Joe hailed the stagecoach driver, and the man pulled his team up at the hotel. Fiona hugged and kissed Joe good-bye, and then she also hugged Wolf, saying, “You two watch each other’s backs.”
“We will,” Wolf promised. “If we could survive two run-ins with Paiutes and that desert crossing, we’ll do all right against Peabody and his friends.”
“I’ll be waitin’ and prayin’ for both of you,” Fiona said, hurrying into the hotel without a backward look because she didn’t want them to see her tears.
“You two leavin’ that little woman and goin’ on into Virginia City?” the driver asked.
“We are,” Joe said. “Actually, we’re goin’ over the Divide and down into Gold Hill.”
“I’m drivin’ this stage right on through Gold Hill. What business you fellas got there?” the man asked.
“We got a settlin’ business to take care of.”
“A what?”
“Never mind,” Wolf said. “Just take us over the Divide and drop us off in front of the Shamrock Mine. We have business with Mr. Garrison Peabody.”
“You fellas don’t look like hard-rock miners to me. Besides, I don’t believe that Peabody is hirin’ right now.”
“We’ve come a long, hard way,” Joe growled. “Just quit the jawin’ and drive us down to the Shamrock Mine.”
“All right, but you don’t have to get scratchy about it!” the driver growled.
Once Joe and Wolf were back in the stagecoach and all by themselves, Wolf said, “Are we just going to go in there and get the drop on Peabody and his bunch?”
“That’s the general idea,” Joe replied. “And then I’ll ask the rich man real nice if he wants to step outside and settle this thing between us once and for all. Wolf, your job is to make sure that one of Peabody’s men don’t back-shoot me while I’m carvin’ up their boss.”
“I can do that,” Wolf assured him.
The stagecoach made a short stop in Virginia City and took on a few passengers bound for Carson City. Joe and Wolf, faces cracked by wind and sun, bloodied, worn, and wounded by their desert trials, didn’t even get a hello from the other passengers, who shrank as far away from them as possible.
“I guess maybe we should get a bath someday,” Wolf said with a half smile. “These good city folks are acting like we’re smellin’ pretty ripe, Joe.”
“Most likely because we are. But real soon, everything is about to change.”
“Amen,” Wolf replied, staring out the window at all the huge Comstock mines and wondering if he would even still be alive in one hour.
27
THE SHAMROCK MINE had been rebuilt after Joe Moss had blown it up with dynamite almost a year ago. Now the office was bigger, with clean windows and a large, impressive sign out in front. The hoisting works were all new, and the immense steam engines were thumping as they lowered and lifted men and ore from deep in the belly of Sun Mountain.
“It looks like they’ve rebuilt everything bigger and better since I blowed ’er all to smithereens,” Joe observed as he and Wolf stepped down from the stagecoach and tipped the driver two bits for taking them over the Divide.
“The sign out front says that they’re not hiring today,” Wolf said, pointing.
“Yeah, I can read it,” Joe said, checking the gun on his hip. “Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” the half-breed told him.
“Then let’s go in and get this bounty business settled once and for all.”
Joe opened the door and stepped into the big mining office. As he remembered from his last visit, there was a counter behind which were a roomful of desks and clerks at work, with a large private office in the back. On the door of the office were bold gold letters: GARRISON PEABODY, PRESIDENT.
A clerk wearing an eyeshade left his desk and approached the front counter. “If you men are looking for work, then you’ll have to keep looking because we aren’t hiring.”
“I read that outside,” Joe said, eyes fixed on Peabody’s private office, whose interior was blocked from view by the closed door. “Is the big boss in that office right now?”
“If you mean Mr. Peabody, then yes.”
“Good,” Joe said, moving around the counter to a little swinging gate and pushing right through it on his way toward the private office.
“Wait a minute there!” the clerk shouted as everyone looked up from their paperwork. “You can’t go in there without an appointment!”
“But we are,” Wolf said, drawing his pistol and waving it at the roomful of staring clerks. “And I wouldn’t advise anyone to try and stop us.”
Joe was already at the door of the office, and he threw it open to see a large, clean-shaven gentleman in his forties dressed in a very expensive suit sitting behind an enormous oak desk. The man looked up and started to say something, but Joe spoke first.
“I’m Joe Moss, the man you sent Ransom Holt to bring back dead or alive along with my wife, Mrs. Fiona Moss.”
Garrison Peabody’s eyes grew wide with astonishment, and then he made a grab for a desk drawer, probably to reach a hideout pistol. But Joe was on him like a bird on a bug, and he kicked Peabody’s swiveling desk chair into a full circle, and then he slapped the rich mine owner in his smooth, handsome face. The blow sounded like a shot, and Peabody was knocked out of his chair and against the wall.
“Stand up and let’s finish this once and for all,” Joe shouted. “Fists, guns, or knives. It’s your choice, but make up your mind fast.”
Peabody picked himself up and wiped his face. “You,” he hissed, eyes filled with hatred.
Wolf drew his six-gun and pointed it out at the outer office so that there would be no unwanted interference.
“What’s it gonna be?” Joe demanded, raising his fists. “A beating or a killin’? Either way is fine with me so long as we put our feud to rest.”
Peabody rose to his full height and clenched his fists. Wolf had to give it to the rich mine owner; he wasn’t some pampered coward frantically pleading for help from his employees.
Peabody lunged forward, swinging a hard right hand that, had it connected, would have sent Joe Moss staggering back into the large office. But Joe ducked and drove his own right hand into the rich man’s gut, which proved soft. Peabody’s mouth flew open and he gasped. Joe reared back and pounded a right cross that connected with Peabody’s jaw, sending the rich man crashing to the floor.
“Get up!” Joe ordered. “You caused me and my wife more hardship and pain than I’ll ever be able to put on you, but right now it’s time for starters.”
Peabody struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on the desk. His face had turned pale and his eyes were glassy.
“Get your fists up, rich man! I’m gonna beat you bloody and then I’m gonna cut your damned throat!”
Wolf turned back into the office and jammed the barrel of his gun into Joe’s spine. “No, you’re not,” he said quietly. “Because, Joe, if you as much as move, I’m going to kill you.”
Joe stiffened and swallowed hard. “You sneaky half-breed sonofabitch! You tricked me!”
“That’s right,” Wolf said. “How else was I going to get you here so that I could collect that bounty money?”
“You’re gonna fry in Hell!” Joe raged, feeling the barrel of Wolf’s gun hard against his backbone. “I swear you will.”
Peabody stepped forward and drove his meaty fist into Joe’s gut, doubling him up. “So how does it feel, Moss?”
Joe started to lunge at the mine owner, but Wolf rammed his gun barrel into Joe’s ear, saying, “Don’t do it or I’ll blow your mangy head clean off!”
Peabody hit Joe Moss again, this time in the face, and dropped him to the polished office floor.
“Ouch,” Peabody said, rubbing his knuckles. “That hurt!”
“I brought him to you,” Wolf said, glancing at a big safe in the corner of Peabody’s office. “And I believe the bounty you were going to pay Ransom Holt was seven thousand dollars
.”
“That was for Moss and his wife,” Peabody countered.
“Fiona Moss can be found at the Gold Strike Hotel on C Street. She’s waiting for us to come back.”
Joe spat blood at the polished office floor and cursed. “I don’t know how, Wolf, but I’m gonna kill you!”
“Shut up!” Wolf shouted, eyes fixed on Garrison Peabody. “So I’ll take that seven thousand dollars in cash right now.”
“I . . . I don’t have it all.”
“Sure you do,” Wolf said. “Open that big safe.”
“There’s not quite seven thousand in it. Maybe only a little over five thousand.”
“I’ll take that, and the rest when we put Fiona Moss’s head in the noose.”
Peabody smiled. “Well done! Just a moment and I’ll get the safe open for you.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time for that bounty money,” Wolf admitted. “I reckon that I can wait another minute longer.”
Garrison Peabody went to his safe and, concealing its combination lock from view with his thick body, he spun the dial and soon had the safe open. Wolf saw the man scooping out wads of cash and stuffing them into a canvas bank deposit bag. With his gun still trained on Joe, Wolf went to stand near the Shamrock Mine owner. “All of it, Mr. Peabody. Those gold and silver coins, too.”
“Then this will be close to the seven thousand,” Peabody was saying as he worked fast. “And by the way, what happened to Ransom Holt?”
“Joe Moss shot the back of his head off. He also killed Jedediah Charles and Ike. Joe Moss killed every man you sent . . . but you never sent me, and that’s why I’m the one collecting the bounty.”
“I don’t care who collects, as long as I have them both ready to be hanged,” Peabody said, standing up and handing the heavy canvas bag filled with coin and cash to Wolf. He reached into his office desk and drew out a gun. “Now that you’ve been paid, you can leave. I’ll take care of Mr. Moss and his wife.”
Quicker than the strike of a snake, Wolf slammed the barrel of his six-gun across the rich mine owner’s face, knocking him unconscious to the floor.
“Get up, Man Killer,” Wolf ordered. “We’ve been paid and we’re ready to leave now.”
Joe came to his feet, a look of disbelief on his face. “You mean you was just actin’?”
“That’s right,” Wolf confessed. “I didn’t see any other way to get the bounty except to pretend that I was collecting it on you.”
“Damn,” Joe said, rubbing his jaw and looking from Wolf to Peabody and back to Wolf again. “You sure had me fooled!”
“It had to be that way,” Wolf said, turning his gun toward the office. “All you people out there just stay seated and don’t do anything stupid!”
Peabody moaned, and Joe turned back to the man. “I can’t leave this unfinished.”
“Joe,” Wolf said, “he’s whipped and I can’t let you murder him. If I do that, then I’ll be wanted for murder along with you. That’s not the way that this is going to end.”
“It’ll end the way I say it’ll end!” Joe shouted.
“I need this money for my people and you need some of it for your wife and child. Now let’s go!”
Joe Moss had his hand on his holstered Colt revolver, and he wanted in the most terrible way to pull the gun out and shoot Garrison Peabody, but the man was on the floor and only half conscious.
“All right,” Joe finally decided. He pointed a shaking finger at Peabody and said, “I killed two of your brothers, so I guess I can understand why you hate me so much. But Fiona never killed the first ’un and I won’t have you comin’ after us with more bounty hunters. You do, I’ll come back and skin you alive! Hear me?”
Peabody managed to weakly nod his head.
“Good!” Joe exclaimed. “Wolf, let’s get the hell outa here!”
Wolf thought that was a fine idea. He clutched a fortune in one hand and a gun in the other, and the future suddenly looked a whole lot better for his starving Cheyenne people.
They hurried outside and started up the road through Gold Hill, holstering their guns and moving as fast as they could on foot. They crossed the Divide and then limped through Virginia City until they arrived at the Gold Strike Hotel. Fiona ran out the door and threw her arms around her husband, crying with happiness. Then she gave Wolf a hug for good measure.
“I’m going to find a livery and buy us three fast horses,” Wolf told them. He hoisted the heavy bag filled with cash and coin. “I can buy the best now.”
“Meet us down at St. Mary’s where we’ll be gettin’ our little girl,” Joe told the half-breed.
“I’ll do it!”
Joe and Fiona ran all the way down the mountainside to burst breathlessly into the white-steepled Catholic church.
“Father O’Connor!”
The old Irish priest appeared holding hands with Jessica. “I saw you both running down here from C Street and I knew you’d finally come for this sweet and beautiful child of God.”
“Jessica!” Fiona cried, throwing her arms around the girl. “We’ve come to take you with us this time.”
Joe had a hard time keeping his emotions under control. Father O’Connor pulled him aside and said, “I have something to confess, Mr. Moss.”
“You have something to confess to me?”
The priest nodded. “There was a man named Thurston Poole, a hard-drinkin’ man who sometimes came to our church for Confession and absolution.”
Joe was confused. “I never heard of Thurston Poole. What’s he got to do with anything?”
“He was the one that stabbed Chester Peabody to death that bloody night in front of your wife’s shack. Mr. Poole couldn’t live with the guilt and he confessed the murder to me.”
Fiona was holding their daughter, but she’d overheard the priest and now she stood to face him. “So . . . so you know that I didn’t kill that man, Father?”
“I know,” the priest answered quietly. “And Thurston Poole got so drunk and sick with guilt, despite his confession, that he shot himself in the head two weeks ago.” Father O’Connor bowed his head and made the sign of the cross. “We had a Mass for his poor, tortured soul and we buried him up in our little Catholic cemetery.”
“Father, why in God’s name didn’t you tell Garrison Peabody that my wife is innocent of his brother’s death?” Joe demanded. “I was just at the Shamrock Mine and he doesn’t know the truth yet.”
The priest looked very ashamed of himself. “I meant to tell Mr. Peabody someday. But . . . but I didn’t know you were coming back so soon and I just . . . well, I just didn’t . . . yet.”
“But you will!” Fiona cried. “Father, you must!”
“You have my word that I will tell him this very day that you were not the one that murdered Chester Peabody that dark and terrible night.”
Fiona drew in a deep breath and studied the downcast Irish priest a moment before saying, “We all make mistakes, Father. Even priests. You and the nuns have taken care of our dear little girl out of love and kindness, and so I forgive you.”
The priest smiled and took her hand in his own. “Thank you, my dear. And God go with you and your family always.”
Fiona looked at Joe. “I think we should leave with our daughter right now.”
“Yes,” Joe agreed. “And Father, don’t you be waiting any longer to tell that rich man that my Fiona is innocent.”
“I swear on my mother’s grave I’ll go tell Mr. Peabody today.”
“All right,” Joe said, satisfied that at last the blood feud had been put to rest.
Wolf was waiting in front of the Gold Strike Hotel with three fine saddle horses. “They cost me five times as much as they’re worth,” he complained. “Everything up here costs a fortune.”
“You have a fortune now,” Joe reminded the half-breed.
Wolf handed Joe a small bag of cash. “It’s not half, but it’s still a lot of money, Joe. It’ll buy you, Fiona, and that beautiful daughter a good
start somewhere.”
Joe was pleased. “Wolf, I’m taking my wife and daughter to see the Pacific Ocean before we go on to the high country.”
“I’ve never seen an ocean,” Wolf said, eyes on the Sierras. “Mind if I join you?”
“Nope,” Joe said. “In fact, you can come with us all the way to the high country.”
“And which high country would that be?” Wolf asked.
“The Big Horns,” Joe told him.
“Why, that’s my country, too!” Wolf said with a laugh.
Joe said to the half-breed, “So we’re family now and we’re going all the way together.”
Stalking Wolf of the Cheyenne understood what was being said to him and he was glad. He had never really had a family, but now he and Joe Moss were brothers and would live out their days in peace in the big mountain country.
Comstock Cross Fire Page 20
