“Bill!” Betsy cried.
“Help me get his shirt off,” said Mark. “He might have been hit.”
Removing his shirt, they found that had indeed been the case. While there hadn’t been much blood, a jagged piece of lead had whipped through Bill’s shirt just above the waist, leaving an ugly, jagged hole.
“I’ve just used the last of the disinfectant,” Ed said. “We’ll have to tap one of those barrels of moonshine.”
On the Aztec, Renato turned to Wilder. “We’re out of disinfectant. Should we use the whiskey?”
“Hell, no,” Estrello shouted, having overheard. “Leave that whiskey alone.”
Despite their situation, Wilder laughed. “Maybe this is God’s way of gettin’ back at you, Wolf,” Wilder said. “You’ll have to drink some of your own poison.”
Meanwhile, on the Star, they stretched Bill out on a blanket next to Vernon, Todd, and Nick. Stackler returned with a wooden bucket full of whiskey.
Mark poured some of the whiskey into Bill’s wound, and he sat up with a gasp.
“Don’t get up,” Betsy begged. “You’ve been hit.”
“I feel like I’ve also been set afire.” said Bill. “What’n hell was that?”
“Some rotgut whiskey from one of those barrels in my wagon,” Mark said, “and it can get worse. Come down with a fever, and you’ll actually have to drink some of the stuff.”
“God forbid,” said Bill, closing his eyes.
Amanda and Betsy made the rounds of the wounded outlaws on the Star. They brought a progress report.
“I saw Irvin and Suggs get it,” said Todd, “and that was almost worth takin’ a slug myself.”
“I wish I’d seen Wilder plugged but, you can’t drown a man that’s born to be hanged,” Vernon said.
“Give him some of that whiskey,” said Bill. “He’s out of his head.”
“Thanks,” Vernon said. “I’ll do something nice for you sometime.”
“I hate to bring this up,” said Carl, “but in another day or two, we’ll be back at the Fort Smith landing. How do we free ourselves from these outlaws with four of you hurt?”
“Simple enough,” said Todd. “Those of us who aren’t able to make a break for it will have to stay. Carl, you, Lee, Mark, Amanda, and Betsy will have a chance if we stick to our plan.”
“Damn the plan,” Betsy said. “I’m not leaving Bill behind.”
“Then all any of us have done to save you and Amanda will be lost,” said Bill. “Some of these outlaws will take you, having their way with you. Then, if you can show them to that hidden gold, they’ll kill you.”
“Much as I hate to admit it,” said Mark, “he’s right.”
“If Betsy stays, I stay,” Amanda said. “She’s my twin sister, and we’ve been through too much together.”
“If Amanda stays, then so do I,” said Mark. “That leaves only Carl, Lee, and Ed.”
“I’m not running out on the rest of you,” Ed replied. “I’d feel like a Judas.”
“Then it’s up to Carl and Lee,” Bill said. “We still need that telegram sent to Captain Ferguson at Fort Worth. Fort Smith is our last chance. Then it’s Indian Territory.”
“You think me and Carl won’t feel like we’ve let the rest of you down?” Lee Sullivan asked. “Maybe Estrello will wait for his wounded men to heal before taking the wagons on into the Territory. That will allow our wounded time to heal.”
“I hate to say it,” Carl said, “but unless some of us take them by surprise, making our break at Fort Smith, you all know we’re not likely to get another chance.”
“Then let me make the break,” said Ed Stackler. “One man might have a better chance than two. Soon as we’re near the landing, I’ll go over the side and into the water. There’s a chance they won’t miss me.”
“There’s also a chance they’ll cut you to ribbons with Winchesters or Sharps .50s,” Carl said. “If Lee and I run for it, one of us might make it.”
“Damn it,” said Stackler, “let’s cut the cards. The low card goes.”
“Where do we get a deck of cards?” Carl wondered.
“In Jake’s wagon, under the seat,” said Betsy. “They were Jake’s, and they’re wrapped in oilskin.”
“Shame on you, Betsy,” Amanda said. “You’re sending one of these men out to die.”
But it was the only fair thing to do, and Stackler went and brought the cards. It was he who shuffled them. Mark drew the first card, Carl the second, and Lee the third. Ed then drew the fourth card.
“Face-up time,” Ed said.
Carl dropped his card, the king of clubs. When Lee dropped his, it was the ace of diamonds. Almost reluctantly, Mark dropped his card, and it was the queen of hearts. Ed dropped his card, the four of spades.
“Damn it, Ed,” said Lee, “you stacked that deck.”
Ed laughed. “I did not. I always beat you gents at poker because you’re not that good at it. It’s settled. I’m going to make a run for it, jumping ship before any of these steamboats has a chance to dock. If I make it to Fort Smith alive, maybe I can get a telegram off to Captain Ferguson in Fort Worth in time to free the rest of you.”
“It’s a long-shot chance,” said Mark. “How far are we from Estrello’s old camp on the Washita?”
“About two hundred and fifty miles,” Carl said.
“With loaded wagons, even if there’s no trouble, that’s twelve to fifteen days,” said Ed. “Ferguson and a company of soldiers could walk from Fort Worth in that amount of time. Depending on how serious Captain Ferguson takes that telegram, it’s our only way out.”
“Ferguson won’t let us down,” Bill said. “According to my count, it’s been thirty-six days since we left Fort Worth. I think Captain Ferguson will be looking for something that will tell him we’re alive and successful, or that we’ve failed and are dead.”
“That’s my impression of Captain Ferguson, too,” said Mark. “That’s why it’s important that we complete this mission. Captain Ferguson trusted us when all we had to look forward to was a rope or the firing squad.”
“The wounded will give me a slight edge when it’s time to make a break,” Ed said. “They may not be so quick to grab their Colts, and those arm and shoulder wounds will limit their use of Winchesters.”
Estrello’s outfit on the Aztec was a surly lot, as those who hadn’t been wounded were forced to tend to their comrades who had been less fortunate.
“Hell, I ain’t no doctor,” said Franklin Schorp.
“Me, neither,” Renato said.
“You got no choice,” said Wilder, “same as I don’t. Do the best you can, so the wounds don’t get infected. Somebody tap another one of those kegs and bring me some more whiskey.”
“You’ll have to get it yourself,” Schorp said. “The rest of us got our hands full.”
Finally, all of the wounded Estrello gang, including Estrello, had their wounds taken care of, and the upper deck of the steamboat looked like a battlefield. Captain Savage was no longer being watched, for the few men who hadn’t been wounded were exhausted from the August heat and tending their wounded comrades. When the sun sank below the western horizon and twilight approached, there was a cooling wind out of the west.
“Here’s where we leave the Mississippi for the Arkansas,” said Carl, watching from the deck of the Star. “There’ll be one more wood stop before we get to the Fort Smith landing.”
“I might be able to escape during the wood stop,” Ed said, “but it’s a long way back to Little Rock, and even farther to Fort Smith, without a horse.”
“I hate it, you having to go afoot,” said Mark. “I feel like that’s the responsibility of Bill or me, since we made the agreement with Captain Ferguson.”
“I don’t see it that way,” Ed said. “The deal for amnesty includes me, and I don’t expect something for nothing.”
“I don’t think any of us will be getting it for nothing,” said Lee, “and I don’t fault anybody for tha
t. I joined Estrello’s outfit because I had a price on my head and nowhere to run.”
“Same as the rest of us,” Carl said. “Somehow, it didn’t seem all that bad, right at the first. We were selling whiskey, and the Indians were buying. I couldn’t see it coming to this, some of you lying wounded on a steamboat, while we choose one man to risk his neck trying to break loose to bring help.”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Ed. “I’ve done more than my share of fool things, with a lot less to be gained.”
A hundred and thirty miles east of Fort Smith, the steamboats again stopped to take on fuel. Wilder, Schorp, and Renato stood watch with Winchesters to be certain that nobody left the Star except the crew for the loading of wood. Men left steamboats two, three, and four stretching their legs.
“What about us?” shouted Stackler.
Wilder looked at him like he was sizing up a deer.
“We’re gonna’have us a little change.”
“What?!” cried Amanda and Betsy in unison.
“We need to even up the men on the boats,” Wilder said, grinning.
Mark stepped up. “If you’re talking about me and Bill, here, the women are stayin’ with us.”
Silence fell across the boat as Wilder rubbed his jaw where Mark had hit him earlier. Every heart held still as both men stared at each other, their hands slowly sliding towards their weapons.
Bill groaned. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to break the spell.
“All of you get on over to the Aztec,” growled Wilder.
“And the women?” Demanded Mark.
“I said ‘all of you,’ didn’t I? And the wounded, too. We want to keep all the casualties in one place.”
“All those they’re suspicious of, is more like it,” muttered Sullivan.
“Oh Lord,” said Betsy, “I thought that was gonna be it.”
Stackler helped to lift Bill. “Guess we’re all in the same boat now.”
With enough wood to see them the rest of the way to the Fort Smith landing, the four steamboats again moved out. But they were unable to travel at top speed because of the occasional sandbars around which they had to maneuver. In places, the river was shallow, and care had to be taken to keep the steamboats in deep water.
“Time for some whiskey,” said Mark. “Bill’s running a fever. Vernon and Todd won’t be far behind.”
“I reckon I got off easy, just gettin’ my skull creased,” Nick said. “I don’t envy the others, having to drink that God-awful whiskey.”
Within the hour, Vernon and Todd were running fevers, and they had to be given large doses of the terrible whiskey. The night wore on, and at dawn there was only jerked beef for those able to eat. Bill, Vernon, and Todd were sick from the whiskey, although it had served its purpose and eliminated the high fever. The other outlaws on the Aztec had fared no better. McLean and McCarty threw up on deck, while the others moaned in fitful, restless sleep.
“What we gonna do when we get to Fort Smith?” Renato asked Wilder. “Men are sick, and there is no room for them in the wagons.”
“I ain’t decided yet,” said Wilder. “Maybe we’ll get into the Territory a ways and just lay over there until the wounded are healed enough to ride.”
Irvin was awake. “You aim to go lookin’ for that stolen gold old Jake had?”
“Damn right I do,” Wilder said. “Them women know where it is.”
“Whiskey running is shot to hell,” said Schorp. “What will we do, once we sell this whiskey and find the missing gold?”
“I’m taking my share of the loot and going where the law can’t touch me,” Wilder said. “Maybe Mexico.”
“Only three men on this boat to concern us,” said Lee Sullivan. “Ed, when you make your break, we can gun down Wilder, Schorp, and Renato.”
“No,” Stackler said. “Kill them, and the rest of Estrello’s outfit will kill you. There’s no point in me going for help if the rest of you are dead before it gets here.”
“We’ll be reaching the landing at Fort Smith late tonight,” Sullivan said, “but not before moonrise. We can still pull a gun on the good captain and have him run this steamboat aground somewhere shy of the landing.”
“No,” said Stackler. “We’ll have to scrap that part of our original plan. Forcing a stop shy of the landing will alert everybody on the other three steamboats that we’re up to something, and the moonlight will make me a good target in the water.”
As the day wore on, the rest of the wounded outlaws on the Aztec slept off their fevers and awoke.
“Wilder,” said Suggs, “we was supposed to gun down the captains and their crews at the Fort Smith landing. Are we still aimin’ to?”
“Not on this steamboat,” Wilder replied. “There’s just three of us that ain’t been hurt and are trustworthy, and we can’t spare anybody to go after the captain. Those on the other boats can do as they please, but this steamboat needs its crewmen.”
“There’s Long, Sullivan, Stackler, and Rogers, besides the two women,” said Irvin, “and they’re all still armed.”
“They joined us in the fight against the Taylor Laird gang,” Wilder said. “We’ll reward them by letting them live until we find that gold them women buried.”
“We’re near two weeks’ away from the Washita,” said Suggs. “What if we just split the money and the gold we got, and them wantin’ to hunt Jake’s gold can do it, while the rest of us just go our way?”
“You’re crazy as hell,” Irvin shouted. “After all we been through, I aim to get my share when this rotgut whiskey’s sold, and I can’t do that if we split up now.”
“Nobody’s leaving,” said Estrello, who had awakened, “and as for that hidden gold, we leave it be until the whiskey’s been sold.”
“Wolf’s right about sticking together,” Wilder said. “We may need the guns of every man of us. Suppose them hundreds of whiskey-drinking Indians was to decide to just take the whiskey, instead of buyin’ it?”
For a change, Estrello and Wilder had agreed on something, and the rest of the outlaws nodded their approval. Vivid in their minds were tales of white men who had gone into Indian Territory without protection and were never seen again.
The August sun bore down with a vengeance, and not a breeze stirred. The wounded men, some without shirts and others without trousers, sweated. The bad whiskey had done its job, for nobody had any fever.
“Wolf,” said Brice, “you think this is the end of whiskey running into Indian Territory?”
“As far as I’m concerned it is,” Estrello said. “You saw the New Orleans take on the survivors from Laird’s steamboat, and there are witnesses to the sinking. All it’ll take is for just one man to talk. Taylor Laird built an empire, but without him it’s as dead as he is.”
“It was you that gunned him down,” said Wilder. “Maybe you should have given it a little more thought. It’ll be hell finding bootleg whiskey now.”
“I gave it some thought,” Estrello said. “Laird had just raised the price on whiskey, and I couldn’t see us taking all the risk while he took none, at a higher price. I had no idea there was money in the safe until Laird was dead. What else do you do with a gent you don’t need anymore, except get rid of him? If I’d left him alive, he’d have followed us all to hell and come in after us.”
“I can’t argue with that,” said Wilder, “but there’s somethin’ you’d better keep in mind where these whiskey-drinking Indians are concerned. One word to any of them about this bein’ the last of the whiskey, and they won’t need us anymore. There’ll be enough of them to just take this load of whiskey, along with our scalps.”
“Hell’s fire,” Estrello shouted, “how big a fool do you think I am?”
“I’m not sure,” said Wilder with an evil grin. “You continue to amaze me.”
“This whiskey didn’t cost us nothin’,” Renato said. “We sellin’ it to the Indians at the old price, or will we ask for more money?”
“Keepin’ in mind
what Wilder just said about our scalps,” said Estrello, “I think we’ll have to sell to them at the old price.”
“Hell, I don’t,” Irvin said. “This is our last haul, and I’m for milkin’ it dry. I’m for doubling the price.”
There was an uproar as the outlaws agreed or disagreed.
“By God,” Suggs shouted, “let’s vote on it.”
“We’re not votin’ on it because we ain’traisin’ the price,” said Estrello.
All eyes turned to Wilder, and his response surprised them. “Wolf and me have had our differences, but this time, we fully agree. I reckon some of you don’t value your scalps all that much. Let a bunch of likkered-up Indians get a mad on, and we’re all dead men.”
There was some grumbling among several of the outlaws who didn’t like the decision to sell the whiskey at the old price, but they soon became silent, for Estrello and Wilder were both looking at them in a way that made them uneasy.
Now on board the Aztec, Bill, Betsy, Mark, Amanda and their companions waited uneasily as the outlaws argued over raising the price of whiskey.
“The greedy varmints,” said Vernon. “That rotgut didn’t cost them a cent, and some of them want to double the price to the Indians.”
“Thank God Estrello and Wilder ain’t as stupid as some of the others,” Carl said. “There’s a chance we’ll be stuck with this bunch until they unload this whiskey, and those Indians won’t draw any lines between us and the rest of Estrello’s outfit.”
The day wore on, and as they approached the final landing near Fort Smith, the stars had been sprinkled over the purple of the sky. It would be dark soon.
Ralph Compton Whiskey River Page 16
