Kyle waited until after dark before he returned to the monastery. Leaving his horse hobbled, he slipped up to one of the side walls. Then, using chinks and holes in the stone facade to provide footholds and handholds, he climbed up, slipped over the top, and dropped to the ground inside the abbey walls.
Most of the buildings inside the monastery grounds were dark, for candles and oil for lamps were precious commodities to be used sparingly. Here and there, Kyle saw that some light did manage to escape through the windows of those buildings where there was light.
The grounds themselves were not totally dark, though, because the moon was full and bright, and the chapel, dormitory, stable, and grain storage buildings all gleamed in a soft, silver light like white blooms sprouting from desert cactus.
The night was alive with the long, high-pitched trills and low violalike thrums of the frogs. For counterpoint there were crickets, the long, mournful howl of coyotes, and from the stable, a mule braying and a horse whickering.
With his gun in hand, and staying in the shadows alongside the wall, Kyle moved toward the building that he knew to be the dining hall. He was sure they would be inside there, because it was one of the few buildings that had a light. Finding a window, he looked inside. There, he saw Taylor, Simmons, and Brother James. Though he had been certain that Taylor and Simmons were here, this was his first, actual confirmation of the fact.
Taylor and Simmons were eating, and Kyle thought that might give him the opportunity he needed to sneak up on them. Moving toward the front door, he opened it quietly.
Except for a single candle on the table, the room was dark, and that enabled Kyle to step inside, then slip quickly into the shadows.
“Bring me some more beans and bread,” Taylor said.
“Yeah, and some bacon,” Simmons added.
“I told you, we do not eat meat in this order.”
“Yeah, I know what you told us, but I think you’re shittin’ us,” Simmons said.
“Seeing as you are nothing but a turd anyway, how would you know whether he’s shitting you or not?” Kyle asked.
“What the hell?” Taylor shouted, standing up and spinning around toward Kyle.
“Hold it right there!” Kyle shouted menacingly. He cocked his pistol and the sound it made was loud and deadly. “Drop your gun belts.”
Glaring at him, their features contorted by the candlelight, the two outlaws unbuckled their gun belts and dropped them.
“What are you plannin’ on doin’ with us?” Taylor asked.
“I’m taking you back to jail,” Kyle said.
“There’s two of us and only one of you. Plus, it’s a long way back. How do you plan to do that?”
“That’s not your problem,” Kyle replied.
“You’ll never get us back.”
“Oh, I’ll get you back, all right,” Kyle said. “Either sitting in your saddle, or draped over it.”
When Kyle and his two prisoners rode into Sentinel two days later, the two riders were handcuffed and connected to each other by a rope. They stopped in front of the marshal’s office.
“Get down,” he said.
“It ain’t goin’ to be all that easy, what with us bein’ handcuffed and tied together with a rope,” Simmons said.
“I’ll help,” Kyle said, giving Simmons a shove. The outlaw fell from his saddle and rolled on the ground.
“You need help, too?” Kyle asked the other prisoner.
“No, I can get down on my own,” Taylor said, dismounting quickly.
Kyle herded them into the office. “Back there,” he said, pointing toward the cells at the back of the building.
“Say, Marshal, I’m gettin’ a little hungry here,” Taylor said. “What time do you serve supper?”
“I’ll bring you a biscuit and bacon,” Kyle said as put them into the cell, then closed the door and locked it. “Stick your hands through the bars.”
“Can’t get through, what with these handcuffs.”
“Hold one hand on top of the other, you can do it.”
The prisoners complied and Kyle removed their handcuffs, then hung them on a hook.
“You boys behave yourselves,” he said. “I’m going to get a beer.”
“Hey, Marshal, when you bring back them biscuits, you reckon you could bring us a beer?” Simmons asked. He laughed out loud.
“That’s real funny, Simmons,” Kyle said as he left.
When Kyle opened the door to the Ox Bow Saloon a couple of minutes later, he saw his deputy, Boomer Foley, sitting at a table with Sally Fontaine, the saloon owner. Boomer was a slender man, almost skinny, but appearances were deceiving. Kyle had seen Boomer in action, and he was more than able to handle himself.
Sally was a very attractive auburn-haired woman in her late thirties. She was a widow who had inherited the saloon when her husband was shot and killed by a drunken patron. Most expected Sally to sell the saloon and go back to Virginia where her father had once been a United States Congressman. They were surprised when she announced her intention of remaining in Sentinel to run the Ox Bow. Few thought she would succeed, but it was now three years since Marty Fontaine was killed, and the Ox Bow had not only survived, it did a thriving business.
“Marshal, welcome back,” Boomer said, smiling broadly. “Come over here and join us. We was just talkin’ about Doc Presnell, wonderin’ what kind of a trip he had.”
“Is Doc back?” Kyle asked.
“Not yet. He’s coming in on the seven-thirty train tonight,” Sally said.
“Where did he go again?” Kyle asked.
“Don’t you remember? He was in St. Louis attending some medical conference,” Sally said.
“Doc’s not the only one on the train tonight,” Boomer said.
“What do you mean?”
Boomer pulled a telegram from his pocket. “We got this from the marshal back in Purgatory. I reckon he sent it to every lawman between Purgatory and Yuma.” He handed the page to Kyle.
ATTENTION ALL LAW OFFICERS STOP PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT PRISONER MATT JENSEN WILL BE IN CUSTODY ON TONIGHT’S TRAIN TO YUMA STOP JENSEN HAS BEEN TRIED FOR MURDER CONVICTED AND SENTENCED TO BE HANGED STOP MARSHAL ANDREW CUMMINS
“You sure that’s tonight’s train?” Kyle asked after he read the telegram.
“Yes, sir, I’m sure. We got the telegram this afternoon.”
“That’s funny,” Kyle said. “I haven’t heard of any murder trial being conducted back in Purgatory.”
“Could be that it happened while you was gone,” Boomer said. “Don’t forget, you been gone for a few days now.”
“Still, that seems awfully fast to have a murder, hold a trial, then sentence a man,” Kyle said.
“Do you know this here Marshal Cummins?”
“Only by reputation,” Kyle replied. “I’ve heard that he is a pretty domineering sort.” Kyle sighed. “But, if he is the man the people of Purgatory want, who am I to question them?” Kyle turned to Sally and smiled. “I heard a rumor that a man could get a beer in this place if he knew the right people.”
Sally laughed out loud. “Fred?” she called over to the bartender. “Bring Marshal Kyle a beer.”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Sally,” Fred answered.
“I take it that was Taylor and Simmons I seen you ridin’ in with a few minutes ago,” Boomer said
“Yes,” Kyle answered.
“Did you have a hard time trackin’ ’em?”
“Wasn’t hard at all,” he said. “Once I saw that they were going southwest from Sentinel, I knew there was only one place they could go.”
“The monastery?” Boomer asked.
Kyle nodded. “The monastery.”
Boomer chuckled. “If any of them outlaws ever get a lick of sense about ’em, this law business would be a lot harder,” he said. “You think they didn’t have any idea you’d know exactly where they would be—where they would have to be?”
“I’m not sure they even thought about it.”
“You’ll be chargin’ ’em with robbin’ that stagecoach, right?”
“Yes. But I’m also sure they took part in that bank robbery up in Wickenburg,” Kyle said. “So I’m hoping they’ll shed some light on where to find Cletus Odom.”
“Ben, do you actually think these two men will tell you anything about Odom?” Sally asked.
“I think so,” Kyle said. “As far as I know, neither Taylor nor Simmons have ever done murder. That is, until the attempted bank robbery in Wickenburg.”
“I thought all the witnesses said it was Odom who shot him,” Boomer said.
“That’s right,” Kyle agreed. “But just by being there, that makes Taylor and Simmons every bit as guilty as Odom. I want them to know that, because then I’ll offer them a deal. It could be that if they think they are facing a hanging, they may turn on Odom to save their hides.”
“I’d sure love to get Odom,” Boomer said. “He’s one evil son of a bitch. Oh, beg pardon, Miss Sally, I’m sorry ’bout that.”
Sally laughed. “No need to apologize for telling the truth.”
“Yes, ma’am, but I hadn’t ought to have used language like that in front of a lady.”
“Boomer, I run a saloon,” Sally said. “Believe me, there’s very little I haven’t heard.” She turned to Marshal Kyle. “Have you had your supper, Ben?” She asked.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Would you like to join me for supper down at Del Monte’s? My treat.”
“Well, now, how could I pass up an offer like that?” Kyle replied. “Boomer, how about getting a couple of biscuit-and-bacon sandwiches to take to our prisoners?”
“All right,” Boomer said. “Then I’ll make the rounds, but I plan to be down to the depot to meet the train when it gets in. Are you two goin’ to be there?”
Sally and Kyle exchanged a smiling glance.
“We may, and we may not,” Kyle said.
“Well, you’ll want to greet Doc, won’t you? I mean, he’s been gone for the better part of a month,” Boomer said. Then, seeing the way the two were looking at each other, he stopped in mid-sentence. “Uh—’course if you’re not there to meet him, it won’t really matter none. I’ll bring Doc down for a drink if he wants one.”
“You do that, Boomer,” Sally said. “And tell Fred that anything you and Doc drink tonight will be on me.”
“Well, Miss Sally, that’s just real nice of you now,” Boomer said, beaming at the offer.
As the train to Yuma hurtled across the desert, Deputy Hayes walked over to the door of the express car and slid it open. When he did so, the wind caused several papers to fly around inside the car.
“Here!” Kingsley shouted angrily as he made a grab for the papers and envelopes. “What are you doing?”
“I’m takin’ a piss out the door,” Hayes answered, laughing.
“I have to have this mail sorted by the time we reach Sentinel,” Kingsley said. “I can’t do it with all the wind coming through. Close the door.”
“All right, all right, hold your horses,” Hayes said. “Soon as I shake the lily a bit, I’ll close the door.”
Matt watched and listened to the exchange between the two men. Matt could smell the smoke that drifted in from the engine, and one gleaming ember even landed on the table of the mail cabinet that was in front of Kingsley.
Agitatedly, Kingsley stamped out the glowing ember. “You’re going to set us on fire,” he complained.
Hayes slid the door shut. “Damn, Kingsley, if you ain’t like some old woman,” he said. “You ain’t done nothin’ but bitch since we left Purgatory.”
“I’m not just a passenger on the train, you know. I have work to do,” Kingsley said.
“Well, go on, I ain’t stoppin’ you,” Hayes said.
Hayes moved back up to the front of the car, where Matt was sitting on the floor, with his back against the wall.
“Hey, Jensen,” Hayes said. “You ever seen a man get hung?”
“Yes,” Matt said.
“Yeah, I have, too,” Hayes said. “It sure is fun to watch. It ain’t pretty, what with the man getting’ hisself hung havin’ his face go all purple, and his eyes buggin’ out like they do.” Hayes laughed, then slapped himself on the knee. “No, sir, it ain’t pretty, but, damn, it’s fun to watch.”
“I don’t enjoy them as much as you do,” Matt said.
“Yeah, well, maybe you’ll enjoy this one more, seein’ as you’re goin’ to be the star,” Hayes said. “Just think, you’ll be standin’ up there on the gallows with ever’one lookin’ right at you while the hangman puts his noose around your neck.”
Hayes made a motion with his hand, as if putting on a noose.
“Then, next thing you know, why, they’ll open that trapdoor under you and you’ll fall through. Skkkkkttttt!” He made the sound with his throat, then he jerked his head to one side, opened his eyes wide, and stuck out his tongue, as if he had just been executed.
Hayes laughed out loud. “Hey, what do you think? Pretty good, wasn’t it?”
At that moment, the train wheels rolled over the junction of two tracks, and the clacking sound was much louder than normal.
“What was that?” Hayes asked, startled by the change in sound.
“It was nothing,” Kingsley said. “Haven’t you ever been on a train before?”
“Yeah, sure,” Hayes said. “But I don’t think I ever been on one as loud as this one.”
“It’s no louder than normal,” Kingsley said, not looking up from his task of sorting letters.
The sun was a bright red disc just resting on the western horizon. Bands of red and purple laced across the sky as Cletus Odom stood in the middle of the tracks, looking back toward the east. The twin ribbons of steel glinted in the setting sun…shining red until they disappeared into the gathering dusk to the east.
“See anything yet?” one of the men behind him called.
“Not yet.”
“Maybe we’ve already missed it.”
“We haven’t missed it,” Odom said. He turned back toward the three men who were bending over the tracks. “How’s it coming?” he asked.
“We’ve pulled out a couple of the spikes,” Bates replied. “But they’re damn hard to remove.”
“They’re supposed to be hard to get out. But all you have to do is pull enough of ’em to be able to push the rail out a few inches.”
“You sure that’ll stop the train?” Bates asked.
“You ever seen a train run on dirt?”
“No.”
“Well, if you push that rail out, the only place the train can go is dirt. Yeah, I’m sure this’ll stop it.”
“Señor, how much money is on the train?” Paco asked.
“How much you got now?” Odom replied.
“Maybe I have one dollar,” Paco answered.
“Then it doesn’t really matter how much money the train is carryin’, does it? Whatever it is, it’ll be more’n you got. Schuler?” Odom called.
“Yeah?” Schuler answered.
“If we have to blow the safe, are you going to be able to handle it? Or are you drunk?”
“I can do the job,” Schuler insisted.
“You damn well better be able to do the job.”
They heard a whistle in the distance.
“Hurry it up!” Odom said, and he came over to join them as, working quickly, they pulled up two more spikes.
“Bates, you’re the biggest one here,” Odom said. “Pick up the sledgehammer and hit the rail here a couple of times—just enough to push it out.”
Bates grabbed the hammer and hit it. The rail popped out. He was about to hit it a second time when Odom stopped him.
“That’s far enough,” he said. “Hurry, get the tools out of the way and get down out of sight.”
It was less than two minutes after the men put the tools away when they first saw the train. It was approaching at about twenty miles per hour, a respectable enough speed, though the vastn
ess of the desert made it appear as if the train was going much slower. Against the great panorama of the desert the train seemed puny, and even the smoke that poured from its stack made but a tiny scar against the orange vault of the sky at sunset.
They could hear the train quite easily now, the sound of its puffing engine carrying to them across the wide, flat ground the way sound travels across water. As the engine approached, it gave some perspective as to how large the desert really was, for the train that had appeared so tiny before was now a behemoth, blocking out the sky.
“Get ready, boys,” Odom said. “It’s nearly here.”
“Say, how long before we reach the next town anyways?” Hayes asked. “What I need to do is, I need to get off this train and get me a beer. And maybe a bottle of whiskey, too.”
“No alcoholic spirits are allowed in the express car,” Kingsley said.
“Yeah? So what are you going to do about it? Go to the law? I’m the law!” Hayes said with a cackling laugh.
“No, I’m not going to the law. If you want to drink I can’t stop you,” Kingsley said. “But I can report you to the railroad.”
“Yeah? And what will the railroad do? Tell me I’m a bad boy?” Hayes laughed out loud.
“Well, for one thing, they will see to it that you can’t ride the train anymore.”
“And that’s supposed to mean something to me?” Hayes asked.
“It means that you’d better not consider going anywhere you can’t walk or ride a horse,” Kingsley said.
Matt laughed.
“What are you laughing at?” Hayes asked.
“Seems to me like Mr. Kingsley has the upper hand,” Matt said.
“Yeah?” Hayes replied. Stepping over to Matt, Hayes suddenly slapped Matt in the face. “There ain’t nothin’ you can do about that, seein’ as you’re all chained up like you are.” Hayes slapped Matt a second time. “Tell me, Mr. Killer, who has the upper hand now?” he asked, laughing.
Hayes was standing over Matt with his legs spread, looking down at Matt, who was still on the floor.
Matt Jensen: The Last Mountain Man Purgatory Page 7
