“You sound hurt, Zeke.” answered Clayton, “Tell you what, let us be on our way and I won’t kill you.” In response, Zeke fired a single shot that had no hope of hitting neither Clayton nor Jeremiah but made clear he had no intention of letting up.
Behind the log, Clayton made a decision.
“Keep an eye on her.” he told the wounded Jeremiah who made no response. He then moved out from behind the tree. Zeke saw this and mirrored his action. Now they were face-to-face across a distance of about thirty paces. Quietly, they eyed each other. It was Clayton who spoke first.
“Shame it had to come to this, Zeke old buddy.” he said, “I hate to kill you, especially like this. We could have made such a pair.” Zeke could feel the strength in his hands fading. Any second now and he would no longer be able to feel his fingers. With his left hand covering his wound, him moved his right into position over his pistol.
“Make your move, Clayton.” he said. Clayton looked him over as fear took root in his mind. True, Zeke was wounded, maybe mortally so, but the look in his eye was one of certainty, which gave Clayton shivers. There was no backing out now.
In a flash, Clayton’s hand went to his pistol and he drew. Zeke was at least half a step behind him and he seemed to be having trouble drawing his gun. Clayton had filled his hand and was raising it while Zeke was still struggling to free his weapon. Clayton took aim and a shot rang out. Clayton felt a tremendous shock move through his chest. He was dead when he hit the ground, and for a second, Zeke had no idea what had happened. Then he noticed Alaine with a smoking pistol in her hand and Jeremiah dead from his wounds on the ground beside her. She was safe. Upon realizing that, he collapsed as she rushed forward to his side.
“Zeke!” she cried, kneeling beside him and cradling his head, “Are you all right?”
“No, darlin’.” he coughed, “I’m pretty shot up. Now listen to me. I want you to take that horse and ride east, you hear me?” Tears welled up in Alaine’s eyes.
“You’re coming with me.” she said, fighting sobs.
“I’m played out.” he said, “You have to go on without me.”
“I can’t.” she said, brushing his hair out of his face, “You still have my boots.” She tried to force herself to smile.
“You can have them.” replied Zeke, “They don’t fit me.” A laugh escaped Alaine.
“Why, Zeke,” she said, “did you just make a joke?”
“No.” he replied, “I tried them on. They really don’t fit.” Zeke smiled, Alaine chuckled through tears.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so big before.” she said.
“Well,” said Zeke, “now you’ve seen it. Now get out of here.”
“No.” replied Alaine, “You’re coming with me.”
“I can’t. I’m done in.”
“You’re coming with me.” Alaine repeated and laid him gently on the ground. She marched over to the only horse Zeke hadn’t shot and untied it. She jerked the reins but the horse resisted.
“Come on.” she cried, “Come on you son of a bitch.” She tugged ever more forcefully on the reins. Slowly the horse reluctantly followed. She pulled him to the spot where Zeke lay dying. Grabbing a hold of his bit in both hands, Alaine mimicked the trick she had seen Zeke perform and pulled the resisting horse in a tight circle, leading him to the ground.
“Come on, Goddammit!” she cried, adopting Zeke’s favorite curse. The horse, overwhelmed by her will, followed its bit to the ground. Quickly, Alaine laid herself across its neck, weighing it down. She had won.
The horse now lay on its side only a few feet from Zeke, who was fading fast.
“Zeke!” cried Alaine, “Give me your hand.” Alaine stretched out her hand as far as she could while still keeping her weight on the horse’s neck, but it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t make it. “Zeke, I can’t reach.” She cried. Zeke could barely lift his head. Slowly, he reached out his hand. A distance of only three feet separated their outstretched fingers. “I can’t hold him down much longer, Zeke. Please!” tears streamed down Alaine’s face, “Come to me.” She cried. With all his heart, Zeke wanted to reach her hands. Not because he wanted to be saved from death, but because he wanted to touch her one last time before death took him.
The last thing he remembered was trying to crawl to her to tell her that he loved her.
He woke up in bed being attended to by Dr. Collinge.
“Am I dead?” he asked weakly, startling the good doctor who had been examining his wound.
“It would appear not.” replied the doctor.
“Zeke?” Alaine’s voice was unmistakable, “Are you awake?” Zeke’s eyes struggled to focus. There, bathed in light was an angel. Glorious illumination spilled around her and lit her like a star. She was wearing a white dress and smiling at him. His heart filled with joy. It was Alaine standing in front of a sunlit window. “Thank God.” she whispered and rushed to hug his neck.
“Where am I?” he rasped.
“Betty Hammond’s boardinghouse.” replied the doctor. Zeke took a look around. Alaine’s face was bruised on one side and her lip had been split as well but she was beaming. The door to the room opened and Smythe entered followed by a well-dressed man.
“Good show, doctor.” exclaimed Smythe, “Mr. McAllister,” Smythe grabbed Zeke’s hand and shook it vigorously, causing him to wince, “I’m so happy to see you survive.” The well-dressed man extended his hand.
“Mr. McAllister, my name is Arthur Pence.”
“My husband.” said Alaine with little enthusiasm.
“I owe you a great debt.” continued Arthur, “From what Alaine has told me, you saved her life on more than one occasion.”
“My pleasure.” said Zeke, suddenly feeling much worse.
“Are you feeling all right?” asked Arthur, “All of the color drained from your face just now.”
“I’m fine.” said Zeke.
“Zeke is the sort who wouldn’t tell you if he was hurt.” offered Alaine.
“You’ve got quite an acolyte in my young wife, sir.” said Arthur, “In fact, she’s been at your side and has refused to leave town until you are feeling better.”
“Leave?” asked Zeke.
“For San Francisco.” replied Arthur as Alaine stared at the floor.
“Oh.” said Zeke, “Right.”
“But not until you are feeling better.” said Alaine. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Smythe cleared his throat.
“Well,” he said, “we should let you convalesce in peace, eh? As soon as you wish, we can discuss your reward.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you.” said Arthur, “And thank you again.” Zeke made no reply as they moved to the door. Alaine stood still. “Darling,” continued Arthur, “we should let the man rest.”
“I’ll be right down.” she said. Arthur, Smythe and the doctor left the room. Zeke and Alaine regarded one another in silence for a long while, then she moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed.
“You look like you’ve been in a Mexican saloon fight.” observed Zeke.
“And you look like you’ve lost a Mexican saloon fight.” They smiled at each other.
“So,” continued Zeke after a moment, “San Francisco, huh?” Alaine returned her gaze to the floor.
“Zeke,” her voice was barely audible, “I have to go.”
“I know.”
“Will you come visit?”
“Sure.” Alaine knew he wouldn’t.
“Will you ever change?” she asked, “Will you ever say something when you’re hurting?”
“Probably not.” said Zeke as tears filled Alaine’s eyes.
“I should go.” she stood up, “You need your rest.”
“Yeah.” agreed Zeke with no conviction.
“Goodbye,” she said, bending over to kiss his forehead, “I’ll come round tomorrow to check in on you.” Zeke forced a smile and Alaine forced her tears back as she exited the room. Zeke had never felt worse
in his whole life.
After a few days, Zeke was well enough to stand, even well enough to walk and though he really didn’t want to, he went down to the street to see Alaine off. Arthur sat in the stagecoach as they bid each other farewell on the front porch of Betty Hammond’s boardinghouse. Smythe stood nearby.
“I have to leave.” said Alaine, “We’re going with a group of waggoners.”
“No train?” asked Zeke.
“I’ve quite had my fill of trains.” Alaine smiled.
“I reckon you have.” replied Zeke.
“Thank you.” said Alaine, “For everything.” Her bruises were almost gone.
“Anytime.” said Zeke. Alaine extended her hand and Zeke accepted it as an equal. No one else could see it, but fires burned in their eyes. “Stay safe.” said Zeke.
“I will.” smiled Alaine before turning away and quickly hopping aboard the coach before her emotions overwhelmed her. The driver whipped the horses and the coach pulled away. Zeke watched it leave until he could no longer see it.
“Come, Mr. McAllister,” said Smythe, “let’s get you back in bed.” As Smythe helped Zeke up the stairs, he said, “Tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it, I’d like to treat you to one of Harold Cooper’s delicious steaks and hear all about your adventure.”
“Sure.” replied Zeke getting into bed.
“Jolly good.” said Smythe, “Tomorrow then.”
Zeke lay in bed all that day unable to think of anything but Alaine. He envisioned their life together. House. Children. Such bliss. A heaven he would never know. Hot tears stung his cheeks and he was glad no one was there to see them.
The next day around suppertime, Smythe arrived to make good on his threat to buy him one of Harold’s steaks. English food must be terrible, thought Zeke, if he thinks Harold has good cuts of meat. Regardless, Zeke obliged him if for no other reason than to have some distraction from these thoughts of Alaine he seemed unable to escape.
Smythe was a man of quite a few words Zeke began to realize. As they walked from Betty’s to the saloon, he scarcely seemed to breathe without saying a word or two. Zeke wasn’t exactly listening.
“…married him as per her father’s wishes…”
“…to San Francisco to oversee her father’s interests…”
“…not very talented…” “…gambling debt…”
Zeke wasn’t interested. As they settled into their chairs, Smythe produced two expensive cigars and offered one to Zeke, which he accepted.
“But listen to me,” continued Arthur, “talking ceaselessly when it’s your story I wish to hear.”
“Yeah.” said Zeke, “I’m sure Alaine already told you most of it.”
“Indeed she did.” he replied, lighting their cigars, “but I would like to hear your version of events. A man’s perspective, as it were. It sounds like it was quite a harrowing ordeal.” Zeke puffed on his cigar.
“Well,” said Zeke, “I’ll allow it was a lot harder than it needed to be.” He leveled a disapproving glare at Smythe who seemed honestly confused.
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“Let’s just say that when you send out more than one man on a job, it creates problems.”
“More than one? What the devil are you talking about?”
“Don’t play coy.” admonished Zeke, “I know you sent Clayton after the same prize you sent me and let me tell you, just because you found us the same way and just because he was part of that same robbery does not mean I’m anything like him. He’s a real dangerous character. You should be more careful who you hire in the future.” Smythe’s brow was wrinkled with befuddlement.
“Mr. McAllister,” he said gravely, “I assure you, I have no idea what you’re saying. You are the only man to whom I entrusted this task.”
“Horse shit.” spat Zeke, “If that’s true, then how in the hell did Clayton just happened to be…”
Then it hit him.
That robbery. It was Clayton’s plan but he had mentioned some privileged information.
Arthur.
The shipment had contained assets of Smythe’s employer. Alaine’s father. Arthur’s boss.
Gambling debts, Smythe had mentioned. Arthur’s debts. He was mismanaging the company. He had hired Clayton to rob the stagecoach but even that had failed. It was Clayton’s band that had attacked the train looking for Alaine. Arthur wanted her dead so he would inherit her wealth. It was he who had examined the women that day at the camp and not finding what he was after, rode away.
He meant to kill her.
Zeke bolted from his chair and moved as fast as he could back to the boarding house where his guns sat waiting for him. Smythe followed close behind him.
“Mr. Mcallister,” he said, struggling to keep up, “what’s the meaning of all this?”
“Arthur aims to kill Alaine.”
“What?” Smythe was incredulous, “That’s ridiculous.” Zeke stopped to face him.
“Clayton was there at the robbery. It was his plan. Somebody hired him. It was someone from your company. The band that attacked the train was looking for only one woman, but they didn’t know which one, so they had to take everyone that fit the description. Clayton mentioned her by name. There’s only one way he could have known that if you didn’t send him. Alaine is in danger.” Zeke set off again at a quicker pace.
“My God.” whispered Smythe before snapping back to the present and hurrying after Zeke, “What are you going to do? You’re injured.”
“To hell with that.” answered Zeke, “I’m going to get her back and if he’s hurt her, I’m gonna drag him back here by his heels and hang whatever’s left.”
A killer’s moon was rising over the landscape as Zeke whipped his horse hell-bent for leather hot on the trail of the Waggoners who had a day and a half head start on him. All he carried with him were his guns. As he rode, he regretted never telling Alaine that he loved her and he vowed he would do nothing else until he had and God help anyone who got in his way.
Alaine awoke early and walked a little ways out of the camp. Quietly she stood watching the sunrise and thinking about Zeke. She wondered if she would ever see him again. One by one the rest of the travelers woke and prepared to set out.
As she packed camp, Arthur seemed to be struggling with the coach.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” he answered, “I think there’s something wrong with the axle.” The other travelers began to move away.
“The others are leaving.” observed Alaine.
“We can catch up.” replied Arthur, “As soon as I fix this wheel.” Alaine had never seen Arthur fix anything. In fact, he only seemed to make things worse. Her father’s business. Her life in Boston. Everything.
“Why don’t you go gather firewood.” he said.
“Why?”
“In case we are unable to continue.” he answered, “We’ll need to build a fire.” Alaine didn’t argue. She would be glad to get away from him even for a few minutes and be alone with her thoughts. Her thoughts of Zeke. Happily she went into the pine forest and began picking up kindling all the while feeling that someone was watching her.
When she had gathered a fair amount of wood, she returned to the coach where she found Arthur sitting on a pail with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a small pistol in the other.
“What are you doing?” she asked, “Did you fix it?”
“Yes,” he answered, “I fixed it. I fixed it all.” Alaine was scared and confused.
“What are you on about?” Arthur took a swig but said nothing for a long time.
“I have to say,” he eventually slurred, “you’re much stronger than I thought you were.” Alaine stood stock still, “This entire endeavor would have been much easier if you weren’t.” Fear rippled through Alaine’s soul and she wished Zeke were there. Her eyes fixated on the pistol in Arthur’s hand. It was small, even smaller than the one Zeke had taught her to shoot, but she was still frightened.
“What are you doing?” she asked. Arthur took another pull of whiskey and finally looked at her.
“You never were very bright.” he said. Alaine dropped the bundle she was carrying and dashed into the forest as Arthur fired two shots after her. She ran as fast as she could with Arthur following close behind her.
“Alaine!” screamed Arthur, “Get back here! Don’t make it harder than it needs to be.” Alaine ran until her lungs were sore. Arthur kept close, thundering through the underbrush firing shots that missed her by a mile.
She burst through the trees and into a small clearing. She could feel him getting closer to her as she struggled to cross the clearing and make it to the shelter of the trees on the other side. It seemed so far away.
Eventually, Alaine could go no further. She stopped and faced her would-be murderer. Her eyes were enough to stop him in his tracks. They stood still, a mere twenty feet separating them. The weight of this betrayal came crashing over Alaine and she felt her heart break a little.
“Why?” she wept, “Why are you doing this?”
“The oldest reason on earth.” answered Arthur, “Money. I need more. I am sorry.”
He raised his pistol and she closed her eyes against it.
Suddenly, a single shot echoed all around them. A massive figure was moving through the woods toward them at high speed. The shadowy rider stopped and dismounted.
“Put that piece down.” said Zeke, Arthur made no move to comply.
“McAllister?” said Arthur.
“Put it down,” Zeke repeated, “or I will kill you. Right here. Right now.” Zeke stepped out of the shadows and Arthur could see the massive size of the pistol that was aimed right at his heart. It was enough to overwhelm any man’s resolve. Without thinking, he dropped his weapon.
“Zeke!” cried Alaine and ran to Zeke’s side, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.
“I love you.” he declared before he could chicken out.
Hell for Leather Page 11
