Vendetta Trail

by Robert Vaughan

  “Madre di Dio,” Tangeleno said, sighing and throwing up his hand. “All right, then I want to borrow God’s church. I’m sure He won’t mind.”

  “Why do you want to borrow the church?”

  “Because it is the only place large enough to hold every man, woman, and child in town.”

  “I don’t understand,” Gadbury said.

  “It isn’t important that you understand. It is only important that you get everyone to come to the church. Everyone,” he said with emphasis.

  “How do you expect me to do that? On the best Sunday just over half the people in the town come to church.”

  “You are going to tell them that if everyone is not in this church, one hour from now, I am going to start killing the schoolchildren. And I will kill one of them every five minutes until I have killed all of them—or until everyone in town is in this church.”

  “You are mad!” Gadbury said.

  “No, Padre, I am determined,” Tangeleno said. “And the hour starts now,” he said, looking at his pocket watch. “Oh, I will send Louise with you to help you round everyone up.”

  Gadbury continued to stare angrily at Tangeleno.

  “You had better get going, Reverend,” Vizzini said. “Don Tangeleno don’t like to be kept waiting.” Vizzini looked at his watch. “And two minutes have already passed. What if the last person doesn’t get here until two minutes too late, and I have already killed this girl?” He jabbed the shotgun against the young girl’s neck and she whimpered.

  “That would be the two minutes that you have already wasted. Wouldn’t you feel bad about being the cause of that?”

  “Come, Mrs. Smalley,” Gadbury said, starting toward the front door of the church. “We must make haste.”

  Vizzini laughed. “‘Make haste,’” he said. “Yeah, I like that. What is that? Some sort of sermon talk?”

  Gadbury glared at Vizzini. “Do no harm to the children,” he said as he and Louise left.

  Within minutes after Gadbury left, the first of the townspeople started coming in. Tangeleno met them at the door. One of the men, standing just in front of the marquee, was wearing a pistol belt.

  “Leave your gun outside,” Tangeleno ordered.

  “The hell I will! You let those children go!” the man shouted, making a grab for his pistol.

  Tangeleno whirled his shotgun around and pulled the trigger while the man was still bringing his pistol up. The blast caught him in the upper chest, neck, and face, and slammed him back against the church marquee. He slid down, gasped a few times for breath, then died. From inside the church, the children screamed, and Tangeleno turned his gun toward them.

  “Be quiet!” he ordered. “I will shoot the next person who screams.”

  There were no more incidents after that and, within an hour, the church was filled.

  “Is this everyone, Louise?” Tangeleno asked when she and the preacher returned. Louise’s husband was with her.

  “Yes, this is everyone.”

  Tangeleno looked over the church for a moment, then nodded. “You know, Louise, I believe you are right. Even Ely and the whores who work for him are here.”

  Ely, Maggie, and Sally, the other “soiled dove,” were sitting near the back.

  “Tell me, Padre, is this the first time you’ve ever had a whore in your church?” Tangeleno asked.

  Gadbury didn’t answer.

  “Ah, no, wait. Louise is one of your regulars, isn’t she?”

  “Mrs. Smalley attends church quite regularly, yes,” Gadbury replied.

  “Well, then, this is not the first time you’ve had a whore in your church, is it?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” the preacher said.

  “Of course you don’t. So, Louise, is this your husband?”

  Louise didn’t answer.

  “I think he is your husband. I can tell by the way he looks at you. Mr. Smalley, did you know that before she came here, your wife was a whore? I am told she was quite good. I can’t speak for myself, of course; she never spread her legs for me. But my friends have told me she was very good. What about it, Mr. Smalley? Is she very good?”

  “Why, you low-assed, piss-complexioned, maggot-infested, pig-faced son of a bitch!” Eddie said, starting toward him.

  Tangeleno pointed his shotgun at the kids and he pulled the hammer back. “Take one more step and I’ll pull the trigger,” he said. “With this scattergun I’ll kill at least two of them and hurt a lot more. Do you want to see that?”

  Eddie glared at him.

  “Eddie, no,” Louise said. “It’s not worth it.”

  Looking around the room, Eddie saw that several of the townspeople were looking on in shock over what they had just heard.

  “It’s true,” Eddie said. “I met her in New Orleans. I knew what she was when I met her, but I didn’t care. I fell in love with her.”

  “Oh,” Tangeleno said. “Did I give away your secret?”

  “We love her as well,” Gadbury said. “The entire town loves her.”

  “Yes, but that was before you knew she was a whore,” Tangeleno said. “What do you think of her now?”

  “Even Jesus forgave the prostitutes,” Gadbury said. “I don’t know who or what she was in New Orleans, but here, I am proud to say that she is Mrs. Smalley, a member of our church and my friend.”

  “My friend too,” Betty said and immediately the others, including Maggie and Sally, gathered around Louise to extend their assurances that nothing had changed.

  Tangeleno clapped quietly. “What a tender scene,” he said. “I am impressed by the goodness of the people in this town.”

  “Coming out of your mouth, Tangeleno, even the word ‘goodness’ has a foulness to it,” Gadbury said.

  “I’ll say this for you, Padre. You’ve got sand,” Tangeleno said. Then to Louise he said, “Oh, I almost forgot. I have a telegram for you.”

  “You…have a telegram for me?”

  “It’s my fault, Mrs. Smalley,” Rodman said. “That other man with the shotgun was there when the telegram came in yesterday. He told me he was your brother, so I gave it to him.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late in telling you about it,” Tangeleno said. “Suppose I just read it to you?” Without waiting for a response, Tangeleno took the message out of his pocket and read it. “‘I will be arriving on the 7th. Instant. Stop. Rachel.’”

  Tangeleno looked up at her. “That is right, isn’t it? You are expecting your friend Rachel to come to Bellefont today?”

  “Yes,” Louise said.

  “Good. Now you folks just relax and make yourselves comfortable. This will all be over by this afternoon.”

  “What do you mean everything will be over this afternoon?” Louise asked.

  “It will be over as soon as I kill Rachel and the man she is traveling with,” Tangeleno said.

  Chapter 33

  ALTHOUGH THE SUN WAS LOW IN THE WESTERN sky, there was still quite a bit of light when the train reached Bellefont. There were no departing passengers waiting at the station, and no one who was just curious to see the train as it arrived. As a result, Hawke and Rachel, who were the only two arriving passengers, stepped out onto a deserted platform in a very quiet town.

  The door to the baggage car opened and the baggage handler stood there looking out.

  “Matt!” he called. “Matt, we got luggage!”

  The conductor left the train as well, and he flipped open his watch to check the time.

  “That’s funny. It’s not like Matt to miss a train,” he said. “Come to think of it, this time of day, there’s normally a dozen or so people here. I wonder where everyone is.”

  “Has this ever happened before?” Hawke asked. “I mean for you to arrive and there be absolutely no one to meet the train.”

  “Oh, it has from time to time,” the conductor said. “Like if there is somethin’ goin’ on in town…a wedding or something. But normally there is someone here…at least to handle the
baggage.”

  “Why don’t I just walk down to the baggage car and have the luggage handed down to me?” Hawke asked.

  The conductor chuckled. “If you’re going to get your luggage, looks like that’s the only way it’s going to happen.”

  “Oh, would you mind taking this as well?” The baggage handler asked after he had handed down Hawke and Rachel’s luggage. He was holding a small canvas pouch.

  “What is this?” Hawke asked.

  “According to the bill of lading, it’s a knife. Anyway, it is to be left with the hotel clerk. A man named Cassius Cole will pick it up sometime next week. All the information is in a letter just inside the pouch.”

  “All right. Give it to me,” Hawke said. “If I can’t find the station master, I’ll take it over to the hotel myself.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that,” the baggage clerk said as he handed the bag down to Hawke. He closed the door to the car and Hawke carried the two pieces of luggage and the canvas bag over to where Rachel and the conductor were still standing.

  The conductor snapped the cover closed on his watch, then waved toward the engine. The engineer blew the whistle twice, then opened the throttle. The conductor stepped up on to the train just as it began to roll.

  “If you see the station master, tell him we couldn’t wait,” the conductor called back to Hawke as the train began gathering speed. “You folks have a real nice visit.”

  “Thanks,” Rachel called back to him.

  Hawke and Rachel stood on the depot platform until the train reached the edge of town. The sound of the train receded in the distance, to be replaced by the high keening moan of a prairie wind. A dust devil danced across the street and a sign that read HARDWARE, TINWARE, AND NOTIONS squeaked as it was jerked back and forth by the force of the wind. Somewhere a dog barked.

  “Let’s go into the depot and see if anyone is here,” Hawke suggested.

  They went into the depot and looked around but saw nobody.

  “Hello?” Hawke called.

  When he didn’t get an answer, Hawke walked around behind the ticket counter but found the area completely deserted. He checked two of the side rooms and found them empty as well.

  From another part of the building, the telegraph started clacking and the sudden intrusion of sound in the abandoned building startled both of them.

  “Maybe the telegrapher knows what’s going on,” Hawke said, starting toward the sound. He opened the door and looked in, but no one was in the room.

  The clacking of the telegraph was from a signal being received at the other end. Hawke could not read telegraphy, but as a musician he was keenly attuned to rhythm. As the same rhythmic pattern kept repeating itself, he had the opinion that some distant telegrapher was trying to get the attention of the Bellefont station.

  “I wonder where everyone is,” Rachel said.

  “Well, if it’s just a one-man operation, the way the conductor said, maybe he’s not feeling very well. It’s not like he has a rush of business,” Hawke said.

  Rachel chuckled. “You’ve got that right.” She looked toward the clock, then turned her head quizzically. The clock read: 11:28. The pendulum was hanging motionless in the glass-fronted case.

  “Mason, look at the clock. It’s about five hours late.”

  Hawke walked over to the clock and started the pendulum. It moved back and forth enough times to indicate there was nothing wrong with the clock.

  “It’s run down,” Hawke said in surprise. “Why would you let a clock run down in a railroad depot? Of all places, you would think a train station would need to have an accurate timepiece.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Do you know where your friend Louise lives?”

  “No,” Rachel said. “I just send the mail to her in care of general delivery, Bellefont. But I did send her a telegram telling her that I would be arriving today. I’m a little surprised that she isn’t here to meet us.”

  “It shouldn’t be all that hard to find her. Look at that sign.”

  WELCOME TO

  BELLEFONT

  POPULATION: 103

  “With a population like that, I suspect everyone in town will know her.”

  “It isn’t a very big town, is it? Unless everybody in town gambles, I don’t know where I’m going to get my business.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that,” Hawke replied. “These small Western towns generally get most of their business from the ranches and farms around it. You’ll be surprised at how much business you’ll have.” He picked up the two suitcases. “There’s the hotel across the street. What do you say we go get checked in? Then we can walk down to your friend’s store.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Rachel said as she started toward the Railroad Hotel with him.

  As they crossed the street, they heard a cow bawling.

  “What’s that?” Rachel asked.

  Hawke laughed. “Don’t tell me the Brubaker Farm didn’t have cows,” he teased. “She just needs milking. That’s all.”

  “Of course we had cows, but I didn’t do such things. I was a pampered Southern Belle, remember?”

  Another cow joined the first.

  “Sounds like another cow needs milking,” Rachel said.

  They stepped up on to the porch of the hotel, then Hawke pushed the door open and they went inside. There was nobody behind the desk.

  “Hello?” Hawke called. His call got no response.

  They looked around the lobby of the hotel. It had two overstuffed chairs, a spittoon, a small table, and a dark blue carpet on the floor.

  “Mason, look. This clock has stopped too.”

  “Maybe the clerk is asleep,” Hawke suggested. He leaned over the check-in desk but saw no one.

  “I guess they don’t want our business,” Rachel said.

  “Well, they’re going to get our business, whether they want it or not,” Hawke said. Behind the counter he saw a big board of keys. From some of the hooks only one key hung; from others, two keys were hanging. He selected keys from a couple of the hooks that had two keys each.

  “You’ll be in Room 23, I’ll be in Room 24,” he said, handing her a key. He turned the registration book around and started to sign it but paused when he saw one of the names.

  “Rachel, Tangeleno and Vizzini are here,” Hawke said quietly.

  Rachel gasped. “Here? In this hotel?”

  “Yes,” Hawke said. “One is in Room 22, the other is in Room 28.”

  Even as Hawke was identifying the room, he took the spare keys for rooms 22 and 28 down from the board. Then he pulled his pistol and spun the cylinder, checking the loads. “It looks like this time we have the upper hand.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I’m going to kill them,” Hawke said easily.

  With his pistol in hand, Hawke crossed the lobby and climbed the steps. Reaching the second floor, he heard a slapping sound from the far end of the hall and he spun quickly, cocking his pistol and bringing it up as he did so.

  The sound came from the open window at the far end of the hall. Wind was blowing against a windowshade, lifting it away from the window when the breeze was strong enough, letting it fall back as the wind waned.

  Chastising himself for being so jumpy, Hawke continued to walk down the hallway. He stepped as close to the wall as he could because he knew that the floorboards would be less likely to squeak or strain there.

  Moving very quietly, he reached Room 22 and stopped just outside the door. He put his ear to the door and listened to see if he could hear any sound that would indicate there was someone in the room.

  Hearing nothing, he put the key in the lock, turned it, then stepped back out of the way, expecting a fusillade of shots to come through the door.

  No shots were fired.

  With his weapon drawn, Hawke dived into the room. He rolled once, then came up with his gun cocked and pointing at the bed.

  The bed was empty.

&nb
sp; Quickly, Hawke looked all the way around the room.

  Like the bed, the room was empty.

  Hawke backed out into the hallway, then started trying other doors. Not one door was locked—and not one room was occupied.

  He went back downstairs.

  “Rachel?”

  Rachel rose up from behind the desk. “What happened?” she asked.

  “Nothing. The rooms were empty. The entire hotel is empty.”

  “The hotel is empty,” Rachel said. “If you ask me, this entire town is empty. We haven’t seen a living soul since we got off the train. I don’t mind telling you, I’m beginning to find this whole thing rather creepy.”

  “It does seem a little odd,” Hawke agreed. Hawke walked over to the front window and looked out onto the main street of Bellefont.

  “Do you see anyone out there?” Rachel asked.

  “No, not a soul. What’s the name of your friend’s store?”

  “Smalley’s.”

  “Let’s go find it.”

  “All right. Anything is better than hanging around in this mausoleum,” Rachel agreed.

  It wasn’t hard to find the store. It was right next door to the hotel. From the outside it looked as deserted as the street, but when Rachel tried the doorknob, she found that it was unlocked.

  “Oh, good, it’s open,” she said with a broad smile. The little bell on the door rang cheerily as Rachel pushed it open.

  “Louise!” Rachel called. “Louise, it’s me, Rachel!”

  No one responded to the call.

  “Now, don’t tell me there’s nobody here either,” Rachel said in frustration. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would they leave the store completely unlocked if there is nobody here?”

  The Reverend Timothy Gadbury looked at the eleven children who were tied together in the sanctuary of the church. They had been here since early morning and the children, as well as the people of the town, were exhausted.

  At least they weren’t starving—or dying for lack of water. Tangeleno had allowed some of the women to leave the church long enough to prepare food and bring water for everyone. But he chose only the mothers of the children so he could be sure they would come back.