” Mark said. “Before those ramps are let down to bring the wood aboard, Estrello has two men on deck, armed with Winchesters. He can have two dozen more after us within minutes. Our only chance is to get the hell off this steamboat and out of gun range before they realize we’ve made our break.”

  “That brings us back to a possibility we’ve already rejected,” Ed said. “If we take them by surprise, we’ll have to run this steamboat aground. In the dark, without any running lights, the bunch on the other three steamboats won’t notice if we slow down and fall a little behind.”

  “We rejected it before,” said Bill, “and now it’s one of the few possibilities any of us have of getting out of this alive. I think we’d better consider it again. The big rocks in the road will be Captain Jenks and his firemen. Are we prepared to kill them all?”

  “All we need of the captain is to have him run this steamboat aground,” Mark said, “and if he’s not smart enough to figure out what Estrello has in mind for him, I believe he’ll become a lot more agreeable with a cocked pistol at his head. The same goes for his firemen.”

  “That’s gospel,” said Vernon. “Even if we were that murderous, we can’t afford having those on the other steamboats hear the shots.”

  “There are the horses,” Betsy said. “What about them?”

  “We’ll have to decide if they’re worth the risk,” said Todd. “I doubt Estrello would send his bunch after us afoot, and while they’re saddling up, that would gain us a little time.”

  “We could saddle our horses ahead of time,” Amanda said, “and have them ready.”

  “Much as I hate bein’ afoot. I’d have to say no to that,” said Todd. “We can’t afford to wait until we reach the dock when all four steamboats come together. Should we take over this steamboat, we’ll have to ground it at some unlikely place. There won’t be time or opportunity to set up the ramp for the horses. We’ll have to go over the side and run for it.”

  “It’s starting to sound more and more like our only hope,” Nick said. “A lot depends on the time of night we make a run for it. We’ll have to reach Fort Smith before dawn, and we may still have a fight on our hands. There’s bound to be a lawman, but he won’t be of any help to us against all that bunch ridin’ with Estrello.”

  “Maybe there are soldiers garrisoned at Fort Smith,” Ed said.

  “Maybe,” Mark said, “but up against Estrello’s gang, they might be as outnumbered as we are. Anyway, I doubt we could get any help from them in a hurry. At best, they might telegraph Captain Ferguson at Fort Worth before lifting a hand.”

  “So we’re going to run for it on foot,” said Betsy, “and even if we reach the town, we can’t depend on anybody to help us. Even if we escape in the dark, Estrello may just wait until dawn and begin the search all over again.”

  “He damned well might,” Bill agreed. “They can unload the wagons and the whiskey while they wait for daylight.”

  “There’s no perfect way of doing this,” said Mark. “I believe we can successfully get off this steamboat and into the woods, but from there on, we’ll be taking our chances. It will depend almost entirely on what Estrello decides to do.”

  “He’ll come looking for Betsy and me,” Amanda said. “He’s promised to find and share that gold with his outfit, and if he fails, they’ll turn on him.”

  “I think she’s right,” said Nick. “When Amanda and Betsy were lost in the river, Estrello just went crazy. Not because he cared a damn for either of them, but because they know where the gold is hidden. Estrello will have them looking for us in the dark.”

  “We do have a bit of an edge,” Vernon said. “A man on a horse is easier to see than a man on foot. Maybe we can even the odds some.”

  “Each time you fire in the dark,” said Ed, “your muzzle flash makes a good target. We’ll have to do more hiding than shooting. Let’s let Estrello’s bunch spend the night looking for us while we make our way to Fort Smith. We don’t know
what we’ll be facing there, but we’ll be among other people, and Estrello will hate that.”

  “Bueno, ” Mark said. “One of us may still reach the telegraph office.”

  “But if there are no fighting men to help us at Fort Smith,” Carl Long said, “there’ll be no time for the post commander at Fort Worth to send help. They’re too far away, and we have too little time.”

  “Amanda,” said Mark, “you told Estrello that gold is within twenty-five miles of the Washita. Is it?”

  “No,” Amanda said. “Betsy and me told him that so he’ll have to return to the old camp on the Washita. With loaded wagons, that’s almost a week from Fort Smith, and we thought it might allow us a little more time to come up with a plan of our own.”

  “Excellent,” said Ed, “but suppose the worst happens? Suppose we’re unable to free ourselves, and you have to go on to the Washita with Estrello? He may shoot both of you for lying to him.”

  “Whoa,” Mark said. “This talk about returning to the Washita just gave me an idea. If just one of us can reach the telegraph in Fort Worth, we can have a company of soldiers waiting for Estrello when he gets there.”

  “That can be done,” said Bill. “Men on horseback can easily ride from Fort Worth to the Washita, well ahead of Estrello’s loaded wagons. Captain Ferguson can have enough men there to wipe out Estrello’s bunch.”

  “Once we break loose—granted that we do—” Ed Stackler said, “there are two things we must do. We must avoid being captured or shot, and we must get that telegram on its way to Fort Worth.”

  “Risky from start to finish,” said Lee Sullivan, “but it’s something definite that has a chance to succeed.”

  At least it was a plan, and their sagging spirits were lifted a little.

  St. Louis. August 2, 1866.

  Burt Wills had nine men waiting at the landing when the four steamboats arrived. The sun was still two hours high, about enough time for Wills and his men to conceal the mules and horses Estrello had brought for trade. He didn’t like Estrello, and it left a bad taste in his mouth when he remembered what Taylor Laird had told him. He would have to negotiate with Estrello over the value of the livestock, giving the outlaw credit for what he owed for the whiskey. The ramps had been put in place, and even then men were leading the extra horses and mules off the steamboats. Estrello looked around, apparently for Taylor Laird, finally fixing his eyes on Burt Wills. He approached Wills with a question that was blunt.

  “Where’s Laird?”

  “You’re riding upriver to see him this time,” said Wills.

  “Oh?” Estrello said. “Why?”

  “Prices are goin’ up,” said Wills, “but not on branded mules and horses. We’re lowering that to twenty-five.”

  “Like hell you are,” Estrello shouted. “So he wants to see me, does he?”

  Wills watched as Estrello flung a saddle on the first horse he came to. He spoke to one of his men and was brought a mule on a lead rope with packsaddle. Estrello shouted to one of his men who had remained on the upper deck of the first steamboat. The man disappeared, and a few minutes later, left the steamboat. He carried a heavy burlap sack, which he secured with rawhide thongs to the packsaddle. That, Wills knew, would be the gold with which Estrello would pay for the whiskey. Wills joined his nine men, gathering the horses and mules Estrello had brought for trade.

  “Fifteen mules and seventeen horses,” Wills shouted after a count.

  Estrello said nothing. Leading the pack mule, he reined up where only Drew Wilder could hear what he had to say.

  “I want all that whiskey in the wagons and on those steamboats before dark,” Estrello said. “I’m going after our money, and then we’re movin’ out.”

  “There he goes,” said Mark, “and there goes our chance to learn where he’s getting the whiskey.”

  “Captain Ferguson didn’t tell us we have to go that far,” Bill said. “He wants us to help bust up the gang. We’ll be damn fortunate if we can do that and come out alive.”

  “So Estrello goes alone to settle for the whiskey,” said Mark. “Has he always done it that way?”

  “Every time I’ve been with him,” Ed said. “The varmint sellin’ that slop would sell to anybody who can pay, and Estrello’s always taken care to see that none of us has any idea as to who supplies him the rotgut.”

  “I’ve been with him from the first,” said Vernon, “and the rest of us are left here to load the whiskey on the steamboats, while Estrello goes somewhere to pay for the stuff.”

  Estrello was barely out of sight, when Wilder began giving orders.

  “All you teamsters bring the wagons off the boats, and be quick about it.”

  “Notice the Estrello men with Winchesters,” said Todd. “Ten to one they’ve been ordered to shoot us if we so much as look like we intend to run for it.”

  With Winchesters were Wilder, Suggs, Irvin, DeWitt, Bideno, and Jabez.

  “Come on, Bill,” Mark said. “We might as well harness the teams and get the wagons down here.”

  Once the wagons were off the steamboats. Wilder took charge of getting all the barrels loaded. They were heavy and difficult to handle, and it required three men to lift one into a wagon. Once there, it had to be slid forward to make room for others that would follow. The men from the Star—except for Irvin and Suggs—had to load the two wagons that Bill and Mark had driven from the steamboat. The men armed with Winchesters did nothing, except to curse the weary laborers who paused to wipe the sweat from their eyes. Amanda and Betsy watched as the outlaws with Winchesters shouted at the men who were moving the heavy barrels. When Mark’s wagon had been loaded, the six comrades from steamboat four started loading Bill’s wagon.

  “My God,” Bill groaned, “my back will never be the same.”

  “Well, don’t be in too damn big a hurry,” said Ed. “If we finish first, we’ll be told to help the others. Wilder would like that.”

  Finally the back-breaking ordeal was over, and the wagons were driven to the steamboat from which they had been taken for loading.

  Wolf Estrello reached the huge headquarters of Taylor Laird and was elated to find only one horse standing in the shade of an oak. Of late, Laird had seen to it that most of his men were occupied elsewhere when he was expecting Estrello. Conducting all of their business after dark, Laird made sure that few of his men ever saw Estrello, or knew the purpose of his visits. Estrello tied his horse and the pack mule to a hitching rail. Taking the heavy sack from the pack mule, he made his way toward the entrance. Suddenly, the door opened.

  “You took long enough. You should have been here last night,” Laird said.

  “No business of yours,” said Estrello, “long as you get your money.”

  “The damn whiskey was at the dock yesterday,” Laird said, “and I had to pay extra, hiring men to stand watch over it.”

  “Well,” said Estrello, “are we goin’ inside, or do you aim to stand out here and bitch my time away?”

  “Come on in, damn it,” Laird growled. “I want to settle this thing, so you and your outfit can go. Last time you were here, the captain on a commercial steamer coming from St. Louis reported your four steamboats without running lights.”

  Estrello laughed. “Your concern is touching, Laird.”

  “Concern, hell,” Laird snorted. “I don’t personally give a damn if you and every man in your outfit is caught and strung up. I just don’t want any incident involving you and your scruffy bunch to suck me in.”

  Laird took a seat in the big leather chair behind his desk. He didn’t invite Estrello to sit, and the outlaw stood there waiting.

  Finally, Laird spoke. “Like I told you last time, the brew’s gone up twenty-five dollars a barrel. I trust you have come prepared to pay the increase?”

  “I have,” said Estrello. “There’s twenty horses and twenty-two mules.”

  Laird laughed, for Estrello always gave him false figures. But from now on, it wouldn’t matter, at the lower
prices.

  “Twenty-five dollars a head,” said Laird. “No more.”

  “I’ll accept that,” Estrello said, suddenly agreeable. His hard eyes were on the big safe behind Laird’s desk. It stood partially open.

  “Empty the sack on the desk,” said Laird. “I trust you won’t be insulted if I count it.”

  Laird’s greedy eyes were on the gold, and he failed to see Estrello’s right hand drop to the butt of his Colt. Estrello fired three times, and the lifeless body of Taylor Laird struck the wall and slid down to the floor.

  Chapter 8

  Taylor Laird’s body was sprawled before the big safe, his big leather-upholstered chair lying partially on him. Estrello dragged the chair away, and then, seizing Laird by the feet, he dragged the body out of his way. He then knelt before the big iron safe, swinging the door open. He caught his breath when he beheld the contents. There were bundles of currency, each bundle neatly tied with string, and the safe was packed full. In his excitement, Estrello dragged most of it out on the floor, finding that apparently all the bills were of hundred-dollar denominations. This was no time to count it, but Estrello had an eye for such things, and he figured there was thousands of dollars—perhaps hundreds of thousands—within the safe. His heart raced like a galloping horse as he pondered his next move. Possibilities boggled his mind, and he could see himself somewhere in Mexico or South America, living like a king.

  But Estrello couldn’t afford the luxury of dreaming. He must have another sack for all the currency, and he began looking for one. In one office after another he dragged out desk drawers and rummaged through closets. Eventually, he found a suitable burlap bag, and its contents were heavy. Estrello upended the bag, dumping everything on the floor. There was a massive amount of old gun parts, including cylinders, triggers, frames, and walnut grips. Estrello took the now empty bag and hurried back to Laird’s office. Quickly, he looked out the window, but all he saw was Laird’s horse and his own horse and mule. Kneeling before the safe, he began stuffing bundles of currency into the sack. There was barely room for it all, and seizing a ball of heavy twine from Laird’s desk, Estrello had a difficult time tying the neck of the sack. He then returned the gold he had brought to the other sack, and found he was unable to carry the gold and the currency at the same time. He took the sack of gold to the pack horse, and hurriedly lashed the heavy bag to one side of the packsaddle. He then returned for the currency and thonged the bag to the other side of the packsaddle.