For that matter, Emmett wondered how he would do. An image of Gabriela in Victorio Sanchez’s clutches darted through his mind. He still hadn’t recovered the confidence he lost that day. Of course if it came down to shooting today, he and his amigos would be lucky if any of them got away alive, no matter how great his skill with the Colt.
A sudden awareness that someone was trailing them drew Emmett out of his musings. He peered over his shoulder. There they were—a pair of them. Hired guns, no doubt. They had the look.
“Got company,” he murmured to his compadres.
The others glanced back discreetly.
They hadn’t gone a quarter mile farther when Juanito said, “Two more on the other side.”
The same sort, Emmett thought. A little bolder. No apologies for shadowing us.
By the time Reno was in sight, a welcome party of eight mounted gunslicks boxed in Emmett, Juanito, Sikes, and Yong.
Emmett signaled to his friends and reined in. Though his heart drummed like mad, he was determined to exude nothing but cool confidence.
He deliberately drew a long, deep breath while he sized up each of the approaching riders. Once they were within a mere thirty yards he flicked his spurs and loped straight for the one who looked to be the boss. Pulling up close, he locked eyes with his opponent.
“I’ve got a proposal for Seth Blaylock,” he said. “Seth’s brother, Charlie, would appreciate it if you’d give us safe conduct to his place.”
The man’s upper lip twitched. “It’s Mr. McIntosh you’ll have to talk to,” he said, his voice like gravel. “You don’t talk to Seth Blaylock or anyone else in Reno till Mr. McIntosh says so.”
Emmett arched an eyebrow. “If it’s McIntosh that holds Seth Blaylock’s lead rope, then sure—I’ll talk to McIntosh.”
The hand snickered. “All right. You’re safe until you see Mr. McIntosh. Can’t guarantee nothin’ after that.”
Emmett nodded toward Reno. “Shall we then?”
Lucian McIntosh’s house was palatial—a two-and-a-half-story San Francisco–style place with a turret at one corner and dormer windows up top. Armed men waited on either side of the front gate, here and there around the yard, and up on the broad veranda. Emmett didn’t know exactly why, but it rattled him for a moment that McIntosh was so obviously expecting him.
They had hardly cleared the front gate when an imposing fellow—had to be the big boss himself—stepped out onto the porch, Seth Blaylock at his elbow. Both men glared silently at Emmett and his friends.
Smug hulk of a man, Emmett thought, taking quick note of McIntosh’s fine black suit, stiff white shirt, and broad burgundy tie, but above all noticing the contempt between his jowls. The man looked for all the world as though he’d been weaned on a green persimmon. And Blaylock—the dandy. An Arkansas toothpick trying to pass himself off as a Renaissance-era stiletto.
“You four, get on down outta your saddles,” the gravel-voiced escort said.
Emmett glanced at Yong. His Chinese friend appeared to be holding up remarkably well. His eyes were fixed unwaveringly on his daughter’s abductor. Emmett knew Juanito and Sikes would be all right.
“Won’t be staying long enough to bother,” Emmett said, his gaze returning to McIntosh and Blaylock rather than to the gunman who had spoken. “Not on this visit anyway.”
A bushy-mustached fellow on the porch raised his rifle just a hair and said, “You come ridin’ in here to Mr. McIntosh’s place, you pay proper respect, you hear? He wants you to get down, you get down. Else this meetin’s over before it starts.”
Having discussed the plan beforehand, none of the four budged.
All was silent for several seconds, men from each side sizing one another up. It was a tinderbox of a situation—one wrong move and there’d be a flash and a blaze.
Emmett finally spoke. “Seth Blaylock, are you interested in hearing what I’ve come to say?”
Seth glared coldly but didn’t answer. After a moment, he glanced at his boss.
When McIntosh shifted his weight, the porch’s plank flooring creaked. “You Texans have caused a hell of a lot of trouble,” he said, his voice level. “I oughta shoot the lot of you here and now.” His gaze ran across the four of them. “Charlie Blaylock supposedly killed your brother—”
Emmett interrupted. “Matter of fact, he did kill my brother. He was right in front of me when he did it.”
McIntosh snapped back, “Interrupt me again and you’ll be joinin’ your brother.”
Emmett leaned forward in his saddle, his hand on his thigh near his Colt.
McIntosh stepped to the front edge of the porch. “If you wanted to beef your brother’s killer, you should’ve done the job back in Texas. And if you weren’t skilled enough to take care of business there, you should’ve ended your chase at the Texas state line.” He glowered at Yong Xu, then looked back at Emmett. “But no. Night before last you and your slant-eyed friends went and killed my brother.”
Momentary panic jolted through Emmett’s core. What? This could change the game completely. McIntosh’s stake in this whole affair was personal now, not just business. He gathered his courage. “Until this very minute, I had no idea your brother was even out there.”
McIntosh curled his lip and pointed a finger. “You should’ve kept it between you and Charlie Blaylock. Not only did you fail to do that, not only did you shoot my brother dead—for which I oughta drop you right now—but you also shot Seth Blaylock’s woman. Could’ve killed her too—a woman.”
Emmett’s mind raced. Wait. What woman did we shoot? Seth’s the one that shot a woman. In fact, two women—Yan back in Virginia City and Guiying in the brush near the arroyo.
Then he recalled the scream he’d heard in that same thicket when he hit the second kidnapper. So that was Seth’s woman.
Recovering, Emmett said, “Nobody was gunning for her or for your brother. Not the way Charlie Blaylock was gunning for mine. Your brother made a bad choice. Rode out into the night to help a gang of kidnappers haul away a bunch of innocent girls—other men’s daughters, no matter what their color.”
McIntosh visibly reddened. “Shut up, dammit! You shut up! You and them damn Chinese declared war on my men…on my family.”
Now Emmett jabbed his bandaged hand toward McIntosh. “You’ve got the chronology and the blame all wrong. Seth Blaylock here—who works for you—declared war on the Chinese folk in Virginia City when he kidnapped six of their daughters…after shooting another one.”
As McIntosh stood there gnashing his teeth and fuming, Seth spoke up. While his tone was cold, it was clear that he too was smoldering. “Our business up here has nothin’ to do with you, Texan. It’s betw—”
McIntosh put up a hand. He said to Emmett, “No more back and forth on this. Your business in Nevada all started with Charlie Blaylock. As I understand it, you’ve already got him. I believe it’s time for you to take your fugitive and go home to Texas.”
Emmett fixed his gaze on Seth. “I’ll ask you again, Blaylock. You want your brother back?”
Seth shrugged. “I’ll get him back…before you ever leave Nevada.”
“You want him back alive?”
“You threatenin’?”
“I’m offering.”
McIntosh snorted. “Offering what?”
“You get Charlie alive. We get the two remaining Chinese girls. Alive and well.”
The windmill above the water tank clattered.
McIntosh scowled. “This is my offer, take it or leave it: You come back here by tomorrow noon with Charlie Blaylock unharmed, and I’ll give you them two damned China girls…unharmed. Then you get the hell out of Nevada. And I’d better never see your faces again.”
Emmett shot a glance at his pardners before returning his gaze to the big boss. “Not here,” he said. “A neutral spot.”
McIntosh looked right and left at the gunslicks scattered around the yard, then returned to glaring at Emmett. “Just where do you suggest then?”
“Open ground. Same place where your wagons got stranded on the back road.”
“Like hell!” McIntosh bellowed. “Same place where you gunned down my brother? To hell with that.”
“It’ll serve as a reminder that we don’t need any more bloodshed.”
“So you say. Meanwhile, you can pick off more of my men with that damn buffalo gun. No.”
Emmett’s gaze drifted from one hired gun to another. “Your men stay hidden. It only takes one man to deliver those two girls.” He nodded toward Seth. “And it only takes me to deliver Charlie Blaylock. Each side does what they’re supposed to, and there’s no need to spill another drop of blood. We say adios and part ways.”
He remained motionless in the saddle, his hand still close to his holster.
As he stared down the glowering McIntosh, he was dead certain that Li Xu was locked up less than fifty feet away, somewhere in that big house. He wished he could take her home today, but surrounded by so many of the big man’s gunslicks, he was doing well to negotiate what he already had.
“Noon tomorrow then,” McIntosh said, head cocked and brows furrowed. “Unarmed…and that’s not up for discussion.”
Emmett nodded. “Unarmed is even better.”
McIntosh stared at Emmett, then at Juanito. He spent several long seconds glaring at Yong Xu. Then, with only a quick glance at Sikes, he turned his back and lumbered toward the front door.
At the last second, he stopped and pivoted. “Your name’s Strong, right?”
“That’s right. Emmett Strong.”
“Charlie Blaylock said you’ve got a reputation. Some kind of pistolero. Was he right?”
Emmett shrugged.
“Don’t matter anyway. You so much as think about double-crossin’ me, Mr. Pistolero, and I’ll be right behind you all the way back to the Rio Grande. And don’t kid yourself. I’ve got at least a dozen men as quick and deadly as you.”
Emmett looked over the McIntosh men, pausing a moment to meet Seth’s glare. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he said. “Double-crossing’s not my style.”
He touched the brim of his hat. Then he and his compadres wheeled their horses and rode out the front gate at an easy jog.
It took all the self-restraint Emmett could muster to leave without demanding proof that Li Xu and Ping were OK. But he wasn’t convinced Yong could handle it. A scene might’ve led to shooting. And the odds definitely weren’t in their favor. Not today.
“Soon now, Yong,” he said as they picked up speed. “We’ll see her tomorrow.”
His expression blank, Yong nodded and tapped his horse’s flanks.
As soon as Emmett and his friends had cleared his front gate, McIntosh led Seth inside and closed the door behind them.
“Get the men goin’—the best we’ve got. The best of Thaddeus’s boys too—those that’re still alive. Emmett Strong does not live to see tomorrow night. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And he dies empty-handed. You get your brother back. I get the China girls back.”
Seth looked his boss in the eye. “I’ll see to it. Strong’ll never make it back to Virginia City—with or without the girls. I don’t care if he brings a hundred of them Chinese bastards fully armed.”
“Speakin’ of armed,” McIntosh said, “I know I told Strong the exchange was to be made with you and him both unheeled. You understand I never intended for you to abide by that?”
“Wasn’t thinkin’ of it.”
McIntosh gave a sharp nod. “And then after the bushwhackin’, you go on down to Carson City. Spend some time with Ettie. Bad enough we lost Thaddeus. I can’t stand that we almost lost her too.”
“Thank you, sir.” Seth was anxious to get back to Ettie, to see her through her recovery.
“You know she’s almost like a daughter to me,” the big man said.
“I’ll take good care of her, sir.”
McIntosh stood gazing up the stairs. “Tomorrow we’ll make Emmett Strong pay the bill. With interest.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
A good mile out from McIntosh’s place, Juanito reined his dun around to face the others.
Emmett frowned at his stern expression. “What’s on your mind?”
“Don’t you feel it?” Juanito glanced back toward Reno, then up the ridge to the east. “McIntosh’s men were waiting for us on the way in. It feels like somebody’s watching us now.”
Emmett scanned the surrounding high ground. “What if they are?”
“You know what could happen if they find out where we’re holding Charlie.”
“You’ve got a point. If they get Charlie back before tomorrow, there goes our exchange.”
Yong’s saddle creaked as he shifted back and forth, looking for signs of McIntosh’s gunmen.
“We’re gonna have to play it smart,” Emmett said. “Yong, not even you can go to the mine.”
Still scouring the landscape from beneath his conical straw hat, Yong said, “I’ll send others to keep watch…and to relay anything our guards need to know.”
Emmett nudged his horse into a walk. The others followed.
“Four o’clock tomorrow morning,” Emmett said, “have your men gag Blaylock and bring him to us down at American Flats. Skirt the edge of town and avoid being seen. They might wanna keep a gun on him. From the flats we’ll all make our way together to the exchange point.”
“The same men who volunteered before?”
“If they’re willing,” Emmett said. “Meanwhile, there’s somebody else I’m gonna call on. See if I can’t drum up some additional support.”
They got back to Virginia City well after dark. Even though the hour was late, Emmett, Juanito, and Sikes paid Reverend Pine, the Presbyterian minister, a visit.
From his front porch, the trim-bearded preacher extended a hand, inviting the three inside. “Good to see you again, Mr. Strong.”
Still sensing that they were being ghosted by McIntosh men, Emmett gave the street a quick and wary once-over, then passed through the minister’s doorway.
They were hardly inside when a plump woman with a pretty face and a warm smile stepped from the kitchen into the cozy sitting room.
“Well, who have we here, Reverend Pine?” she asked.
“Three men on a mission, my dear,” Pine said. “And a long way from home at that.” Then, wrapping an arm around the woman’s shoulders, he said to Emmett and his pardners, “Gentlemen, this lovely lady is Mrs. Pine, my sweetheart of nearly twenty years.”
Emmett introduced himself, Juanito, and Sikes and thanked Mrs. Pine for letting them intrude without forewarning. The minister’s wife pishposhed the bit about intruding and insisted over polite protestations that he and his friends sit down for coffee.
Reverend Pine motioned for them to have a seat, then grabbed his pipe from the rolltop desk and pulled out a chair for himself. “How goes the search for your brother’s murderer?” he asked, his gaze fixed on Emmett.
Emmett eyed his pardners. “We know where he is.”
“Well, that’s progress. And what of the Chinese girls? Have you found out anything more about them?”
Emmett filled in Reverend Pine on the events since their last meeting. Then he said, “Last time we met, you didn’t hold out much promise for help from the city marshal.”
Pine shook his head. “I sorely doubt he’d enter Washoe County to cover you while you make that exchange. He tends to keep his head down and play things safe.”
Leaning forward, hands folded on the table, Emmett said, “Out of your entire congregation, is there anybody you can think of who might have the smallest measure of compassion for these girls? Regardless of color,
nobody should let a band of kidnappers force young women into a life of prostitution.”
Reverend Pine rubbed his hand over his beard. When he looked up from the table, he said, “As far as finding volunteers, you’ve got two things working against you. First, you’re going up against men with powerful reputations. Anybody who’d go with you would have to know they’d be facing some of the toughest hired guns west of the Rockies. Not to mention the lingering danger of retaliation even if you did manage to get the girls back here safely.”
“Anything else working against us?”
“Growing anti-Chinese sentiment. People who have to live and do business here don’t want to be ostracized for being overly friendly with the Chinamen.”
Emmett pursed his lips. “You don’t hold out much hope for us. I guess it’s just us three and the handful of Chinese we’ve found guns for then.”
“Well,” Reverend Pine said, “you can count on one more. I’ve done some shooting. Not at people. But in this case I would if I had to.”
Juanito leaned back, eyes widened. “You’ll do it?”
“Yes.”
Just then, Mrs. Pine brought cups and a large coffee pot to the table. It smelled far better than campfire coffee. Emmett knew she’d heard every word. He watched her eyes for a reaction, but her face remained unperturbed.
“Are you OK with your husband doing this, Mrs. Pine?” he asked. “He was right—the danger may not be over for him even if we get back safely tomorrow night.”
Without missing a beat, she answered, “I’d be mighty appreciative of any Chinese men who’d do the same for us if the tables were turned and our daughters were abducted in their country.”
Emmett spoke softly. “You have children, Mrs. Pine?”
She cast a glance at her husband. “No. I’m just saying…Anyway, Ezra will quietly knock on a few doors after coffee. I’ve a feeling one or two others will join you with a little persuasion.”
Strong Convictions: An Emmett Strong Western (Emmett Strong Westerns Book 1) Page 22
