Comstock Lode (1981)

by L'amour, Louis

  "That must've really hurt your feelin's."

  "He told me Trevallion knew us all, that he'd killed Rory and Skinner, and it was get him or Trevallion would notch his stick for us. It made sense. Besides," Waggoner smiled, revealing his big, strong teeth. "He give me three hundred dollars. Ever' time something like that come up, it was three hundred."

  "No wonder you ain't killed him."

  "I tried. Believe me, I tried. Kip Hauser tried it, too, and Kip's dead."

  "Kip was no gunfighter. Never knew him to kill anybody he couldn't stick. He was a knife man."

  "He tried it. You got to remember Skinner, too. Obie was mighty damn good with a gun. Trevallion is no easy job."

  "The three of us," Rig said. "We could box him."

  "Wait, let's see if this does him in. This could do it."

  "Hold on, Wag. Wait just a minute. Who is this gent who comes up with three hundred dollars ever' now and again? Where's he get his money? What's his stake in this?"

  Waggoner took up a tin pail and began packing a few odds and ends for his lunch. "Asked myself that. I figure he was in it, too. He's scared of Trevallion. Wants him dead."

  "You think he was the one who got the money?"

  "Well, I think he's well-off now." Waggoner paused, considering. "Maybe a gambler. They have money."

  "More than likely it is somebody else, somebody with something to lose. If you're goin' into that mine to do what I think you're plannin', how is he so sure Trevallion will be down there? That ain't Trevallion's mine. I think he's after somebody else."

  "I'd be curious," Les suggested. "I'd be wonderin' who this gent is who knows so much."

  "Look," Waggoner said. "Every now and again he has something needs doing. Each time I get three hundred. First time, that time I seen him, he warned me against tryin' to find out who he was, said he'd have me done in.

  "Hell, what do I care who he is? I been livin' it easy. You think I want to nose around an' mess that up? You got to be crazy."

  "Whoever it is," Les insisted, "he's got something to lose. Maybe he's away up there, big mining man or businessman."

  Waggoner opened the door and stepped outside. "You fellers want to earn your keep, you kill Trevallion. I can get you a hundred dollars apiece for that."

  Waggoner started down the trail, and Rig stared after him. "What's he talkin' about? A hundred dollars?"

  "That's a summer's work punchin' cows," Les said. "You an' me both have killed men for less, a lot less."

  There was silence in the room and then Rig said, "I don't like it, Les. I don't like somebody knowing about that thing back yonder. I don't care who he is."

  "What we goin' to do about it? We don't even know who he is, nor what he is."

  "Trevallion knows. He knows some of us, anyhow."

  "How could he? Nobody was around."

  "That's what we thought. He was probably hidin' in the brush, scared to death." Rig stuffed his pipe and tamped it down. "If he killed Rory and Skinner like they say, what's he waitin' on? He must know Waggoner's in town. Maybe he even knows about us."

  Rig was uneasy. He struck a match and lit his pipe. "We got to get him, Les. We got it to do, and before he can get us. He's planning something, you can bet on it."

  "To hell with him!" Les held an ace in his fingers, looking at the cards before him. "I'm thinking about the other gent, the one who can afford to pay Wag three hundred dollars ever' now and again. Why should Wag get it all?"

  "What's on your mind?"

  "Well, if he's so doggone anxious to have Trevallion killed, it's because he's scared himself or he's afraid he'll be exposed. We got us a pigeon, Rig. This man is somebody. He can't afford to have his past brought up; maybe he'd pay real money to have it all kept quiet. Maybe he'd pay us five thousand dollars to keep quiet, and then after a little while, another five thousand?"

  "What about Wag?"

  "You seen him givin' us any of that three hundred? And he won't, neither.Five thousand, Rig, split right down the middle. That's a lot of money, Rig."

  "I never seen that much. Never in my born days have I seen five thousand dollars all to oncet." He took his pipe from his lips and spat into the fire. "Don't do no good talkin'. We don't even know who he is."

  Les was silent while he studied the cards. "No, we don't, but we're goin' to find out. We're goin' to study on it. We're goin' to do a little ree-search, as the fellow said."

  "Hell! There must be ten thousand people on the Comstock! How do you pick one out of all that bunch?"

  "It won't be easy, but let's study on it. There's a whole lot of deadbeats, cardsharks, and crooks. We know who they are, and it won't be one of them. It's got to be somebody whois somebody, or seems to be. That narrows it down.

  "It's got to be somebody who was in Missouri in '49 or '50, long about that time. There's a whole lot who didn't come out until much later, and there are some who were in California before. And it's got to be somebody who was here in '59. You look at it that way, and the field's mighty thin."

  "What do we do?" Rig asked.

  "We go down to town. You go one way and I'll go the other, and we find some of the oldtimers and just get them talkin' about the good old days. Names will come up; if they don't, we bring 'em up. No time at all we will know who is still around, and from them we don't have much trouble sortin' out those who've done well, and so have somethin' to lose."

  He brought the deck together with a swift gesture and placed the deck, squared and neat, at the side of the table. "You an' me, Rig, we're goin' to have us some money!"

  Together they closed the shack and started down the rocky street toward town. Pausing at the corner of A Street and Union, Rig said, hesitantly, "Les? Just suppose he won't stand still for it? Suppose he decides to haveus killed?"

  "Hell," Les said, "he won't know who we are. Anyway, who are we? A couple of chickens? We don't kill easy, Rig. We can take care of ourselves. Anyway, who would he hire to kill us-Wag?"

  They started down toward C Street when Rig stopped suddenly. "Les? What about Wag? Supposin' he did hire Wag? Are we worth three hundred dollars apiece to Wag? The way he figures it, that's nigh onto two years of lazy, easy livin'."

  Les stared out over the town, thinking. "We got to think about that, Rig. We got to keep an eye on Wag. If this pigeon of ours doesn't come through, and quick-"

  "Yeah?"

  "Then we kill Wag. It'll be him or us."

  LII

  Trevallion was waiting when she came to the lobby. She hesitated a moment, watching him in conversation with Teale. He was a remarkably handsome man in his own rugged way, and he possessed a certain air, a certain style that was his own.

  That he would be wearing a pistol she knew. Here, in the quiet precincts of the International, those who wore weapons kept them from sight, and they were rarely seen unless worn by someone just in off the trail and seeking a drink or a room.

  Trevallion looked around and saw her, and the men crossed the room to where she stood. "You saw Hesketh?"

  "I did, and gave him his walking papers. I let him know that as of now he was no longer welcome at the Solomon and orders were to refuse him entry."

  "How'd he like that?" Teale asked.

  "He didn't. He was very angry, I think. I shall ask Mr. Teale if he will guard the mine for me, and-"

  "No," Trevallion interrupted.

  There was such finality in the word that she was startled. Teale had turned his eyes immediately to Trevallion.

  "I want Teale with you," Trevallion said. "I'll get one of Ledbetter"s boys to stand guard at the Solomon. You'll need at least two, one to spell the other so that he can rest. Teale must stay with you. I wouldn't feel safe with anybody else on the job. There isn't anybody in Nevada going to bother you with Teale around."

  "It shouldn't matter now," she protested. "He knows that he has no business there now, and he certainly will have none with me. I have laid claim to the mine and shall see that it is announced in theEnterprise
."

  "Do you believe that?"

  She hesitated, then shook her head quickly. "No, I don't. I think he is a mean, revengeful man who would stop at nothing. I offered to buy him out," she added.

  "And-?"

  "He was furious. It is obvious he believes the mine is his, stockholders or no."

  "Maybe I'd better go up there and look the place over for you," Trevallion suggested. "It has been some time since I've been there."

  "We will go," she smiled at him."We will go, Mr. Trevallion. After all, the mine is mine, or the largest piece of it."

  Margrita turned to Teale. "You can have something to eat. We won't be gone long, and you can take me to the theater."

  Teale nodded. "All right, ma'am. Some grub would taste right good." He started to say something else, but they were walking away.

  From his window in the International, Hesketh watched them go, taking out his watch to note the time. "Something else," he muttered, "I need something else."

  Had their guard arrived yet? He thought not. His own men would be gone. Santley would be there, but Santley always left early on Saturday afternoon to buy groceries for the coming week.

  The theater? There was no play tonight, as there had been a minor fire and some damage done, yet it was likely she would return to the theater to see how repairs were progressing and to check damaged scenery. It had been very little, after all, and they should be ready to open Sunday night.

  He permitted himself a little smile. They would be ready to open, but they never would. Not unless they had a new leading lady.

  He tapped lightly on the table, thinking carefully, trying to run an assay on every aspect of the problem.

  Teale, Teale had not gone with them, and Teale was a most careful man. Something must be done about Teale.

  He shook his head irritably. Too much, too close together. And he must take his walk at the wrong time if the message were to go out. He disliked breaking a pattern. It might be noticed. Still, there was no way he could be connected with any of it. He would be dining at his usual hour, in his usual place, and if all went smoothly it would be a clean sweep, and all must go well.

  One phase of his plan was already in progress, and the second phase must be the elimination of Jacob Teale. That elimination could be the something else he needed, the something that would distract attention and keep people from wondering what had become of Margrita and Trevallion.

  Margrita's guards would be in place soon, but only after Trevallion and the girl had reached the mine, and probably would be unaware of their presence there.

  The removal of Teale was of first importance as Teale would be suspicious, and he could not be distracted from what he conceived to be his duty.

  As he straightened his tie in the mirror, he was pleased with the reflection. He had planned well, although he did not like spur-of-the-moment planning. He liked time to consider, to gloat, to enjoy all the subtle details. On this occasion too much depended on the actions of other people, something for which he had a basic distrust.

  He was not worried about Waggoner. He had come to have absolute confidence in the big man. Waggoner took his time, he did what he was told, and he left no loose ends. Waggoner's part presented no worries. Of the other two he was not so sure. He knew them too little, but after meeting Teale there was a good chance he would not have to worry about them later. He would surely kill one and perhaps both. The important thing was that he be killed himself.

  Now for the note. First he composed it in his mind, then he printed it in neat block letters.

  FIND AND KILL JACOB TEALE. OUTSIDE INTERNATIONAL. $250 EACH. $500 IN ALL. MUST BE DONE TONIGHT. $200 NOW. REMAINDER WHEN JOB DONE.

  He read over the note. It was being done too swiftly, but there was no other choice. It was now or never, and he hoped his message would not be lost on Les and his partner.

  Two hundred fifty dollars each, $500 in all... in other words, the survivor might find himself with the whole $500, and no need to share. Might that not be a temptation too great to resist when a lot of shooting was going on, anyway?

  Waggoner would be at the Solomon or returning. The others would probably be at some saloon, yet even if they saw him, something he did not wish to happen, they would not long be around to enjoy their knowledge. He put on his hat, took up the cane he had begun carrying, and went down to the lobby.

  As he left the International he saw Teale from the corner of his eye, seated on a bench near the hotel door, where he often was.

  Virginia City was, even in late afternoon or evening, a noisy, busy town. Stamp-mills were going, compressors were pounding, teamsters cursing their mules, and the usual sounds of laughter, pianos, and bawdy song from the saloons.

  He had worked out several methods of getting messages to Waggoner, but none of these would work with Les and his partner, for they had not been instructed beforehand. He must take the risk and deliver the note right to Waggoner's cabin.

  What if Waggoner discovered it first? Well and good. Teale would be eliminated in any event, but then Teale might kill Waggoner and this Hesketh did not want. Waggoner he needed, for a little while longer.

  He wore his neat gray suit, and he strolled casually, pausing from time to time to look at the face of the city. He knew he would be observed and expected it, but he had already set the stage with his previous walks. They would dismiss him at a glance.

  There was no light in the window, although it was early for that, and there was no sign of activity. He paused, twice he picked up bits of rock and examined them before casting them aside. That, too, was the usual thing in Virginia City where everyone at the time had minerals on the mind.

  Pausing to study the rocks, he studied the cabin. It looked safe. After all, he could just say he was looking for a miner, he wanted more help at the Solomon.

  In his pocket was the note, and in his pocket was the gold. He hated to pay out money, but in this case there was at least a chance he would never have to complete the bargain. With luck they would take care of both Teale and each other.

  He paused again, touching his brow with a linen handkerchief. Still no movement. The place was probably empty.

  He knew where the note should go, as he had used the place before this. It was a mail slot made of an open-ended cigar box built into the wall. On the outside there was a little wooden door. He had never seen the inside.

  He glanced around. Nobody was around. Nobody was watching. He stopped in front of the cabin, lifting his fist to knock, then dropping his hand to open the slot. Inside he placed the note and the gold.

  He lowered the little door and turned away. He had not taken a step when he heard the door open behind him. He had taken a second step before he heard the voice.

  Inwardly, he cringed. He felt the muscles in his back tighten and he fought down an impulse to run. Then he turned as the voice said, "Well, look what we got here, Rig! We got us a visitor!"

  He knew their faces. They were older now, their features seamed with the tracks of years gone by, but they were the men he remembered.

  "How do you do, gentlemen? Can I help you in some way?"

  "You can tell us who you are."

  "I believe that would serve no purpose for either of us." The message was there, the gold was there. To attempt to play the innocent would be absurd. A bold face was needed. "We have little time for nonsense. Who I am or who you are does not matter. There is a note in the box. There is also the sum of two hundred dollars in gold. I would suggest you read the message, put the gold in your pockets, and do what is suggested. If you want the other three hundred."

  "He's talkin' money, Les. He really is. Maybe we should listen."

  "This money for us or for Waggoner?"

  "It is for you, but you must act quickly. The day after tomorrow, even tomorrow, and you'd be wasting time."

  "How'd you know about us?"

  "I make it my business to know useful people. I need an expert job done now, and I meannow. I'd prefer it be done w
ithin the next two hours."

  "And you got three hundred more when it's done? That's two-fifty apiece. Who is this guy?"

  "His name is Teale." Briefly, he described him. "A few minutes ago he was sitting on a bench down by the International. I would suggest you give him no warning."

  They both looked at him. "What's that mean?"

  "Only that he is armed, and I would presume such a man might be dangerous. So why get hurt? You can always say he was going for his gun. Or that he killed your maiden aunt back in Memphis."

  "Five hundred dollars? Way I heard it you didn't pay so much."

  "There are two of you. It must be done at once. You men are expert in your, your profession. For top work, I pay a top dollar."

  He drew out his watch. "I must be going, gentlemen, but I'd prefer the job be done within the hour. Tomorrow morning your three hundred dollars will be in that box."

  Rig leaned his shoulder against the door jamb. He had a sly, taunting look in his eyes. "Suppose we just keep the two hundred an' do nothin'?"

  Hesketh smiled, and it was not a nice smile. "Then it would be my problem, would it not? Fortunately, I have had it happen but once."

  Abruptly, he turned his back and walked away. When he was back on C Street he paused. Now, they would have to die, one way or another.

  He went inside and seated himself at his usual table in the dining room. TheTerritorial Enterprise and a San Francisco paper were folded neatly beside his place.

  He unfolded the paper and sat back in his chair a little. He was suddenly frightened.

  That man, that Jacob Teale, the way he had looked at him as he came up the steps. Almost as if heknew.

  But that was nonsense. How could he know? How could he even guess at what was to happen in the next few minutes?

  Nonetheless...

  Albert Hesketh folded his newspaper and placed it beside him. That fellow Twain was writing again, the one so many thought amusing. So far he had said nothing about the Solomon or about him, but if he didHe glanced at the menu, but it had not changed from the day before. He ordered, indicated his wine glass should be filled, and composed himself.