Ralph Compton Rusted Tin

by Ralph Compton

  Wolpert leaned forward and dropped his voice. “Because those keys are probably the ones that open just about every other Wells Fargo strongbox that’s being guarded like this one.”

  “Your crooked sheriff is pretty smart,” Ben said. “Those keys will make it real easy for a gang of thieves to ride away with most of the biggest Wells Fargo shipments over the next year. Once we get a hold of those keys, Burt figures he and a small group of men can form a raiding party that will tear across the country, hit those fat shipments quick and easy and then disappear.”

  Cade’s eyes grew wide. “We sure could. Without havin’ to worry about cracking a safe or hauling one away to be broken later, we could hit them shipments fast enough to make the guards’ heads spin.”

  “If the guards even know we’re there at all,” Ben added. “That’s probably why Burt wanted men who knew what they were doing. Even with a key in hand, all it takes is one overanxious cowboy to spoil the whole thing. But a gang who knows their way around a locked strongbox will be able to do their job in a flicker.”

  “Like training to use a bayonet with a weighted rifle,” Wolpert mused. “When the sergeant finally let us take the weights off, we could damn near stick that blade through a brick wall.”

  A few of the men seemed lost, but Ben could hardly contain himself. “That Burt’s a smart one! And this whole thing will go even smoother with a lawman on our side.”

  Juan shook his head despairingly. “That badge was barely worth the price of melted tin before, but once word gets out about him breaking men out of Dog Creek, he’ll be just another outlaw like the rest of us.”

  Ben looked at Wolpert with some of the most genuine admiration he’d ever had pointed his way since his early army career. “An outlaw, maybe, but one who knows how law dogs really think and where we can find other lawmen who’ll be willing to take a few dollars to let us pass. Burt knew what he was doing in pulling this gang together. We’re all gonna be rich.”

  Something tugged at Wolpert’s chest, like a hook that he’d forgotten he’d swallowed until someone at the other end pulled it taut. It was the same thing that had pulled him into accepting his first bribe. The same thing that told him how any lawman who wanted to live comfortably couldn’t do so in a clean house.

  Chapter 23

  Bear Grove, Oklahoma Territory

  Six days later

  Some might have called it a miracle to get to the little trading post at all. Wolpert had used or given away all but a few dollars of the money from the bank heist, and the other men had left just about everything they owned back at the Dog Creek Jail. According to Eddie, they were to meet Burt in a little section of hell carved out of some dangerous Indian country just north of the Texas border. After he got that bit of bad news, Wolpert followed the first telegraph lines he found to send a message to Fancy’s Emporium in Sedley. It was a simple set of instructions that would be one of the most important messages Lucy Myles would ever receive. Wolpert could only pray that it got to her, because he didn’t have time to wait for a reply.

  Bear Grove was a small settlement at the end of their ride that had grown out of a trading post the way moss spread out from a moldy stump. The only marking on the trading post was a battered sign that read TRADIG POST. Either the owner didn’t know how to spell or had lost a letter to all the lead that flew past his place of business. Additions stretching off the main building had been converted into a stable, a restaurant and several shacks that looked like homes. All of those were connected to the main body by crooked passageways that weren’t much more than short, covered boardwalks.

  Wolpert had never spent much time in the Oklahoma Territories, but had heard plenty about them from cavalry officers who’d visited his post back in his army days. As with most soldiers’ stories, the ones that didn’t involve lewd women were filled with blood. Very few of the stories from this neck of the woods had been about women. Even if the land wasn’t breathtaking, however, it had its own sort of charm. A very wide, very flat charm. After less than two hours spent in Bear Creek, Wolpert was aching for the more familiar flatness of home. On a positive note, the winter conditions weren’t as bad as they’d been up north, but were still harsh enough to set some teeth to chattering.

  “Can’t we go inside?” Malone asked once his jaw stopped trembling.

  Wolpert shrugged and lifted his chin to catch a passing breeze. “And miss this delightful weather? This is the sort of thing that reminds a man he’s alive.”

  “Alive and freezing his toes off.”

  “If you want to go back in to sit around that half-warm stove while listening to another sales pitch, go ahead. I’ll take my chances with the cold.”

  Malone looked over his shoulder to a wide front window of the main structure. Inside, several men huddled around a potbellied stove that was surrounded by glass-topped counters. The fellow who ran the trading post and subsequently the entire settlement had been regaling all of the outlaws and escaped prisoners with the wonders of whatever it was he was selling. Even if he knew his audience was composed of killers and thieves, it was doubtful the salesman would be quiet. “You got a point there,” Malone said as he shifted to once again face forward. “Maybe it isn’t so bad out here.”

  One of the men inside stepped away from the group, was immediately singled out by the overzealous salesman and fought valiantly to break free. After several seconds of insistent arm waving and half-finished protests, the man finally turned his back to the group and walked out. When the front door opened, the salesman’s last attempts to draw his audience back to its original size could be heard echoing out into the vast Oklahoma landscape.

  “Jesus, Lord Almighty,” Burt muttered as he stepped outside and shut the door behind him. “I don’t think that man drew a breath the whole time he was talking.”

  “What’s he goin’ on about?” Malone asked.

  Burt shook his head as if trying to distance himself from a bad memory. “I don’t know. Some sort of tonic or shaving mirror. Could’a been new boots for all I know. I’m just glad to be away from there.”

  “What about them?” Wolpert asked while nodding at the window.

  Gazing in at the rest of his gang, Burt waved and hissed, “They can fend for themselves.”

  “Hope you don’t abandon us like that when we go after that stagecoach tomorrow.”

  “We’ll all be in friendlier territory with Wells Fargo men shooting at us. Besides, if everything goes the way it should, it’ll probably take longer for us to ride there and back than it will to get that strongbox.”

  Malone rubbed his arms vigorously and stared out at the desolate landscape as if he’d set his sights upon paradise itself. “And we’ll be real busy after that,” he said wistfully. “Hitting more stagecoaches from here to—”

  Burt silenced him with a pat on the shoulder that was hard enough to rattle Malone down to his boots. Keeping his hand in place as though it was a friendly gesture, Burt said, “We all know what we’re gonna do. No need to shout it to the Injuns out there.”

  “You think we’ll get any trouble on that account?” Wolpert asked.

  “From the redskins?” Burt scoffed. “Hardly. Wells Fargo don’t send valuable shipments through hell just so they can get picked off by savages. They must have scouted a clear path or sent ahead some sharpshooters to blaze a trail.”

  “Or haggled with some of the tribal leaders to arrive at a good price for safe passage.”

  When Burt patted Wolpert on the shoulder, it wasn’t nearly as harsh as when he’d knocked Malone around. “Leave it to a crooked lawman to think of the angles that require more cash than bullets. That’s why I’m glad to have you along with us on this. We got all the angles figured. But if things do take a turn for the worse, we still got our own sharpshooters to do things the hard way.”

  “Yeah,” Wolpert said as he looked through the window again. “You sure do.”

  Shoving Malone toward the front door of the trading post, Burt sa
id, “Go on inside and warm yourself up. Me and Zeke need to have a word.”

  Malone wasn’t anxious to be reintroduced to the salesman, but he was less anxious to go against Burt’s wishes. Once Malone was gone and the door was shut, Burt lowered himself onto one of the old rocking chairs that were scattered across the post’s front porch. The wood was warped from the elements and creaked loudly beneath him, but Burt settled into the chair with all the confidence in the world. “So, are you in or not?”

  “Ain’t it a bit too late to ask me that?” Wolpert mused.

  “I know you were in this far, but there’s a long ways to go. Once you come along past a certain point, you’ve gotta be in all the way. There’ll be plenty of jobs after this one. Once the first few of them keys are put to use, there’ll be more guards to contend with on every shipment. They’ll be ready for us to hit ’em.”

  “That’s why it’d be foolish to hit them all.” Shrugging, Wolpert added, “It may even be foolish to think they’ll use any of those strongboxes once the keys fall into our hands.”

  “You think I’m stupid? You think I’d steal all them keys and just assume Wells Fargo would keep using them boxes? There are a few master keys in the bunch that unlock more’n one strongbox, and Ben can figure out which ones they are. We’ll leave the rest, along with a few I had made while you and the boys were in Lester.” Burt reached into his jacket pocket and removed a ring of keys that all looked small enough to be teeth pulled from the jaws of a metallic animal. “These were made by a craftsman who swears they’re close enough to the ones used by Wells Fargo.”

  “Close enough to fool men who make it their business to know the difference?”

  “They’d better be. Otherwise, I got a serious bone to pick with that craftsman I mentioned. Anyway,” Burt added as he stuffed the keys back into his pocket, “it don’t matter if it fools them for long. These keys will convince ’em to keep using them boxes for a while longer. I’ve got a line on three shipments passing through Texas alone that we can hit in the next week. From then on, I sell the keys off to other robbers lookin’ to make names for themselves.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Wolpert admitted.

  “Which is where you come in again. You think along the lines of who you can sweet-talk and who you can’t. You gotta know some robbers who got more cash than brains. Maybe some of your law-dog friends could be interested. Between the two of us, we should be able to find a good amount of buyers who don’t know Wells Fargo is wise to their keys bein’ missing. I know plenty of outlaws myself, and most of ’em wouldn’t even figure it all out no matter what. Men like you and me, we can spot the weak and stupid folks. That’s how we’ve stayed alive so long.”

  Once again, Wolpert was unable to counter a statement that insulted his very essence as a man. The truth of the matter was that he could pick out a weak or stupid member of a herd and he surely did know how to put that fool to work so it benefited him the most.

  “We both put this gang together,” Burt continued. “I’ll see to it that we get them keys and use a few of the most valuable ones before it’s too late. You’ll help me unload the rest and we’ll each make enough of a profit to buy us nice little haciendas south of the border. How’s that sound?”

  To Wolpert, it sounded like the very thing he’d been fearing since the moment he’d first heard about the plan. It also sounded like a real good way to get a lot of Wells Fargo men killed as they were besieged by Burt and his gang. It could also be a way to send a lot of dim-witted outlaws to their graves when they bought the keys that became useless once Wells Fargo changed all their locks. That was a wrinkle that Wolpert hadn’t foreseen. He’d actually thought Burt was foolish enough to believe he could be the one to put all those keys to use. But none of that mattered because Wolpert’s own plan was already in motion. And if it wasn’t, he’d be certain to muck up the works for Burt Sampil.

  “Sounds fine,” Wolpert said as everything else rushed through his head.

  For a second, Burt didn’t seem convinced. He eyed Wolpert suspiciously before shifting his gaze to the open expanse in front of him. “We’ll just see for ourselves real soon, won’t we?”

  Chapter 24

  Eight men rode toward the Red River, which stretched out before them beneath a crust of blown snow and dead weeds. The winter’s teeth weren’t as sharp this close to Texas, but they still did a good enough job of shredding through Wolpert’s coat and raking against his tired body. That morning, Burt had gone to each man in turn, quietly discussing strategy and what was in store for them that day. No doubt, each man was told a different thing and promised a slice of the pie that was larger than what the others might expect. Since the outlaws surely had their own plans brewing, they nodded at some of what Burt told them and discarded the rest.

  Breakfast had been a hearty stack of buckwheat griddle cakes served up at the restaurant connected to the Trading Post. As he’d eaten his meal, Wolpert sat with Tom, Cade and Juan to wait for their talk from Burt. When it was his turn to receive his whispered orders, Wolpert merely got a wink and a pat on the shoulder. Burt had already told him enough.

  The sun was just a pale glow in the stark gray sky, framed by tattered clouds that seemed ready to fall onto the earth in cold wisps. Burt and his riders moved like a single beast. When he gave the signal, the men on either side of Burt passed it along so the procession could spread out to cover more ground. Not a word was said as the line of horses extended so the rider at one end could hardly make out the one at the other.

  If Malone’s information held up, the Wells Fargo wagons would be crossing the river sometime within the next day. Considering the hardships that accompanied any overland route across the Oklahoma Indian territories, those men would be lucky if Burt’s men were the only ones to lay siege to their shipment. Indian attacks in this neck of the woods were expected, and if a Wells Fargo driver didn’t take that into account, he deserved as bad as he got. Someone had struck a deal with the redskins. Wolpert was sure of that. Clearing a path using a more forceful method would create too many enemies among the tribes.

  After the men approached the river, they found somewhere to keep out of sight and lie low. That wasn’t an easy task given the flat terrain, but there was a fairly good rise north of the river that the Wells Fargo caravan would need to crest on their approach. Choosing a different route would only tack on another day or two as they found a spot to cross. Considering the coldness of the water, no driver would want to expose his horses to the torture of a long stroll across a river. For that matter, most drivers wouldn’t want to venture so far this time of year unless it was absolutely necessary. Surely, that was supposed to be another factor acting to mask the shipment. There were plenty more factors in play and unfortunately, Wolpert had time to consider them all.

  Finally, after hours of waiting and considering, he spotted a hint of movement to the north. Several stagecoaches headed toward the river at a quick pace and had yet to crest the rise in front of them. Wolpert went to his saddlebags and removed a set of field glasses to get a better look. While the other men sent signals up and down the line, he climbed into his saddle and rode to the spot where Burt was waiting.

  “There’s more men with them than we thought,” Wolpert shouted as he approached Burt.

  The gang’s leader motioned for Wolpert to hide himself, and when the lawman didn’t budge, he hopped to his feet and snarled, “I don’t care how many there are! We got surprise on our side and you’ll ruin it if you parade up and down this river!”

  “They’re ready for an attack. They’ve got men flanking the coaches on either side. Take a look for yourself.”

  Burt caught the field glasses Wolpert tossed to him and took a gander through them. “Damn it,” he grunted.

  “Those men are ready for someone to come at them. If we do that, we’ll just play into their hands and probably won’t live long enough to regret it.”

  “You got any ideas?”

  “Sure d
o.”

  The coaches had disappeared behind the rise by the time Wolpert rode to Juan’s spot. He lay on his belly with a rifle at his shoulder. When Wolpert was close enough to hear him, Juan asked, “What’s got you so riled up?”

  “Haven’t you seen the men riding alongside those coaches?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about the men coming up behind us to the south?”

  Juan rolled onto his side and took a look behind him. “I don’t see any riders from the south.”

  “Well, they’re there. Burt saw ’em too and he wants to go about this a different way.”

  Juan got to his knees so he could make himself more visible to the man at the middle of the line. Burt was already looking back at him and signaled that new orders were coming. It was a simple set of waves using both arms, but it was all Juan needed to see before shifting his focus back to Wolpert. “What’s the new plan?”

  “Remember how I got you fellas into Dog Creek Jail?”

  “Aw, hell. Not that again!”

  “Those men riding with the stagecoaches sure ain’t there to keep the drivers company. They’re armed and they’ve got position on us from two different directions.”

  “How the hell did that happen?” Juan snapped. “Did they know we’d be here?”

  “We’ll figure that out later. Right now, Burt and I want to finish this job without getting slaughtered in a cross fire. If we let that stage go, we won’t get another chance.”

  “If they know we’re here, how do we know the shipment wasn’t moved to a different stage?”

  “That’s a good point,” Wolpert said with exasperation tugging at the edges of his voice. “Why don’t you go ask Burt what he thinks? Maybe we can hold a nice little committee. And if those armed guards get here before then, we can ask them what they think!”

  “No need to get lippy. What would you have me do?”

  “You got rope along with the rest of your gear?”