by Ralph Cotton
When he reached the large double doors he peeped inside and saw the crew of Mexicans busy at work on the tall iron chimney. On the dirt floor beneath the chimney he saw a large furnace being assembled, its iron door big enough walk into in a crouch. A single armed rifleman sat dozing in a wooden chair leaned back against the wall. Beside the furnace three of the crewmen struggled with attaching a large bellows to an iron frame connected to the furnace’s side.
A smelter’s furnace? Yes . . . He stared for a moment, just letting the discovery sink in. This was how Jake Goshen and his gang were going to deal with the German gold coins. He had Hewes turning them back into untraceable, unidentifiable gold bullion. He looked all around but saw no sign of any gold.
The coins weren’t here yet, Shaw decided. If they were, Hewes would never have ridden away and left that much gold unguarded. Every man who worked for him would be right here, right now. Shaw would never have made it across the river without getting cut down by rifle fire.
There must have been an awful lot of gold stolen to make it worth their while to smelter it down and start all over, Shaw thought, watching the Mexicans labor on into the night, in the light of oil lanterns.
Coming here had answered a lot of questions for him, he told himself, easing away from the barn and back toward his waiting horse. It made sense now why there had been so many gold coins showing up lately. Jake Goshen had let enough gold leak out among a few flunkies to keep the law on both sides of the border chasing its tail. Now he must’ve decided it was time to deal with the bulk of it.
Hewes had had a stake in the big Mexican National Bank robbery. Just how big of a stake, Shaw had no idea; maybe Hewes’ only part of it was to smelter the gold down. But whatever Hewes had to do with the robbery, he would find out soon enough, Shaw told himself, unhitching the barb and stepping up into the saddle. It was time he found Dawson and Caldwell. Goshen and his men would be gathering here soon enough, gold and all. Handing this to Dawson and Caldwell would make up some for all the drinking he’d done.
Turning the barb, he gave it a light touch of his boot heels and sent it away from the hacienda at a slow, silent walk until he was well out of hearing range from the workers in the barn. Then he put the animal up into a gallop and headed back through the darkness toward the banks of Fire River.
Upon crossing the river and stepping down a moment to let the barb shake itself off, he stared down at hoofprints on the ground in the pale moonlight and gazed off toward the Edelman place—the place where Hewes had last seen him. This meant that Hewes had heard nothing yet about the three men Shaw had killed in town earlier that afternoon. If he had, he would have ridden straight to Banton.
Riding farther on, Shaw turned at the fork in the trail and continued following the same hoofprints until he stopped at a spot where the Edelman haceinda loomed black against the distant purple sky. He saw the glow of lamplight and firelight flickering in the side yard. But he noted that the house itself was dark except for a lamp that he watched move from window to window as someone carried it through the darkness.
“Let’s go, horse,” he said, giving the barb a tap of his boots. He put the horse up into a gallop across the low riding sand hills and kept the pace until he reined the animal down a hundred yards from the house.
He hitched the barb’s reins around a short, spiky bush and slipped forward quietly until he moved wide around the yard to the other side of the house. Using an empty rain barrel, he climbed up onto a low rear roof and worked his way from roof level to roof level. Finally he eased out onto a wide ledge and inched around it until he stood outside the half-open bedroom window.
From inside the bedroom Shaw head Lori Edelman speaking to Bowden Hewes. But rather than the voice of a woman being pursued and pressured by a man she had no use for, he heard a calm conversational tone that caused him to peep inside as if he didn’t believe his ears.
“This is all taking too long, Bo,” he heard Lori say, standing against Hewes, the two with their arms around each other.
“Everything was moving along just fine until the drifter showed up with Jonathan’s body,” Hewes replied into her neck as he nuzzled his face there. “Everything will still move along just fine. Quick Draw Vincent sent his man Finn to tell Jake to bring the gold on in to us. They’re waiting, not far from here. Meanwhile, I got something to take care of.”
Lori Edelman pulled back far enough to say to his face, “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re acting.”
“The way I’m acting?” Hewes paused, shook his head and said, “Look at it this way, darling. I wouldn’t have to kill him if you had sent him on his way, instead of bedding down with him.”
“I—I was lonely and you weren’t here for me. And I was more than a little angry and impatient with you, Bo,” she offered as if in her defense. “I still am impatient with you,” she added, stepping away from him altogether.
“But no longer lonely, I take it,” said Hewes, gesturing a hand toward the bed.
“Presently, no,” Lori said demurely, looking away from him with a trace of a smile. “I have found myself fulfilled for the time being.” She touched a hand to her hair. “The drifter was just what the doctor ordered,” she added in a teasing and suggestive tone. “You should thank him for taking care of me so well while you were gone to gather the smelting equipment.”
“I would kill any other woman for treating me this way,” Hewes said in a half growl, half laugh. He put his arms around her from behind and pressed her to him. “I don’t know what I want to do worse, wring your neck or make love to you until you scream. Seeing you with the drifter has made me crazy for you. Picturing the two of yas together here has stirred me into a frenzy.”
“Right now you’ll neither wring my neck nor make love to me,” she said confidently, wrestling free of him once again. “There’s gold to be melted down. Besides, I’m still angry with you over Jonathan’s body. You said you’d take good care of things, that he’d never be found. I’d never have to think about him again.” She motioned toward the window, the yard lying below. “I have to see his grave every day, every time I look out the window.”
“Once we’re through, you can have him dug up and moved out of sight,” said Hewes.
“Yes, I suppose I can have that done,” she said, stepping away from him as he tried coming near her again from behind. “It would look bad doing it now. But as soon as we’re finished with the gold, it must be done.”
“But you’re not going to be here after we finish with the gold,” said Hewes, stopping, giving up on gaining any affection right now.
“Oh yes, that’s right. I almost forgot,” Lori said playfully. “You’ll be taking me to Paris as soon as we have our share of the gold.” She smiled and became receptive of him. She stepped over to him, took his wrists and placed his arms around her waist.
Shaw had seen enough. He pulled his eyes away from the window as the two moved closer to the big bed. He heard the wooden bed frame give out a muffled squeak as he inched back along the ledge and eased away along the roofline.
Once on the ground, he crept along in a crouch until he’d made his way past the gathering of men sitting, eating and drinking at the long table in the yard. Raul’s mother-in-law, Juanita, hurried about with a platter of food and drink in her hands.
When Shaw stood back beside the speckled barb in the purple darkness, he took up the reins to the horse and looked back toward the glowing lamplight in the bedroom window as a hand trimmed it down. “It figures . . . ,” Shaw said quietly to himself, thinking about the exchange he’d just witnessed taking place between Lori Edelman and Bowden Hewes.
That was what had been missing between him and the widow; she hadn’t cared anything about him, and he must’ve sensed it in spite of all her efforts. He stepped up into the saddle and turned the barb quietly. All she had done was use him to keep Hewes jealous and off balance in his attempt to accommodate her.
This was all about t
he gold; Shaw had merely stumbled into the right place at the right time, a drunk trying to finish sobering himself up. While every lawman on both sides of the border had been riding their horses into the ground chasing down leads, he had wandered the desert, only to find himself lying in the grateful arms of a woman whose brother-in-law and lover was connected to the gold thieves he and Dawson and Caldwell were searching for.
So be it . . . Nothing like a little blind luck now and then to let a man know he’s on top of his game, he told himself, riding on.
In the middle of the night Thomas Finn had split away from Vincent and Hewes and the rest of the armed riders. He’d ridden on as quickly as he could across the rolling sand hills and up into the jagged rocks of the low hills northwest of Banton. When he caught sight of a small campfire glowing beneath a rock overhang, he slowed his horse and veered over long enough to investigate.
“Whoa,” he murmured to himself, looking at the tired, shadowed faces huddled around the small fire. He recognized the Mexican lawman, Juan Facil Lupo, Maynard Lilly and the three bounty hunters, Iron Head, Merle Oates, and Bobby Freedus. “Easy John Lupo riding with bounty killers,” he whispered under his breath.
His right hand went instinctively to the butt of a big Remington holstered across his belly. He drew the gun, but he had no intention of using it, not here, not now. Knowing the fierce reputation of every man gathered there, he eased backward at a crouch, mounted his horse and rode away as quietly as he could.
A half hour later, at a spot beside a towering chimney rock, he stopped on the thin trail and called out to the hillside lying before him. “It’s me, Finn, don’t shoot!” he said, loud enough to be heard and hopefully have his voice recognized before a volley of gunfire exploded toward him.
A gruff voice called out from the black-shadowed hillside, “What’s the secret word?”
“The secret word? Hold on, fellows!” Finn froze for a moment, then said in a shaky voice, “Hell, nobody told me any secret word.”
He heard a rifle hammer cock. He started to turn his horse and bolt away. But a dark laugh came from the shadows. “There’s no secret word, Finn. Get yourself on up here,” the voice said.
“Yeah, that was real funny, Claude,” Finn said in a tight voice.
A gunman named Claude Martin rose from behind a rock and stepped forward, barely visible until he stopped a few feet away from Finn. “I’m just following orders, Tommy,” he said. “But you ought to have heard yourself. You sounded like you spilled water in your saddle.”
“My saddle’s dry,” Finn said in a prickly tone, stepping down from atop his horse and leading it along beside the rifleman. “Whose orders were you following, anyway?”
“Jake’s orders,” said the rifleman. “The only ones I ever follow.”
“Is Jake still nervous over having all this gold out in the open?” Finn asked.
From the blackened hillside Jake Goshen said in low growl, “I don’t get nervous, Finn, I get mad. You want to see what mad looks like on me?”
“Sorry, Jake,” said Finn, “I meant nothing by it. I’ve just a big stupid mouth sometimes.”
“Yeah?” said Goshen, stepping forward, three men surrounding him. “Then you best start using it right now. What’s going on with Hewes? Is it safe riding in with the gold?”
Finn made sure he shifted any responsibility for what he had to say over to Dean Vincent. “Quick Draw said to tell you to come on ahead. Everything is getting set up and ready to go.”
Jake Goshen stared at him in the pale light of the moon. “You don’t sound real sure of yourself, Tommy,” he said.
“I’m telling you what he said for me to tell you, Jake,” said Finn.
“What’s going on there, Tommy?” Goshen reached out a gloved hand to Finn’s shoulder and squeezed. “I want to know why you’re passing this thing off to Vincent.”
“Here’s the thing of it,” Finn said. “On my way here, I come across the camp of Easy John Lupo and the Scotsman. They’re traveling with those bounty hunters who work for the Mexican government.”
“Those sonsabitches,” said Goshen, “they’ve got no business over here.” He frowned. “Did they see you? Which way are they headed?”
“No, they didn’t see me,” said Finn. “I can swear to that. They look to be traveling the hill trail toward Banton.”
“All right, they’ll be no problem for us so long as we know they’re around,” said Goshen. “What else?”
“There’s been some trouble between Hewes and his men and some drifter who brought Doc Edelman’s body back from the desert hills. Since this bummer showed up, it seems he’s been poking the doc’s widow. He beat the hell out of one of Hewes’ top gunmen and killed three more when Hewes sent them after him.”
Goshen gave a puzzled look at the men gathered around him. “You’re saying one drifter has done all this?” He held up a gloved finger for emphasis.
“That’s what Hewes says, just one,” Finn answered with a shrug.
“Damn . . .” Goshen considered the matter. Finally he gave a laugh under his breath. “I wonder if he’s looking for work.” He gave a smile all around to the men. His teeth glistened through his thick black beard.
Finn gave a short laugh of relief. “That’s sort of what Vincent said when Hewes told us.” He turned more serious. “But Hewes didn’t find it so funny. Anyway, Vincent said he’d ride with Hewes and get rid of the man, so’s we won’t have to worry about anything going wrong.”
“That was good thinking on Vincent’s part,” said Goshen. “It leaves him there where he can keep an eye on things for us.” He gave another flashing grin. “It looks like Banton’s going to be a hot spot, what with Mexican bounty hunters and lawmen crawling all over town. Lucky for us we’ll be laying low at Hewes’ place while we melt our gold down. Once it’s melted down, there ain’t a way in hell anybody can prove it’s stolen.”
Chapter 19
In the middle of the night Lawrence Shaw stepped down from the speckled barb’s saddle at the edge of town and walked the tired horse the rest of the way to the livery barn. From inside an empty store, where they had taken up a lookout for Shaw’s comings and goings, Wilbur Wallick watched man and horse walk in and out of the glow of oil pot fires set up at five-yard intervals along the dirt street.
When Shaw and the speckled barb drew close enough to be recognized, Wallick eased over to where Anson lay sleeping on a blanket on the dusty floor. Mean Myra lay sleeping against him. The big gunman shook Anson roughly by his shoulder. “Wake up, Anson. He’s back,” Wallick whispered. “He’s headed this way right now!”
Anson came awake with a start. “Jesus, Wilbur, take it easy,” he said in a cross tone. Myra stirred beside him.
“You said wake you when I see him,” Wilbur said in an excited whisper.
“I didn’t say yank my arm out of the socket,” said Anson.
“Did I do wrong?” Wilbur asked dully.
Anson struggled to his feet, snatched his rifle from against the wall and stumbled to the dirty window. Myra stood up and slapped dust from her coat and shook out her hair. Outside Anson and Wallick saw Shaw moving along on foot. “No, Wilbur,” he said with a sly little grin, “you did just right.” He levered a bullet into his rifle chamber and cocked the hammer.
“Are you going to shoot him right now?” Wallick asked, sounding excited.
“Oh yes. It’s time I put this sonsabitch down once and for all,” said Anson. “Get Myra over here where she can see it.”
“I’m here,” said Myra in a lowered tone. “Get to it.”
“Wait, there’s somebody coming!” said Wallick as Anson started to slide the rifle barrel out through a broken windowpane.
“Damn it!” Anson stopped and looked in the other direction along the dirt street. He uncocked the rifle and lowered it.
“I thought you were going to shoot him,” Myra said, clearly disappointed. “Did you freeze up?”
“Yeah, I thought you w
as going to shoot him too,” said Wilbur.
“Shut up, Wilbur, and pay attention here,” Anson whispered, ignoring Myra’s question.
Stepping out of a dark shadow into the flickering light of an oil pot, Jane Crowly called out to Shaw in a hushed and guarded voice, “Lawrence, wait up. I’ve got to tell you something. Don’t go in there! It might be a trap.” She gestured toward the livery barn looming behind the row of buildings as she hurried across the street.
“Slow down, Miss Jane,” Shaw warned, stopping and staring at her.
She skidded to a halt in front of him, her hands chest high. “I might have made a big mistake, Lawrence. On the trip back here I went and blabbed my mouth about you to a couple of men claiming to be lawmen.”
“Claiming to be lawmen?” Shaw looked past her at the saloon where her freight wagon sat at a hitch rail. Then he looked toward the livery barn. “And they’re in there waiting for me?”
“Hear that, you all?” Anson said to the other two, listening through the broken window. “This sonsabitch is wanted!” He raised the rifle to his shoulder and cocked it again. “Anything coming for his hide is ours.”
“So shoot him,” Mean Myra coaxed.
Wallick watched Anson take aim in rapt fascination. His brow twitched in anticipation of the gunshot. But instead of firing, Anson listened as Jane went on. “Yes they are. They said they’re looking to meet up with you.” She stared toward the livery barn with him. “I say lurking in the dark is no polite and proper way to meet a man.”
“What do they look like?” Shaw asked, already having a pretty good hunch who the two were.
“They said they’re the two lawmen that was sent to clear out the outlaws along the border. One is a tall fellow like yourself, and the other is shorter and dressed like a dude. He wears gloves with the fingers cut off, like some damn chimney sweeper. Claims he’s the one they call the Undertaker.”
