Santa Fe Showdown

by Jory Sherman

  “Yes. You mentioned him. Charley Grimes.”

  “So, I’ve got those men trying to put lead in me, and Blackhawk on my trail. That’s why you have to go out on your own. Stay away from me.”

  “But I could help you, Lew. I bought that pistol. I carry it all the time.”

  He shook his head.

  “No, you can’t help. They’d kill you and never even bat an eye.”

  “I’m not afraid of them.”

  “I am. For you. Now, I’ve told you why you have to forget about me. I have to go through this alone, Marylynn. Please don’t get in my way.”

  “I won’t. But that doesn’t mean I have to leave you. I’ll wait for you. Until it’s all over and you come back.”

  He gave her a wry smile.

  “You’re a hard head, you know that?”

  “That’s what my daddy always said. He said I had grit.”

  “You got more than grit, Marylynn. You got a bad case of foolishness.”

  “Oh, pshaw, Lew. You say the sweetest things.”

  “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t make it any worse than it is. Now, tonight, I’m going out. I may not come back. If I don’t, you make your way in the world and forget you ever met me.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” she said.

  He got up from the table.

  “Suit yourself. Just don’t follow me tonight. Promise?”

  She hesitated.

  “Promise,” he ordered.

  “I promise,” she said, crossing one of her fingers in the hand that was in her lap. “I’ll stay right here.”

  When the sun started to go down, he strapped on his gunbelt, kissed Marylynn, and then was gone. He warned her one more time to stay there and told her that he would be back.

  But he wondered if he would return. He had to find out where Wayne Smith was, if he could. And to do that, he had to keep an eye on the Tecolote. He wouldn’t go in, but he’d see who came and went and follow any one of those four men who looked as if he were meeting up with Smith.

  It was a long shot, but it was the only one he had.

  Half an hour later, Lew tied his horse to a hitch rail one block away from the Tecolote. The sky had blazed for a long time behind the Sangre de Cristo range and was now dark as pitchblende, sprinkled with uncountable stars, the Milky Way a broad band of diamond dust and Venus winking brighter than any of them just above the horizon.

  Lew walked to the next street, where he could see the Tecolote and its glowing lamps. He stood in a dark shadow in the doorway of an adobe shop that sold Hopi and Navajo pottery, blankets, dolls, and trinkets. The front window was dusty and cast no reflection when he passed it and took up his position.

  He waited an hour, studying every man who entered or left the cantina. Finally, he saw Moon ride up and dismount. He came from the direction of the town center. Half an hour later, he saw Grimes ride in from another direction. Grimes dismounted and looked hard up and down the street. Lew stood stock-still and held his breath. Then, Grimes entered the saloon.

  Twenty minutes later, from the direction of El Rincon Hotel, Lew saw Baker, riding up at a brisk canter. Baker didn’t look around as Grimes had done, but tied up his horse and strode into the cantina as though he was in a hurry.

  Lew relaxed. He knew he might have to wait there all night before any of the four men left.

  He felt the evening chill come on and leaned against the adobe wall and the heavy door.

  Voices drifted from the cantina and he heard the clink of glasses. Other men came up and went inside, but none that he knew.

  Then, he heard the scrape of a boot and stiffened at the sound. It had come from his left, several yards away. If he leaned out he could see who was coming, but he would give his position away.

  His right hand floated downward, hovered over the butt of his pistol like a silent hawk holding to the wind.

  Silence.

  Then, a moment later, a crunching sound as if the person approaching had taken another step.

  Lew’s fingers closed around the Colt’s grip.

  Crunch. Scrape.

  He eased the pistol from its holster, rested his thumb on the hammer.

  “Don’t draw that Colt, Zane,” said a voice so close, it sent a shiver of electricity through Lew’s body.

  He knew the voice.

  He didn’t draw his pistol, but he eased it farther out of the holster and rubbed the hammer with his thumb.

  He waited.

  23

  ANOTHER CRUNCH OF GRAVEL UNDERFOOT, AND HORATIO Blackhawk loomed up out of the shadow, two feet from where Lew stood, his right hand gripping the butt of his Colt.

  “Evenin’, Lew,” Blackhawk said.

  Lew saw that the marshal wasn’t holding a pistol in his hand.

  “Mr. Blackhawk.”

  “You won’t need that pistol just yet, Lew. I’m not here to arrest you.”

  Lew didn’t move.

  “Unless you’re going to shoot me,” Blackhawk said.

  Lew couldn’t see Blackhawk’s face well, but an image of him smiling flashed in Lew’s mind. He released his grip on the pistol and drew in a breath as he relaxed.

  “No,” Lew said. “But…”

  “I saw your horse. Fact is, I saw you ride up. I tied mine right next to yours.”

  “But how…?”

  “I figured you were going to keep an eye on that cantina over there. Sure enough, here you are. Seems like we both got the same idea.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Blackhawk.”

  “Why don’t you call me Horatio, Lew? Forget the mister.”

  “All right. I still don’t know…”

  “Wayne Smith,” Blackhawk said.

  Lew stiffened at the mention of the name.

  “He got away, then,” Lew said.

  “Pretty dadgummed slick, you ask me,” Blackhawk said. “Pulled off a robbery in Denver, got clean away. Tracked him to right here in Santa Fe.”

  “You’ve seen him?”

  Blackhawk moved into the doorway with Lew, stood less than a foot from him. Now Lew could see his face from the dim light of the cantina. He was clean-shaven and smelled of lye soap and the faintest aroma of rosewater, as if he had been to a barber.

  “No, but he’s here.”

  “How come you’re not arresting me?” Lew asked.

  “I figure you and I have a mutual interest in Wayne Smith. I want him. I want him bad. Maybe as bad as you do.”

  “His men, some of them, anyway, are inside that cantina right now.”

  “You know who they are? That’s information I could use. Might buy you a little more freedom, Zane.”

  “How much freedom?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve got my hands full trying to catch Smith.”

  “He’s more important to you than I am,” Lew said.

  “At the moment, yes.”

  “All right.”

  Lew told him the names of the men inside the Tecolote, without elaborating on any of them.

  “That fits,” Blackhawk said. “I’ve spent a lot of the day tracking Freddie Moon, checking on him, and I’m beginning to put together a picture of what’s going on here in Santa Fe. I think I know why Smith came here. And who he’s going to rob. But I still need to find him.”

  “Moon just got here the other night, I think,” Lew said.

  “Yeah, he left for a few days. But for the past six or seven months, he’s been working for a big freighter here, and I think I know why.”

  “But you’re not going to tell me,” Lew said.

  “No. I can’t risk it right now. If I ever put it all together, I might fill you in, Lew. Right now, I’m mighty tempted to swear you in as a deputy U.S. marshal.”

  “Huh?”

  Blackhawk grinned.

  “But we get many temptations in life, don’t we?”

  “Why would you even think such an outlandish thing?”

  “Because I’m going to ask for your
help. Just for a day or two, maybe.”

  “My help?” Lew reared his head back in surprise.

  Two men rode up, dismounted, hitched their horses, and walked inside the Tecolote. Both Lew and Horatio looked at them, and then at each other. Both shook their heads.

  “Just a couple of drinking hands,” Blackhawk said.

  “I don’t recognize them, either. But let’s get back to what you were saying, Marsh—er, uh, Horatio.”

  “The way I see it, Smith didn’t ride into Santa Fe alone. The men who work for him are all criminals. They either were in jail back in Bolivar where he met them, or were in the prison where Smith’s father was a guard. There are a lot of them, and Smith knows how to use them. Those men take most of the chances, so Smith can operate. He’s the brains of the outfit.”

  “You know a lot about him,” Lew said.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “So what do you need me for?”

  “The territorial marshal is out of town. The police force here has its hands full. I want to flush Smith out, find out where he is, put him in irons if I can.”

  “And if you do?”

  “He’ll first stand trial in Pueblo for the murder of his wife and kids. Then he’ll be tried in Denver for the Horace Tabor robbery. After that, I don’t know. And I don’t care.”

  “Where do you think he is?” Lew asked.

  “He’s got a lot of silver with him. I figure he’ll convert that to cash, then carry out whatever crime brought him to Santa Fe. And I’ve got a strong hunch what he’ll go after.”

  “But that’s what you don’t tell me.”

  “That information could get you killed, Zane. Real quick like.”

  “All right. How do you plan to flush Smith out of hiding?”

  “I think Freddie Moon is acting kind of like a courier between Smith and those other men inside the Tecolote. You told me he came from town, and that the others are staying at El Rincon.”

  “Yeah, a couple of them are, at least. I don’t know where Grimes fits in, but he’s with them, all right. He wants to collect the reward on me, and now he’s probably shown that flyer to Smith and the others.”

  “So you’ve got a criminal posse chasing after you,” Blackhawk said.

  “A funny way to put it.”

  “It amounts to that.”

  “Yeah, from a lawman’s point of view, I reckon it does. It’s not funny to me. You’re enough posse for me right now, Horatio.”

  “Look, Lew, I think you’re getting the short end of the stick back in Arkansas. But I am sworn to do my duty, so I’m bound to take you back there. However, there’s no time limit on when I have to do that. So for now, I’m not a posse on your trail, all right?”

  “If you say so, Horatio.”

  “Look, I think Moon is giving orders to those other men in there. Orders from Wayne Smith. In a little while, he’ll be coming out and heading back to where Smith is holed up. I think it will take two of us to follow him. He’ll use these streets like a switchback and watch his backtrail. If he sees me following him, he’ll turn a corner, go to another street. He could do that all night and I’d never get him to go to Smith.”

  “He’s that smart?”

  “He’s that smart. But if we both work it right, he’ll never catch on.”

  “Two would be just as obvious as one, seems to me.”

  “Yeah, if we rode together. I have a different idea.”

  “I’m listening,” Lew said, his glance still on the batwing doors across the street.

  In the silence between them, there was only the sound of voices spilling out from the saloon, the switch of a horse’s tail, the stomp of a shod foot, or a pawing at the hitch ring, which sounded like someone clanging a horseshoe against an iron post, and the occasional rise and fall of laughter.

  “Say you give Moon a good lead when he leaves here. You run and get your horse, which should give him that much, and you stay on him until he turns a street. I’ll be on my horse, back far enough to see you, but too far for him to see me. He turns right, you give me a signal. I ride over to the next street and pick him up. Then, you get behind me and I follow him a ways until he turns again, then we switch.”

  “It might work,” Lew said.

  “It’s all I can think of. Does Moon know what you look like? Or does he know your horse?”

  “I don’t think so. Not in the dark. He’s probably seen my picture on that flyer. But my beard has grown out, and he’d be hard put to find my face in the dark.”

  “He doesn’t know me, either,” Blackhawk said. “But you go on over now and get your horse, ride back here, and tie up down at the far end of the street on the east end. Then I’ll bring my horse over and we’ll be ready to go.”

  “I’m game,” Lew said.

  “I’ll be here.” Blackhawk moved aside as Lew stepped out from the doorway. Lew walked briskly up the street, turned in at an opening between two buildings, then ran to the next street. He patted Ruben on the neck, unwrapped his reins, and climbed into the saddle. In moments, he was at the east end of the street. He dismounted and waited. He thought he saw Blackhawk slip away, but it was so dark he couldn’t be sure. He strained to keep an eye on the Tecolote, then realized he wouldn’t be able to tell much if anyone came out. Instead, he fixed his gaze on Moon’s horse, which was easier on his eyes.

  A few moments later he heard the soft thud of hoofbeats coming down the street behind him. He waited, and when they drew close, he turned and saw Blackhawk riding into view. He turned right and headed for the deep shadows on the opposite side of the street. He probably had a better view of the cantina than Lew did from that vantage point.

  The two men waited another fifteen minutes before anyone came out of the Tecolote.

  Two men, their arms around each other’s shoulders, staggered out onto the street and walked zig-zaggedly down the thoroughfare in the opposite direction. Five minutes later, a lone man emerged and stood to one side of the batwing doors, outside, looking both ways, up and down the street.

  Lew leaned against Ruben, patted his chest to keep him quiet. Ruben’s ears pricked up and swiveled toward the man outside the Tecolote.

  The man stepped away from the saloon and crossed the street.

  It was Moon.

  Lew held his breath as Moon mounted his horse, glanced Lew’s way without seeing him, and then headed west toward the center of town. Just before he got too far away to see, Lew climbed up in his saddle and headed the same way, holding Ruben to a walk.

  He didn’t look back. He knew Blackhawk would follow when he judged it to be safe. As he rode, he saw Moon, just the barest silhouette of him. He seemed in no hurry, as if he were riding slow just to catch somebody following him.

  They rode four blocks like that, Lew keeping the same distance between him and Moon, There was a soft glow in the sky from the lamps lighting the streets in downtown Santa Fe. He passed a few people out walking, a café that was still open, and another cantina called El Coronado, and still Moon held to his steady pace, riding on the right side of the thoroughfare.

  Then Moon turned right, two blocks from Lew.

  Lew turned and signaled to Blackhawk. He saw him turn right at a gallop and disappear in seconds, heading for the next street.

  A beggar emerged from the shadows, holding out his hand. He was wearing rags and a tattered straw hat, sandals on his dirty feet. A streetlamp lit him. Lew turned his horse away and heard the man curse him in Spanish.

  He rode one block past where he had seen Moon turn, and then he turned to the right.

  Blackhawk rode past at the next intersection, waved at Lew, then continued on. Lew took his time getting to the cross street. When he turned, he rode into light from streetlamps and saw them showing his way on both sides of the street. Two blocks beyond, he caught a glimpse of Blackhawk plodding along, and two blocks behind him, he saw a tiny figure on horseback that must be Freddie Moon.

  He kept his eyes on Blackhawk, in case he signal
ed that Moon had turned again, but five blocks farther on, the streets were brightly lit with gaslight lamps. Their halos swirled with moths and other flying insects. Young men and women strolled the plaza, and some were grouped around a grassy spot with a gazebo in the center. He could smell the aroma of beer and whiskey, saw other young men, bare-chested, sitting on benches, passing bottles back and forth.

  People streamed in all directions and, for a moment, Lew lost sight of Blackhawk. He stood up in the saddle, but he could no longer see Moon. He glanced to his right and saw a large hotel with trees planted outside and a canvas awning over a walkway. The sign read POSADO DEL RIO, and there, in front, he saw Moon’s horse tied to a hitch ring.

  No sign of Blackhawk.

  Lew halted Ruben and turned and looked around everywhere.

  “He went inside,” a voice said.

  Lew turned the other way and there was Blackhawk, the merest smirk on his face.

  “You scared the hell out of me, Horatio. Sneaking up on a man like that.”

  “I had to stay out of sight. I was over behind those bushes yonder, in them trees.”

  Lew saw them, to the far right of the hotel, a small grove, with bushes and what looked like date trees, but could have been box elder. He couldn’t tell because all of it was in shadow.

  “You saw Moon go in?”

  “Not only that, but Wayne Smith was outside, waiting for him. They walked in together.”

  Lew let out a breath.

  “Now what?” he said.

  “Now you earn your deputy’s pay. I’m going to have to swear you in, Lew.”

  “We’re going in after Smith?”

  “Sure as your daddy loved poke,” Blackhawk said, and smiled with a grin like a picket fence in the moonlight.

  24

  LEW LOWERED HIS RIGHT HAND AFTER INTONING THE WORDS, “So help me God.”

  “You’re duly sworn, Zane,” Blackhawk said. “Now, let’s tie up our horses and get inside that hotel.”

  “That was a short swearing in, Horatio.”

  “Yeah, and probably wasn’t legal.”

  “Not legal?”

  “No Bible, no flag, no justice of the peace or judge.”

  “That gives me a lot of comfort.”