Ralph Compton Big Jake's Last Drive

by Robert J. Randisi

  “I’ve stitched the wound closed,” the doctor told Taco, who stood up. “He should spend the next week in bed, but he’s explained to me why he can’t.”

  “Anythin’ I should know?” the sheriff asked.

  “No, Carson,” the doctor said.

  The sheriff shrugged and set up both sides of the checkerboard for another game.

  “Thanks, Doctor,” Jake said. “I feel better already.”

  He and Taco stepped outside.

  “Let’s find the others and get back on the trail,” Jake said.

  “Señor, can we stop for a beer?”

  “Sure,” Jake said. “After we find the others.”

  “And how about a new shirt, señor?” Taco asked. “That one is very bloody.”

  * * *

  * * *

  They saw Dundee’s and Curly’s horses in front of a saloon, and found them at the bar, having a beer. Jake was already wearing his new clean shirt.

  “There they are!” Dundee said as they walked in. “How’s the shoulder, Jake?”

  “The doc fixed it up. We figured to have a beer and then get back on the trail. Looks like you beat us to it.”

  “Bartender!” Curly yelled. “Beers for my friends.”

  When the barman put them down Taco grabbed his and drained half of it gratefully. Jake had a feeling Dundee and Curly were on more than their second.

  “Let’s finish these and get goin’,” he said, sipping his. “Did you find me a new saddle?”

  “Not in this town,” Curly said. “The one you’ve got is actually better than anythin’ we saw here.”

  “Fine,” Jake said. “I’ll make do.”

  “Jake,” Dundee said, “don’t you think you oughta take at least one night in a real bed?”

  “I wanna get this over with, Dundee,” Jake said. “I’m thinkin’ if we keep goin’ we’ll catch up to him in San Antonio. But if you fellas want a night in a hotel bed, don’t let me stop you.”

  “No,” Dundee said, putting his beer down, “we’re with ya, Jake. Finish your beer and we’ll get goin’.”

  “We bought some more beans and coffee,” Curly said.

  “So we’re set.”

  “What happened at the doc’s?” Dundee asked.

  “Taco played checkers with the local sheriff while the sawbones patched me up,” Jake said.

  “The law?” Curly said, looking at Taco. “What did he have to say?”

  “‘King me,’” Taco said, “a lot.”

  * * *

  * * *

  They finished their beers, mounted up, and rode out of Beckett, with Jake in much better shape. When they camped that night he sat at the fire with them, ate beans, and took a two-hour watch. The next day they bypassed an even smaller town than Beckett, because the trail left by Jake’s sorrel went right past it.

  That night when they camped Jake took the time to clean his rifle and pistol, making sure they were in good working order. He figured they would make San Antonio the next day, and there would sure as hell be more gunplay.

  “We’re gonna lose the trail as we ride in,” Dundee said. “The streets of San Antone are pretty busy.”

  “Taco’ll do his best,” Jake said. “All we need to know is if he rode into town.”

  “And then just where do we start lookin’ for him?” Curly asked.

  “Hotels,” Jake said, “liveries, saloons . . . and whorehouses.”

  “You think he’s got hisself a destination in mind?” Dundee asked.

  “Seems to me he made a split-second decision back there,” Jake said.

  “And that was?” Curly asked.

  “That Seaforth Bailey wasn’t the man he thought he was,” Jake said, “and he sure as hell wasn’t worth dyin’ for. But now I think he’s driftin’.”

  “And not runnin’,” Dundee said.

  “If he thought he was gonna hafta run, he woulda killed me,” Jake said.

  “I still don’t understand why he didn’t,” Dundee said, shaking his head.

  “Well,” Jake said, “maybe when we catch up to ’im you can ask ’im . . . before I kill ’im.”

  * * *

  * * *

  As they had expected, the sorrel’s trail led right into San Antonio. And as Dundee had predicted, there it was gobbled up by the tracks left by other horses, mules, oxen, and wagons.

  They rode down Commerce Street, which ran parallel to the San Antonio River. The street was lined with shops, saloons, cafés, and hotels. San Antonio’s infamy stemmed from the fact that the Battle of the Alamo took place outside of town in 1836, when 189 men, barricaded in the Alamo Mission, fought for independence from Mexico against 5,000 of Santa Ana’s men, who defeated them and killed them all. But this was of no interest or concern to Jake and the others as they entered town. Their only concern was finding the man Seaforth had called Teddy Garfield.

  They stopped at a livery to put up their horses, and questioned the hostler about strangers arriving over the past couple of days. Of course, it was too much to ask that Garfield might have boarded his horse at the same place.

  They left the livery and stopped at the nearest hotel, called the River House.

  They got three rooms, one for Jake, one for Taco, and one for Dundee and Curly. As they went up the stairs to the second floor Curly asked. “What if he didn’t stop?”

  They hesitated halfway up, the other three turning to look at him.

  “I mean, what if he came here, had a meal and a beer, maybe a poke, and then kept goin’?”

  “If he did that,” Jake said, “this hunt is gonna take a lot longer. But I’m thinkin’ now that he’s on his own, without Seaforth, without the raiders, he’s gonna wanna set a spell and figure out his next move.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Curly said.

  As they started back up the stairs, Jake was hoping he was right, too.

  * * *

  * * *

  After they left their gear in their rooms, they all went down to the hotel dining room, where they had steak dinners. While eating, Jake explained that he thought they should split up.

  “We’ll cover more ground that way,” he explained. “If we don’t locate him tonight, we’ll keep lookin’ tomorrow. If we don’t find him then, we’ll have to figure our next move.”

  “The only problem with that is,” Dundee said, “you’re the only one who knows what he looks like.”

  “I know what he looks like,” Taco said. “I saw him when they had me in Three Rivers.”

  “Hey, that’s right,” Dundee said. “So you and Jake both saw him.”

  “Okay,” Jake said, “we’ll split into twos, then. Taco, you take Dundee, and Curly, you come with me. I could describe him to you, but there’s bound to be a dozen men in this town who look like him.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Dundee said.

  “And if you boys see him,” Jake said, to Taco and Dundee, “don’t approach ’im. Don’t let him know he’s been spotted. Just come and find me and Curly.”

  “And then we’ll take ’im?” Curly asked.

  “And then I’ll take ’im,” Jake said. “I owe this to Chance, and I’m gonna do it myself. Is that understood?”

  Dundee shrugged.

  “As long as it’s man-to-man, I don’t have a problem with that,” he said. “My only problem was when he had the backin’ of the raiders.”

  “Sí, señor,” Taco said. “Mano a mano it shall be.”

  “You bet it will,” Jake said.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  They left the hotel and split up, deciding Jake and Curly would take liveries and hotels while Taco and Dundee searched saloons and whorehouses.

  “Why do they get the saloons and whorehouses?” Curly complained.

  “
Because Taco doesn’t get drunk, and he’s got a wife in Mexico.”

  “Really? A wife? He never mentioned her.”

  “He doesn’t like to talk about it,” Jake said. “She has a big family, which is why he tries to stay away as often as he can.”

  “Well, Dundee likes to drink and whore,” Curly said.

  “That’s why I sent him with Taco,” Jake said. “That little Mex will keep him on the right track.”

  “And you’ll do the same for me?” Curly asked.

  “That’s right,” Jake said. “You two are young men, with the urges of young men.”

  “Well,” Curly said, “we can control ourselves until this is all over.”

  Jake patted Curly on the shoulder and said, “That’s good to hear.”

  * * *

  * * *

  Jake and Curly went to three liveries, and six hotels, without finding any sign of Teddy Garfield. As it started to get dark, Jake decided they should return to their hotel and see if Taco and Dundee were there.

  “Wait,” Curly said. “What about that place?”

  Jake looked in the direction Curly was pointing. Because it was dark the city’s lights had been ignited, and the hotels and saloons that were still open were not well lit. The one they were looking at in particular was almost incandescent.

  “That looks like the kind of place anybody visitin’ this town would want to go to.”

  “Taco and Dundee are supposed to be checking saloons,” Jake pointed out, “but let’s take a look, anyway.”

  As they approached they saw a sign up on top of the two-story building that read the Crockett Saloon, Casino, and Show Palace.

  The word “casino” came from the Italian word for house, casa. Casino meant “little house.”

  When they got to the front entrance they could hear the music from inside, and the sound of men yelling. As they entered they saw girls dancing on a stage in front of the huge, brightly lit room. Crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling added to the brightness as they reflected the light from the large hanging lamps.

  “This place is pretty modern!” Curly shouted.

  “Yeah,” Jake called back, “the lamps look electric.”

  There seemed to be dozens of tables set up with customers, men who were shouting at the girls onstage as they kicked up their heels and hiked up their skirts.

  Off to the left was a long bar with men leaning against it, holding their drinks and watching the action onstage. Off to the right was a doorway with a red sign above it that read casino.

  Jake studied the men at the bar, saw that none of them was Garfield. He could have been sitting at a table, watching the girls dance, but there didn’t seem to be any tables occupied by a lone man, and Jake doubted Garfield had been in San Antonio long enough to make friends. Of course, he could have come there to meet up with somebody, but Jake doubted he’d had the time to set that up.

  “Let’s go in the casino,” he said, putting his mouth near Curly’s ear. “It’ll be quieter.”

  Curly nodded, and they walked to the door under the red sign. It was an open doorway, but already it seemed quieter.

  Jake looked around, saw every gaming table possible, with roulette, blackjack, faro, poker, dice. He could hear the chips on the tables, and the sound of the white ball bouncing around on the roulette wheel.

  He started to walk around the room, with Curly following, staying near the wall as he looked at table after table.

  “Sonofabitch,” he breathed. He stopped walking and Curly almost ran into him.

  “What?” the younger man asked.

  “That blackjack table, with the girl dealin’,” Jake said.

  “A girl dealer,” Curly said. “What’s next?”

  “Not the girl,” Jake said. “The man on the second seat from the left.”

  “Is that him?” Curly asked.

  “That’s him,” Jake said. “That’s Garfield.”

  It was the man who’d had him under his gun, and hadn’t pulled the trigger. Instead, he’d left him there to have it out with Seaforth.

  “So whadda we do?” Curly asked. “You wanna walk over there and shoot ’im?”

  “We do that, we end up in jail,” Jake said. “I want ’im, but I don’t wanna go to jail for it.”

  “Well,” Curly said, “we could walk up to him, stick a gun in his back, and walk him outside.”

  “Somebody’ll see us,” Jake said, “or he’ll force a shoot-up in here, where innocent people could get hurt.”

  “So whadaya wanna do?”

  “What we’ve been doin’,” Jake said. “Follow him. You stay here and follow him out.”

  “Where are you gonna be?”

  “Outside,” Jake said. “I don’t wanna take a chance of him seein’ me.”

  “Got it,” Curly said. “I’ll see you outside.”

  “Right.” Jake started to walk away.

  “How long are we gonna wait?” Curly asked quickly.

  “As long as it takes,” Jake said.

  * * *

  * * *

  Jake considered waiting in the saloon and show palace for Garfield to come out, but he hadn’t noticed if there was another way out of the casino. So instead, he went out to the street. The front of the Alamo was well lit, and there was indeed another door farther down for the casino. Jake crossed the street and found a darkened doorway from where he could wait and watch.

  The street was fairly busy, even though it was after hours and all the shops were closed. But there were enough saloons to keep men walking on the boardwalk and crossing the streets. Occasionally someone would ride in, in search of fun or frolic. There was a group of horses in front of the show palace.

  Jake realized if one of the horses belonged to Garfield, they would lose him if he mounted up—unless Jake stole a horse and followed him. But hopefully, the man was a walk away from whatever hotel he was staying in.

  He’d been dead serious when he told Curly they would wait as long as it took. It was a good two hours before Garfield appeared in front of the door of the casino. He was cooperative enough to pause and light a cigarette, adding illumination to his face, so Jake could properly identify him.

  He could have shot the man from hiding, but then Garfield wouldn’t know what hit him. And he wanted the man to know who was killing him, and why.

  As he feared, Garfield started walking toward a group of horses that were tied to a hitching post. Jake was not going to be able to follow him to wherever he was staying. He was going to have to move now.

  He stepped from his doorway and crossed the street as Garfield reached the horses and began to reach for one. That was when Jake saw the sorrel in their midst. At the same time, Curly came out the casino door, and several men exited the show palace, which meant there would be witnesses.

  That was a good thing.

  Jake moved his pistol from his holster to his belt before stepping into the street.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Garfield! Hold it right there!”

  Jake’s voice was loud enough to attract the attention of the men who had just left the palace. The three of them stopped and stared.

  Garfield stopped and turned toward the voice. When he saw Jake he stiffened momentarily, then seemed to relax.

  “I don’t believe it,” he said. “Is that you, Big Jake?”

  “It’s me.”

  Garfield was standing in the bright light given off by the show palace. Jake was in the shadows in the street. He could see Garfield’s gun also tucked into his belt.

  Jake knew that a gun battle between two men usually resulted in an exchange of fire with most of the lead landing harmlessly in a wall, or breaking some glass and bottles in a saloon, or occasionally hitting an innocent bystander before one of the men finally struck home with a shot. T
he days of civilized duels, with men standing back to back, taking ten paces, and then exchanging a single shot, were long gone.

  This threatened to be a mess, but at least there were only the three men watching, and Curly, who had come down from the casino doors.

  “You kill Seaforth?” Garfield asked.

  “I did. I put a hole in him. But not before he told me it was you who shot my friend.”

  “On his order,” Garfield said. “Did he tell you that?”

  “It don’t matter,” Jake said. “You put a bullet in my friend’s chest.”

  Garfield grinned.

  “And it was a helluva shot, wasn’t it?”

  Jake didn’t answer.

  “And what about you, Big Jake?’ Garfield asked. “How’s your shoulder?”

  “Fine,” Jake said. “Got it seen to good and proper by a sawbones.”

  “Hmm,” Garfield said, “guess that’s why you’re looking better than the last time I saw you.” The man looked around. “You alone? Or you got backing?”

  “This is between you and me, Garfield,” Jake said. “Nobody else.”

  “Then I’m not going to get one in the back?”

  “Only if you run from me, like a coward.”

  “And what are you planning here, Jake?” Garfield asked. “A dime novel shoot-out in the street?”

  One of the three men stuck his head back in the palace door, shouted, and more people began to appear. Now there were plenty of witnesses to this fight being fair.

  Curly leaned against a post to watch, his hand on the gun in his belt. Jake hoped the young man would be able to resist getting involved.

  “This ain’t a dime novel, Garfield,” Jake said. “This is real life.”

  “That it is, Big Jake, that it is,” Garfield said, “and in real life, you don’t have a prayer against me.”

  “I tell you what, Garfield,” Jake said. “I’m gonna figure that since you’re such a good shot with a rifle, you probably can’t hit a thing with a handgun.”