Those Jensen Boys!

by William W. Johnstone

  Chance added, “Whatever problem you’ve got with Eagleton is your business.”

  Ace picked up the shotgun, Chance scooped Wheeler’s Colt off the bed, and they backed off to cover Wheeler and the still stunned Tanner.

  Ace asked Buckhorn, “Where are you going, anyway?”

  “This room’s fixing to be a little more crowded,” the gunfighter replied. “We’re gonna have us a little come-to-Jesus meeting.”

  Buckhorn locked the door behind him when he left. Emily turned immediately to the window and said, “We can get out of here—”

  “Wait,” Ace told her. “You heard Buckhorn. If you want this thing with Eagleton to end, your best bet might be to play along with him. He’s gone down a path where he can’t turn back.”

  “I agree,” Chance said. “We talked before about letting the hand play out, Emily. My gut tells me this is the time to do it.”

  She glared at them, then sighed. “All right. You may both be loco, but you’ve had pretty good ideas so far. Just don’t make me regret it.”

  Buckhorn tried the knob on the door of Eagleton’s suite, turning it carefully so that it made no noise. The door was locked. That didn’t matter. He had a key, although Eagleton didn’t know that. The gunslinger had always figured that in order to properly do his job as the man’s bodyguard, he ought to be able to get into the suite any time, day or night.

  He slipped the key into the lock and turned it slowly enough that the tumblers made only the faintest click as they came free.

  When he swung the door open, the two people in the sitting room had no warning that he was there until he said, “Hello, boss. Rose.”

  No more Miss Demarcus.

  They were drinking brandy by the sideboard. Eagleton spilled some of his as he jerked around and roared, “Buckhorn! What are you doing here? Get back over there with those—” He stopped abruptly and glanced at Rose.

  As usual, she was much more cool and self-possessed. If she was surprised by Buckhorn’s entrance, she wasn’t going to show it.

  “With those what, boss?” Buckhorn asked mockingly. “Those people you had kidnapped when trying to kill them over and over didn’t work?”

  “Shut up,” Eagleton said, scowling. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about,” Rose said, “but I’d like to. Joe, does this have something to do with all that shooting in town earlier this evening?”

  “It has everything to do with it,” Buckhorn said. “You two are coming with me. You can see for yourself, Rose. You can see what Eagleton’s been doing and what sort of man he really is.”

  Spittle flew from Eagleton’s mouth as he roared, “You’re fired, you filthy redskin!”

  “Too late for that,” Buckhorn said, smiling thinly. “I’ve already quit.” He motioned with the gun in his hand. “Now come on, both of you.”

  “You don’t need the gun for me,” Rose murmured. “I very much want to know what this is all about.”

  Buckhorn backed through the open door into the hall and gestured for them to follow him. As they did, Buckhorn saw something from the corner of his eye.

  At the landing where the stairs from the lobby ended, Marshal Jed Kaiser from Bleak Creek had just appeared. The lawman stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he saw Buckhorn holding the gun on Eagleton.

  “Marshal, stop this Indian!” Eagleton cried. “He’s gone crazy!”

  Kaiser fumbled, trying to sweep his coat aside and claw his gun from its holster. He had no chance before he was looking down the barrel of Buckhorn’s Colt.

  “Don’t do it, Marshal,” Buckhorn warned. “I’ll kill you if I have to.” A thought occurred to him. “Anyway, you ought to come with us. Somebody’s about to confess to a crime. A whole heap of crimes, in fact.”

  “What are you talking about?” Kaiser had moved his hand away from his gun.

  Buckhorn pointed at Eagleton with his chin. “He’s got a lot he wants to get off his chest.”

  Eagleton growled curses.

  Buckhorn ignored him. He turned so that he could cover both Eagleton and Kaiser and backed toward the door of the next room. “All of you come with me,” he ordered.

  Desperately, Eagleton said to Rose, “Don’t believe a word this man says. He’s insane, I tell you.”

  “I think I can judge that for myself, Samuel,” she replied, still cool and deliberate.

  Buckhorn reached the door and said, “Marshal, come over here and take the key out of my pocket and unlock this door. Please don’t try any tricks.”

  “I don’t believe I will,” Kaiser said in his usual stuffed-shirt manner. “I’m as curious as this . . . young woman here . . . to find out what this is all about.”

  Buckhorn didn’t like the disapproving tone in the marshal’s voice when he mentioned Rose, but he was willing to let that pass.

  Kaiser was true to his word. He didn’t try anything as he took the key from Buckhorn’s coat pocket and unlocked the door.

  Buckhorn stepped back and motioned with the revolver’s barrel for the others to go first. “It’s going to be a little crowded in there, but this shouldn’t take long.”

  Ace heard what Buckhorn said, and the gunfighter was right. With eleven people in the room, the place was cramped. Brian Corcoran lay on the rug, still unconscious, as did Jacob Tanner, and that cut down on the available space.

  With guns in their hands, the Jensen brothers stood in front of Bess and Emily, in the far corner next to the bed. Wheeler was on the other side of the bed.

  The first man through the door was Kaiser, who paused and exclaimed, “My prisoners! My God, Marshal Wheeler, you released them? I trusted you!”

  Wheeler shrugged. “You might have made a mistake there, Jed.”

  Eagleton was next, red-faced and seething, followed by a very attractive brunette in a bottle-green gown that flattered her figure.

  Buckhorn came last and heeled the door closed behind him. “All right. All the players involved in this little drama are assembled at last.”

  Always the bold one, Emily said, “Except for poor Nate. You killed him and had his body dumped out of town, remember?”

  “What?” Kaiser exclaimed.

  Buckhorn signed, but kept his gun ready. “Just let me tell this.”

  Over the next few minutes, as he laid out the affair from start to finish, it became apparent just who he was telling it to. He directed all of it to the brunette, who listened with her lovely face remaining impassive. He didn’t know all the details because he hadn’t been around for all of it, but the gunfighter did a pretty good job of sketching in the big picture . . . and left no doubt where the blame for everything in his story fell—squarely at the feet of Samuel Eagleton, who was growing more and more apoplectic as Buckhorn talked.

  Finally, Buckhorn said, “Now you know what sort of man Eagleton really is, Rose.”

  “Is that why you’ve done all this, Joe?” she asked quietly. “To show me the truth?”

  “That’s right. I thought maybe if you knew about all the blood on his hands you’d feel differently about him. I thought maybe you . . . that you . . .”

  “That I’d have feelings for you, instead?”

  Buckhorn didn’t answer, just stared at her.

  “Joe, I already knew what sort of man Samuel is.” She leaned forward. “He’s a rich man. And he’s going to be even richer. Why do you think I got involved with him in the first place? As for hoping that I might turn on him and take you instead . . . you stupid ’breed. I was never doing anything but making fun of you.” Her hand came up from a fold in her dress and flame spat from the muzzle of the little derringer as she fired it into Buckhorn’s chest at close range.

  At the same time, Jacob Tanner surged up from the floor, having regained consciousness without anyone noticing while Buckhorn was talking. Tanner clubbed a fist into Kaiser’s face and snatched the marshal’s gun from its holster. He whirled toward the Jensen brot
hers and fired. The slug whipped between Ace and Chance and shattered the window behind them.

  Moving with surprising speed and grace for a big man, Wheeler bounded onto the bed and leaped across it, tackling Ace. The shotgun Ace held boomed as it discharged one of its barrels into the ceiling and he and the marshal fell into the narrow space between the bed and the wall as they struggled.

  Chance crouched and fired at Tanner before the railroad man could get off a second shot. The slug lanced into Tanner’s chest and turned him halfway around, but he managed to pull the trigger again, striking Rose Demarcus between the shoulder blades, making her arch her back and cry out.

  Eagleton shouted, “Rose!”

  Chance fired again, drilling Tanner in the forehead. The man’s head jerked back as the bullet bored through his brain and exploded out the back of his skull. He dropped, dead before he hit the floor.

  On top of Ace, pinning him to the floor with his weight, Wheeler tried to wrestle the shotgun away. The weapon still had one shell in it.

  With limited space to maneuver, Ace twisted the barrels until both of them were shoved up under Wheeler’s chin and fumbled for the trigger.

  Realizing that he was about to get his head blown completely off his shoulders, Wheeler cried out in panic and jerked away.

  That brought him within reach of Emily Corcoran, who grabbed the empty chamber pot from under the bed and smashed it down on his head. Ace followed that with a stroke from the shotgun’s stock. The butt crashed into Wheeler’s jaw, breaking the bone and knocking him out cold. He fell forward onto Ace again.

  “Get him off me!” Ace shouted, his voice muffled by Wheeler’s chest pressed into his face.

  Chance and Emily grabbed the back of Wheeler’s coat and hauled the unconscious lawman up, then let him sprawl on the floor. Ace scrambled to his feet in time to see Eagleton swinging up the gun that Buckhorn had dropped when Rose shot him.

  “She’s dead!” the mining magnate screamed. “She’s dead and it’s all your fault!” He jerked the trigger and the bullet would have hit Emily if Bess hadn’t grabbed her just in time and dived out of the line of fire.

  Eagleton was about to fire again when Ace touched off the shotgun’s second barrel. The load of buckshot tore into Eagleton’s chest, picked him up, and threw him back against the door. He hung there for a moment, his vitals shredded, and then slowly slid down to a sitting position, leaving a gory smear on the door behind him.

  Left standing were only Ace, Chance, and Marshal Kaiser, who had stood the whole time with a stunned expression on his face, somehow untouched by all the lead that had been flying around the room.

  As the echoes of the blast died away, Kaiser opened his mouth to say something but couldn’t find any words. His jaw hung open slackly.

  Ace and Chance heard someone sobbing. They moved over where they could see Joe Buckhorn slumped over the body of Rose Demarcus, his back heaving as he cried. She had shot him, maybe mortally wounded him, yet he was grieving over her.

  If life ever made complete sense, Ace thought, it would be for the first time.

  They had other things to worry about. He looked at Kaiser. “Marshal, you claim to be a protector of law and order. Palisade’s going to need somebody to take charge. Eagleton’s hired guns will still need to be dealt with. Are you going to step up and do the right thing?”

  Kaiser looked a little like a fish out of water. “I . . . I . . . I ought to arrest you . . .”

  Chance stepped in. “You know who was really in the wrong here. You heard the whole story, and Eagleton didn’t deny a bit of it. What you need to do is go round up your posse and let the rest of those gunmen know they’d better light a shuck while they still can.” He shrugged. “It’s a sure bet they won’t be getting any more fighting wages from Eagleton.”

  “Yes, y-you’re right,” Kaiser stammered. He squared his shoulders. “Somebody’s got to be the law here, since Claude Wheeler is clearly as much a criminal as any of these others. And I’m the only one who has a badge.”

  “That’s right, Marshal,” Ace said, smiling. “You’re the only one who has a badge.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Brian Corcoran’s wound was serious. He had lost a lot of blood, but the doctor believed he would pull through, especially if he got plenty of rest for the next few months.

  Bess stayed at her father’s bedside, but Ace, Chance, and Emily delivered the mail pouch to Bleak Creek the next day. After sending the wire to the home office of the railroad informing them that Jacob Tanner was dead and revealing the scheme he had entered into with Samuel Eagleton, they picked up the stagecoach and brought it back to Palisade

  Marshal Kaiser and his posse hadn’t had to run any of Eagleton’s remaining men out of town. With no more payoffs ahead of them, they had pulled up stakes and drifted out in a hurry to look for more gun work elsewhere.

  The response from the railroad was swift. The captains of industry who ran it were canny men and saw right away the merits of Eagleton’s plan . . . as long as it didn’t involve murder. Executives of the railroad, including one of the owners, a woman named Vivian Browning, arrived in Palisade less than two weeks later—coming in by stagecoach with Ace at the reins and Chance riding shotgun—to offer a recuperating Brian Corcoran a small fortune for the right-of-way across the valley. They also suggested that by the time the depot was built—the depot that would be the centerpiece of a new settlement—he might want the job of running it.

  “I don’t know anything about running a damn train station!” Corcoran protested to his daughters when they discussed the situation.

  “But you always said that you enjoyed a challenge,” Bess pointed out.

  “Sounds like it would be a challenge to me,” Emily added.

  “Aye, I have been known to say that,” Corcoran agreed grudgingly. “I’ll give it some thought, but that’s as far as I’ll go right now.”

  “That’s enough, Pa,” Emily said, patting his hand. “You’ve got time to think about it.”

  Time was something that was weighing on the heads of Ace and Chance. They had been in Palisade for weeks, and no matter how fond they had grown of Bess and Emily, their nature was such that it wouldn’t let them stay in one place for too long.

  One day they looked at each other, knew what the other was thinking, and nodded.

  Messy good-byes were something they didn’t care for. Before dawn the next morning, they saddled their horses and rode out of Palisade, leaving behind notes for the Corcoran sisters that tried to explain why they were leaving, although they doubted that Bess and Emily would ever fully understand.

  “Those two are going to be mighty angry with us,” Chance commented as he and Ace rode through Timberline Pass and started down the mountain road where their adventure had begun.

  “I’m sure they will,” Ace agreed. “But they’re going to have their hands full helping their father with that railroad station. You know they’ll both pitch right in.”

  Chance chuckled. “Shoot, I wouldn’t be surprised if those two wind up running that railroad in a few years.”

  Ace couldn’t argue with that.

  They reached the valley and started north, not knowing where it led but well aware they didn’t want to head east toward Shoshone Gap and Bleak Creek. Several times, they had seen Marshal Kaiser eyeing them as if he still thought he ought to arrest them, even though all the charges against them had been dropped.

  No point in tempting the lawman, they thought.

  They hadn’t gone very far when a rider spurred out from a clump of trees and blocked the trail. Both brothers tensed and moved their hands toward their guns as they recognized the man in the dawn light.

  “Take it easy,” Joe Buckhorn said. “I’m not looking for a gunfight.”

  The man was gaunt, and his skin still had a pallor under its reddish hue. He had almost died from being shot by Rose Demarcus. That would have saved the law the trouble of hanging him. Even though he hadn’t kille
d Nate Sawyer, he’d been there when the old hostler was gunned down and had ordered the men who did the killing into the building.

  Just like Claude Wheeler, Buckhorn would have been put on trial when he recovered—if he recovered—but he’d escaped from the doctor’s house by taking the deputy guarding him by surprise and knocking the man out.

  Ace and Chance had figured the gunfighter was long gone from the area, so seeing him so close to Palisade was a shock.

  “What are you doing here?” Ace asked.

  “I’ve been waiting for the two of you. I figured you were too fiddle-footed to hang around forever, so I’ve been watching the pass. I wanted to tell you a couple things.”

  “All right,” Chance said warily. He watched Buckhorn closely with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Go ahead.”

  “First of all, I want to say I’m sorry about that old man.”

  “You mean Nate?” Ace asked.

  “Yeah. He shouldn’t have died.”

  “Damn right he shouldn’t have,” Chance snapped.

  “Well, I can’t bring him back,” Buckhorn said, irritation rasping his voice. “No more than I can bring back all the other folks who shouldn’t have died but did because of me. But I am sorry. For what good it does.”

  “Damn little,” Chance muttered.

  “What’s the other thing you want to say?” Ace asked.

  Buckhorn leaned forward in the saddle. “That I haven’t forgotten about you shooting me, Jensen. I don’t bear you any ill will, but I haven’t forgotten. Might be wise if the two of you never crossed trails with me again.”

  “Believe me, mister,” Chance said, “that’s just about the last thing we want.”

  “Just so we understand each other.” Buckhorn gave them a curt nod, turned his horse, and rode off into the trees.

  When he was gone, Chance said, “You reckon he’s waiting to ambush us?”

  “No,” Ace said. “I think he’s a man who means what he says. We don’t have anything to worry about where he’s concerned . . . unless we happen to meet up with him again.”