General Dimsdale played up to him – ‘Good morning to you, Draper. Good morning, gentlemen.’
Colonel Rally said: ‘We were on our way to call on you, General. The federal marshal has called on me for assistance. My men are already patrolling the streets and holding all the roads into Tucson.’
Both the governor and McMasters took this for the naked threat it was meant to be. The opposition looked formidable, but the general was not taking it lying down.
In a sharp, authoritative voice he declared: ‘A man could be forgiven for suspecting that martial law had been declared. By the way, can anybody tell me just where the federal marshal is?’
The direct question troubled them. Their faces showed it. But it would take more than that to disturb Draper.
‘Last I heard of him,’ he said, ‘was that he was in Phoenix. Now, General, maybe we should meet in your office and discuss the situation.’
The general thought to disarm them by his readiness to comply.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘An excellent idea. Maybe you gentlemen would care to take breakfast with me. Mr McMasters, can I prevail upon you to join us?’
‘Of course, General.’
Draper said quickly: ‘I hardly think we need to inconvenience Mr McMasters, General.’
‘My pleasure entirely, Draper,’ said McMasters. His right hand was never far from the butt of his gun, a fact that certainly Draper did not miss. He eyed McMasters with some resentment, then laughed and gestured for them all to proceed. Making inconsequential small talk, they all strolled easily down the road to the governor’s residence. The sentries saluted, not too smartly, and they all went in.
In the office, the general placed himself behind his desk and McMasters took up a position behind and slightly to his left. There he could keep his eye on those in the room and also the patio beyond the open door.
The first to speak was Milton Draper. He said, ‘May I introduce Captain John May, General. With your permission, he will stay in this house to ensure that you’re safe if any of the insurrectionists show their faces in Tucson.’
‘Insurrectionists?’ cried the general. ‘This is all very sudden. It’s the first I’ve heard of anything of the kind.’
Draper said: ‘I have the evidence of my own eyes, governor. Last night my men were attacked on the Tucson road by a large party of armed men, most of them Mexicans in the pay of Sebastian Espada.’
‘I find it very difficult to believe that the old don would take up arms without good cause,’ declared the general.
‘I have living proof,’ announced Draper. ‘Or rather dead proof. Two of my men were killed. Espada’s people were last seen on the road to town.’
Every man in the room heard a muffled shout. The governor, who was now in a highly nervous state, started visibly and asked: ‘What was that?’
Somebody said: ‘It was the guard.’
They all turned their eyes to the door leading into the house as somebody hurried down the hall. A moment later, the door burst open and Alpert, the territorial secretary, burst in. They could all see that he was in a high state of excitement.
His eyes searched their faces until he found Draper. ‘Blade’s been sighted in town,’ he blurted out.
This announcement was greeted by a silence, almost instantly broken by them all talking at once. Draper shouted for them to hold their noise. He turned to Rally.
‘Colonel,’ he said, ‘I want that man. Now.’
The soldier jumped.
General Dimsdale was on his feet – ‘If you find Blade, I demand that you do him no harm. You must bring him here to me, Colonel. Do you understand that?’
Draper smiled – ‘I have no objection to that.’
The colonel stamped from the room. Alpert turned on Draper. His face showed his fright.
‘I thought Blade was dead,’ he cried. ‘You promised me that Blade would be dead.’
Draper cast an uneasy glance at Captain May who was obviously not in the plot.
‘We will discuss this later, Alpert,’ he said. ‘Get a hold on yourself.’
The governor shouted at Draper, ‘If Blade is free, maybe my wife is free also. If she’s free, you can all go to hell.’
Captain May said: ‘I don’t get any of this.’ Some alarm showed on his face as he looked from one to the other of them. ‘General, am I to understand—’
‘You don’t have to understand anything, captain,’ Draper said. ‘All you have to do is carry out orders.’
‘Not so goddam fast,’ said the captain stoutly. ‘I’m a volunteer. I don’t know that I care too much for the sound of all this.’ He plainly didn’t own the fastest wits in the west. He thought a little and added: ‘Maybe I do have to carry out orders, Mr Draper, but they ain’t your orders.’
George McMasters said: ‘Captain, you may be interested to know that these men are putting pressure on the governor to act against his better judgment. Do you want to know how they did that, captain?’
The officer gazed around him in confusion.
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I guess while we’re on the subject, I sure would.’
Draper said quickly: ‘I suggest you arrest that man, captain. As your colonel would have done if he was present. This is George McMasters who is in cahoots with Blade – who is wanted by every lawman in the territory.’
General Dimsdale said: ‘Rubbish. George is here at my request.’
Draper produced a gun from under his coat. He pointed it at McMasters and said: ‘Then this is a citizen’s arrest. Raise your hands.’
One of the other men produced a gun and every man there knew that it pointed at the governor.
The poor captain was now in utter confusion.
‘I really do have to protest, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I—’
Somebody said: ‘To protest is not enough. We need some action. Draper, drop that gun.’ Draper turned. His face seemed to collapse when he saw Blade framed in the doorway, Blade who was saying: ‘You’re free to do as you want, General. All our ladies are safe.’
Two guns went off with a twin roar that deafened everybody in the room. The sound was the signal for a pandemonium of action. Draper hurled his massive form with incredible speed after the shot he had fired. Every man there with the exception of the governor and the captain held a gun in his hand. Stavers who was at Draper’s side walked around in a tight circle with his eyes tightly clenched and fell across the governor’s desk. George McMasters took Stavers’ shot through the side of his neck. He walked three paces backward and fell in the patio.
Blade took a forty-five slug along his right ribs, which did not do him much good, for that was where he had received the knife thrust. He stumbled back from the blow of it and tripped over a chair. On the floor, he raised his gun for a shot at the fast retreating Draper, but he had to hold his fire because there were soldiers of the guard hurrying down the hall towards him. Draper smashed his way through them and reached the front door.
Blade was yelling: ‘Stop that man.’
A couple of soldiers stopped and turned back, but Draper flung a shot over his shoulder. One of the soldiers cried out and went down to his knees. Then Draper was out of the door and on to the street.
The other man who had been with Draper fired at Blade. The bullet thudded into the floor not an inch from Blade’s hand. Instinctively, Blade thumbed back the hammer of his gun and triggered. The man turned on tiptoe, walked into the wall and fell to the floor.
The room was full of burned black powder fumes and the stench of it. Blade climbed to his feet, coughing. As the soldiers burst into the room, he told them: ‘There’s a wounded man in the patio. Take care of him.’
The governor now produced a gun from a drawer and shouted: ‘After Draper, Blade. By God, I’ve had enough of that son-of-a-bitch.’
Blade was already out of the door and running down the hall.
When he reached the street, the men on guard there were in confusion. As soon as he appeared they
turned their questions on him. He sighted Draper already a good way down the street.
He drew a bead on the man, but one of the soldiers stepped into his sights. He yelled for the man to get out of the way. As soon as he could clearly see Draper’s fleeing form, Blade fired. It was a miss. Draper halted and fired back.
One of the soldiers said in amazement: ‘Jeez, he’s shootin’ at us.’
Blade broke into a run again.
There was a rider further down the street, about fifty paces on the far side of Draper. Blade could scarcely believe his eyes. But he knew he would recognize that figure any place.
The figure on the horse was Charity.
The damn girl had followed him to Tucson.
Rage exploded in Blade. Why the hell didn’t the goddam girl do as she was told? He liked independence in a woman, but this was plain suicidal.
He waved frantically to her as he ran and bellowed: ‘Go back, go back.’
She stood up in her stirrups and waved back to him. Draper ran on, still keeping an amazing speed for a man that size. He seemed to run down on Charity like fate itself. Blade ran on, agonisingly frustrated, knowing he dare not shoot in case he should hit the girl.
Draper reached the horse and grabbed for the bridle. Blade heard Charity’s voice, sharp and angry. The horse reared. Charity was half out of the saddle. When the animal’s forefeet came down on the road surface again, Draper’s great right arm plucked her effortlessly from the saddle. The horse kicked up its heels, danced sideways and ran towards Blade close to the buildings. Draper stayed in the centre of the street, the girl covering part of his body.
‘Back off, Blade,’ he roared, ‘or, by God, I’ll blow her to hell.’
Blade halted as if he had run into a stone wall.
He called: ‘Don’t be a fool, Draper. You’re finished. If you harm the girl you’ll hang for sure.’
Draper laughed and fired a shot that came so close that Blade jumped. Then the big man was running to the edge of the street. For a brief moment, Blade stared at his unprotected back. He raised his gun for a quick shot, but Draper was gone from sight before he could squeeze the trigger.
Blade started running again. Getting Draper suddenly seemed unimportant. All he could think of was saving the girl. The gate to the yard of Draper’s house was locked. Blade hurled himself at it, but it was of solid oak and did not budge an inch. He looked at the high adobe wall around the place, shoved his gun away into leather and leapt for the top of the wall. Rather to his surprise, his hands found a hold first time. He swung a leg up, lay along the top and dropped down the far side.
As he did so, a rifle slammed out from the house. The bullet struck the top of the wall and scattered fragments of adobe.
Blade looked up and saw smoke drifting from a window above him. Lifting his gun, he fired carefully. A man grunted, leaned from the window and fell into the yard.
Blade wondered how many shots he had left in his gun, but he did not stop to check. Urgency to reach the girl was everything. He found the main entrance to the house. Another heavy old oak door that scarcely shuddered when he tried to shoulder his way through. Impatience burned in him. He tried kicking the lock, but failed to move it. He ran around the house, under an archway and found himself in a patio surrounded on three sides by the house.
Here was an open door. He headed for it.
He went into a kitchen. There were signs of a meal being prepared, but it was deserted. Beyond this room, he went into a hallway with a number of doors leading off it. At the far end was an open doorway. He thought he heard the sound of voices beyond it, but all he could see was the glare of sunlight.
He legged it down the hallway as fast as he could go and burst out into the sunlight.
He found himself in the midst of a crowd of men making a hasty departure. Plainly the whole of Draper’s entourage was on the move. He could take in no more than a blur of faces and motion.
A man must have recognized him.
‘There’s Blade.’
Faces turned in his direction.
Blade heard the sound of a horse moving off to his left. He heard the girl’s sharp scream.
A man sitting up on the seat of a wagon, drew his gun and started fanning shots in Blade’s direction. But only in his direction, for the range was too great for fanning. Blade’s return shot drove him back into the wagon. Then Blade knew how many shots he had left in his gun. None at all. He did the only thing he could do, he darted back through the doorway to reload.
The men out there knew only too well what had driven him back into cover. They jumped into position so they could sight him easily. Several shots sang through the opening and it was a miracle that Blade did not stop one. He backed up in the relative darkness of the house, loading as fast as his fingers could perform the job.
He could hear shouts behind him in the house. There was no way of knowing if they came from Draper’s men.
He started to sweat. A man with a Winchester in his hands darted to the open doorway and fired. He started to lever a fresh round into the breech, but Blade had closed his gun and fired a shot that drove him back out of sight.
Blade now ran out into the sunlight again.
There were men riding away, men swinging into the saddle, one man whipping the team hitched to the wagon.4 A horseman, spurring his mount, came close to Blade. For a brief second, their eyes met, then Blade’s left hand caught the tail of his coat and whisked him out of the saddle.
The man hit the ground very hard.
He looked up at Blade and said: ‘Christ.’
Blade pushed his gun into the man’s face. The man’s startled eyes saw the cocked trigger and he said in a sort of hushed whisper ‘For crissake uncock this goddam gun.’
Blade said through his teeth: ‘Where’s Draper?’
‘He rid out,’ the man said. ‘Uncock the hammer, friend. Yeah, he rid out.’
‘Where to?’
‘Montana if he has any sense,’ the man said. ‘That hammer, Blade.’
Blade carefully lowered the hammer. He looked around. The last rider was disappearing in a cloud of dust.
He said to the man: ‘Go catch up your horse. And keep riding.’
The man stood up.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘You’re a white man, Blade.’
Blade laughed and walked away.
The street was an untidy sight, with men hurrying this way and that. Most of them seemed to be soldiers. Suddenly, the governor was in front of him.
‘Did you get Draper, Joe?’
‘No, sir. He got away with the girl.’
‘He’s got to be caught.’
‘I know it. And I’m going to catch him.’
He walked into the livery and there was his horse already saddled. There also was George McMasters with a bandage around his neck.
Blade said: ‘And what the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘Goin’ to catch Draper.’
‘Oh no,’ said Blade. ‘You’re hurt.’
McMasters looked mean.
‘You’re going to need my Indian half following that snake,’ he said.
Blade put his foot in the stirrup-iron and swung into the saddle. McMasters followed suit. They trotted their horses out on to the street. The first man they saw was Colonel Rally who roared at the top of his voice: ‘Arrest that man.’
Happily, General Dimsdale was quickly at the colonel’s elbow to tell him that the situation was now a little changed and the man who had been going to run and own Arizona was now a fugitive from justice. The colonel went slightly green. Blade and McMasters raised their hands in salute to the governor and lifted their horses into an easy canter.
‘I don’t suppose,’ Blade said, ‘you even gave the subject of supplies a thought.’
‘See them saddle-pockets?’ said McMasters smugly. ‘They’re a-brimmin’ with dry tack. We could eat well to the other end of Sonora. And maybe we’ll have to at that. Any bets on Mexico?’
Blade said: ‘It’s nearest.’
‘You got any kin south of here?’
Blade rolled his eyes to heaven and thought.
‘Sixteen cousins, four uncles, eight aunts and a heap of lovely women I call kissin’ kin.’
McMasters said ‘I should of knowed it.’
Eighteen
They found Milton Draper three weeks and several hundred miles later. They also found a half-dozen hardcases who toted their guns in his service.
It was in the little sleepy town of San Rafael de Some-thing-or-other. The alcalde was a cousin twice removed of Blade and it was he who sent word to Blade who, with McMasters, was fruitlessly combing the hills to the west of town. An alcalde, by the way, is a Mexican equivalent of a mayor, magistrate and chief of police all rolled into one. Pablo Gomez Espada liked being all three rolled into one. It made him the biggest man around those parts and, as all Espadas knew right from wrong (or so they claimed), it seemed to him a just and excellent arrangement.
He sent the message by a beautiful niece, knowing that Blade would not fail to listen to a beautiful woman.
The young lady told him: ‘Tío Pablo says that this Draper is in San Rafael and there is with him some bad men and a very beautiful Yanqui lady.’
Blade said: ‘Is she as beautiful as yourself, nina?’
She smiled archly and asked: ‘Do you think that possible?’
‘Let us say that it would be very difficult.’
McMasters was all business. When he risked his life, he took the matter very seriously, A man was apt to, he said, when he only had one for the losing.
‘Tell me, guapa,’ he said, ‘exactly where this Draper is living and, if possible, where he keeps the gringa.’
‘That I can tell you,’ said Mercedes, ‘for the alcalde has used me as a spy on your behalf. I have to tell you every detail you may need.’
And this she proceeded to do and both her listeners were compelled to admire the extent of her observation and memory.
When the recital was ended, Blade asked: ‘And had the American lady suffered at all at the hands of these men?’
Mercedes said: ‘This girl, she means so much to you?’ Blade nodded.
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