"It isn't as ridiculous as it sounds," Snyder said. "I stopped two trains that way in the Atlanta campaign."
"Snyder was a major under Uncle Billy Sherman when he marched down to Savannah," Jess said. "He really learned how to ruin an enemy."
"But the horses will shy at the log," Taw said.
"No sir!" Charley insisted. "First place, there's no place for 'em to shy to where we're puttin' that paper log. Steep, narrow walls. Second place, they're gonna be so scairt by the shootin', and the dynamite on top of that, that nothing'll stop 'em but busted legs."
"That is, until I want them stopped," Snyder continued, "which is about eighteen minutes later, coming down from the top of Rabbit Ear Pass. At this point—here—they cross a log abutment where the trail was washed out by rain a few years ago. Beneath the logs there's a framework of timber propping them up. When that coach, which weighs roughly seven tons, counting cargo, steel plating and horses, starts to cross that abutment, it's going to cave in."
"And the whole God-damned works is going to roll about three hundred feet down the side of the mountain and right into our hands!" Jess said merrily.
"We load the gold on mules and get out," Snyder went on. "There are other details to fill in later, when we find whether the shipment is bullion or dust. Right now the question is are you with us?"
"Couple of other questions first." Taw rubbed his chin and inhaled on the cheroot. "How can you be sure the Sioux war party will be there?"
"Iron Eyes is half-brother to Chief Spotted Wolf."
"I've heard of Spotted Wolf. Thought he was living and letting live these days."
"He is. But when we want him, he's going to be at Stony Flat with blood in his eyes."
"All right. Let that pass for now. What's to prevent those outriders from crossing after the bridge goes?"
"Sawtooth Creek is a deep, dry bed. For several miles north from the bridge, the bank is twenty to forty feet straight up and down. Those outriders are going to be so busy keeping their scalps that they aren't going to try to ride south along the creek to where it shallows out. The Sioux will have them flanked in that direction. They'll do what they have to do. Ride north for all they're worth."
"Suppose everything goes as planned, but the doors slam shut after the men inside jump? How will you get into Old Ironsides once she stops rolling down the mountain?"
"Her doors will probably stay open, but we can't afford to count on that. Jess got one of the men who drives the gold coach drunk while he had the key on him. He took it long enough to have a copy made."
"It was easy," Jess said. "I'm one of his best friends, so he figured there wasn't no harm in tyin' one on with me."
"Let me make one thing clear, Taw." Snyder reached inside his coat for a Havana cigar and bit the end off. "At each crucial moment in this series of events, I've got a top man to do the job that has to be done. Iron Eyes is our Indian expert to work with the Sioux. He ought to be expert, being half-Indian himself. I've got a man to blow up the bridge that was teethed on a powder fuse. I've got Charley here for mules and the wagon the gold will be transferred to later. And there's no better muleskinner or wagoner available on the face of the earth. I've got Jess for the key to the coach, and vital information on when Old Ironsides is running and how much she's carrying. And if I get you, it'll be complete."
"And what am I supposed to be an expert on?"
"You're our insurance. You're a gunman. I want you up on the pass when the coach rolls down the hill. If any unforeseeable detail or coincidence should place some enemy fire power in that vicinity, I want you there to take care of it. And I can tell you already that the haul is going to be a lot more than originally expected. Jess is getting rumors of a shipment bigger than any ever made before, which means more than a third of a million dollars. Are you with us?"
"After the way Sheriff Wiley carried on, talkin' to you this morning, I got no doubt what your answer's going to be," Jess said.
Taw leaned back. He tried to weigh both sides of the proposition rationally, but all that came to mind was a picture of Jess's wife telling him that she was a dance-hall girl and he was a gunslinger and no one would ever let them change.
Taw shrugged. "I'm with you."
"Good!" Snyder clapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Let's have a small round of that whisky, Charley, if there's any of it left."
"Welcome to the club." Jess passed the bottle to Taw for first go. "We can't miss now, with my big brother ridin' herd on us."
Snyder took the next drink and relaxed in his chair. "The whole Fork is buzzing with the story of how you shot Sam Boicourt last night."
Charley Hill didn't try to conceal the look of sudden pain that came into his eyes. "Boicourt? I hadn't got no word of it. Got in town drunk early this mornin'."
"He tried to spin around and get Taw in the back," Jess said. "I called out to Taw, and he came around and shot him just in time."
"No," Charley muttered, "you must be wrong 'bout that. Sam never woulda done it that way. He was a mean, ornery cuss, I admit, but he was honest with his gunplay and he was a friend 'a mine."
"I'm sorry," Taw said. "I wish there was something I could do to set back the clock."
"No matter, now. Sure hate to see you young, healthy, lively boys shootin' each other full of deadness, though. It's a cryin' waste."
Snyder looked at his watch. "Let's go up to my place, Taw. You can meet the other member of our group."
"I'll come along," Jess said.
"I want you to come too," Snyder told Iron Eyes.
"See you tomorrow," Charley murmured. "Right now I'm gonna put the candle by my bed and read a little."
"You can't read, Charley," Jess laughed.
"Come on," Taw said. "Charley can read better than you and me."
From the President Saloon as they passed in the early night, they could hear the high, wailing voice of a man singing,
Quicker and sure was his gunplay,
Till the heart in his body lay dead,
When a tinhorn insulted her picture,
And he filled him full of lead....
A burst of laughter from the saloon drowned out the song and a little later they went into an alley of Pawnee Street and climbed the stairs to Snyder's apartment above the general store.
In the dark at the top of the landing, a sad-faced, slender man was waiting. "Got here early," he said in a husky whisper. "Hope you don't mind my waiting outside here like this, Mr. Snyder."
"Want you to meet Jack Tawlin, Wes. Wes Catlin." Snyder introduced them as he inserted the key and opened the door. Inside he said, "Tawlin is the last member to be brought in, Wes." To Taw he said, "Catlin is our explosives expert."
Jess added, "Wes sleeps at night with a sack of black powder under his head instead of a pillow."
Wes shook his head slowly. "No, Mr. Tawlin. Jess and the fellows fun me a lot because explosives are about the only thing I ain't scared of, I guess. But I've found that black powder will do pretty much what you want and expect it to do, if you treat it right. It ain't like people that way."
"Did you get the things you needed in Deadwood?" Snyder asked him.
"Yes sir. After we studied the bridge together, if you recollect, I figured two sticks at each of four places would do it right. I've got eight sticks and fuses, plus enough wire and galvanic battery. It'll work out just fine. Is there any word when it will be?"
"Fairly soon. They're arranging for a larger shipment than they've ever made before. No specific date yet."
The big half-breed finally spoke. "Time to visit Spotted Wolf once more?" he asked Snyder.
"What about his son?"
"His son die four nights past."
"Tomorrow will be a good time to see him, then. We'll probably need his warriors within five or six days." Snyder turned to Taw. "You can go with Iron Eyes and take a look at the land around Sawtooth Bridge. The tribe isn't too far away from there, Iron Eyes tells me. I'd like you to study the land, know i
t perfectly."
"I'll be on road one mile south of Fork at sunup," Iron Eyes said. He turned and went out of the room.
"If you ain't got nothing more to tell me," Wes Catlin said, "I'll be getting along home. My wife is fretful these days."
With Catlin gone, Snyder poured brandy for himself and the other two. "Jess says that you know Indians, Taw. That you lived, with the Chiracahua Apaches for a year, and that you once spent several months with the Sioux. Do you speak the language?"
"A little."
"Fine, I want you to double-check on Iron Eyes. See if Spotted Wolf and his braves are as outraged as they should be. I want them ready for war."
"This war talk tie in with the death of the chief's boy?"
"Yes. The youngster was shot by a white man a week ago while he was hunting with Iron Eyes and some other Sioux. Iron Eyes has promised to find who did it so the chief can be revenged. Obviously, the man will turn out to be one of the guards on Old Ironsides."
"You're right, then," Taw agreed. "When that bridge blows those outriders will have to ride north for all they're worth. Who did kill the Indian boy?"
"That was one of those once-in-a-million chances," Jess said. "Some drunk with a grudge against redskins, or a hunter who did it by accident. Guess nobody'll ever rightly know."
Taw rolled the brandy around in his glass. "You can count on the Sioux being worked up enough to take on the whole U.S. Army if need be."
"I believe that. But I want you to be with Iron Eyes to make sure. Also, I want one of us besides Iron Eyes to know how to get to the Sioux camp. If something should happen to the breed, we would possibly be able to go ahead. I want to do everything humanly possible for the success of my plan. I want nothing to go wrong."
"I'm beginning to figure nothing will. Let's go, Jess."
On the street below, Jess said, "You're almighty sober and serious. You never used to be this way."
"I guess it was trying to walk the straight and narrow for a while there. Threw me, kind of."
"Well, I never figured it would take so much doing, but you're going to be getting back to normal now. Why don't we loosen you up some more? Get you in a real good, knock-down and drag-out drunk?"
Taw grinned. "Damn my creaking old hide if you ain't probably right, kid."
"Good. I ain't heard a good loud laugh out of you in the two days you been here. When you come back from seeing Spotted Wolf tomorrow, we'll tie one on that this old town won't forget for a while."
A coach rumbled down the road past them and came to a stop before the express office. "That's Old Boary ridin' whip," Jess said. "I'll go over and have a talk with him. See you at my place."
Taw knocked at the door and Christine opened it almost immediately. "Come in. No need for you to knock at the door of the house where you live, Taw." In the parlor she said, "I've been holding supper."
"Jess will be along directly."
Christine shut the parlor door and leaned against it. "I'm sorry for talking to you the way I did this morning. I shouldn't have tried to make my problems yours, by bringing them up that way."
"I'd want you to feel free to talk to me about anything, any time."
Her blue eyes met his in a steady gaze and there was a momentary warmth deep within them. "There is something about you, Taw, that does make me feel free to talk to you." She smiled. "And I'm grateful to you for that. If Jess is due soon, I'd better see to supper."
A few minutes after she'd left the room, Jess hurried in and told Taw in an excited, low voice, "Old Boary told me that they're almost ready to make that big haul! It's so God-damned big not even Boary knows how much it is yet! But it'll be the biggest this spur of the stageline ever yet made!"
"When?"
"He still ain't sure. But it's gonna be before Holiday heads back for Chicago. That makes it sooner'n five days!"
Chapter Four
TAW RODE his pinto out of Pawnee Fork before sunup. The gelding felt peppy in the chill morning air and he had to hold it down to a quick, snorting trot. To his left there was a great, pink glow to the sky that gave way to deepening purple overhead and to his right. The dusty cool ground below him stretched out flat and level, rising gradually as it swung to the hills in the south.
Iron Eyes was waiting for him, his huge outline slouched down over the pommel of a rawhide and woodframe Indian saddle. A woven band girthed his big, shaggy sorrel mare who had a long unkempt mane.
The half-breed pulled his single rein and ranged in alongside Taw, his mare lumbering into a stride that matched the pinto's. "Got whisky?"
"Sorry."
Iron Eyes grunted sullenly and they rode on silently through the still morning air.
After two hours they passed an open wagon loaded with furniture and household goods. It was headed at a slow pace toward Pawnee Fork, pulled by two long-eared mules. A man was driving, and his wife, a fat woman nursing a baby at her breast, sat beside him on the seat. Taw nodded and the man waved.
"How far to Pawnee?"
" 'Bout eleven miles. Make it by noon."
Soon, beyond a red, round boulder the size of a house, Iron Eyes neck-reined his sorrel off the road and led Taw through a wide valley scattered with clumps of jointweed. At a muddy creek they stopped to water their horses. Iron Eyes got down and stretched out on his stomach to drink. He turned on the ground, stared up at Taw and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Good woman to have."
"What?"
"The woman on the wagon good for a man to have."
Taw didn't try to keep the edge of disgust out of his voice. "Let's move on."
The breed shifted slowly to his feet, his face shadowed with anger. "Think you better than me?"
Taw turned in the saddle and looked at the big man levelly, "I know it for a fact."
Iron Eyes took one step forward and Taw waited motionlessly, his casual posture not giving away the sudden surge of steel tension and ready power coursing through his body. The breed paused and shook his head once.
"No. There is too much to lose."
He took his sorrel's rein abruptly and stepped toward the mare. The suddenness of his movement startled her and she shied a nervous step away from him. The quick anger piled up in the giant breed broke loose and he swung his great, clubbed fist down at the mare's head. She caught his tremendous blow in the middle of the wide blaze on her forehead, its crashing fury sending her sideways and to her knees. She had one foreleg under her when the breed struck the second time. The ferocious blow landed on her neck just above her withers. It unbalanced her, and the half-ton Indian pony sprawled to the ground. By the time she'd stumbled to her feet he was aboard her, hauling back hard on the vicious Spanish bit. The mare knew her jaw would break if she fought. Ears back, nostrils wide with terror and hurt, she trembled but did not move until he pushed her into a walk.
Iron Eyes was pleased with himself. "Ever seen a man knock a horse down with bare hands?"
"Can't say I have."
"If I hit you, it break your back."
Taw relaxed now that the fight had become talk. "Or your arm," he muttered.
Iron Eyes grunted and they continued in silence as the sun inched higher toward the top of the sky. Far to their left, lashed to a platform held on twenty-foot-high poles, Taw saw a Sioux burial blanket. He knew that inside the wrapped blanket was a warrior, with food and weapons beside him. The poles were meant to lift him away from the earth, to give him a good start on his journey to the spirits in the heavens above.
Then, marking the approach to the camp, they came upon a war shield made of the toughest part of a buffalo hide, the thick hump from above the neck. It was held on short poles and it guarded the camp from evil spirits.
Taw noticed the sentries first. They were two miles away, standing just below the rim of a low-slung hill. The two human dots in the distance grew larger as Taw and Iron Eyes approached. Finally one sentry hurried over the hill to report their coming. The other cocked an ancient flintlock and chal
lenged Iron Eyes from behind a protecting rock. "Who comes with you, Eyes-of-Iron?"
"I travel with a friend." Iron Eyes spoke in the quick, lilting monosyllables of the Sioux tongue, and Taw was impressed as always with how fluent and graceful an Indian became when speaking his own language. "Is Eyes-of-Iron no longer free to move as the wind in and out of the camp of his brother Wolf-with-Spots?"
"You must wait until welcome comes from Wolf-with-Spots. The elders have said that no stranger shall enter without word coming to them first. This will be so until Wolf-with-Spots has put a child into one of his women. The shaman has promised that this will be a man child and that the line of Wolf-with-Spots shall be maintained."
"Would I bring a stranger into your midst who would harm my own brother?" Iron Eyes demanded.
"That is for the elders to decide."
The other sentry hurried back over the ridge and whispered briefly to the guard with the flintlock, who in turn called, "Pass."
A winding stream coiled through the natural basin beyond the crest of the hill. The Sioux camp was pitched a quarter of a mile away along the banks of the creek, thin spirals of smoke from numerous cooking fires drifting lazily upward. A mob of curious children, most of them naked, were gathered in a straggly line reaching out toward where they knew the visitors were approaching. Amid the excited yapping of dogs and the shrill cries of the youngsters, Taw followed Iron Eyes into the Sioux village.
Half a dozen grim-faced warriors glanced up from a bed of glowing coals where they were fire-hardening sharp arrow tips until they would be nearly as tough as steel. Old and young women lined the way toward the medicine lodge. Taw's gaze roved from one side to the other, taking in every detail. The amount of stored grain, other arrow-making fires, horses pastured nearby—though the field across the slope of the basin was richer—the stern, silent faces of the young women who would usually be running alongside, laughing and shouting for attention. This was a tense, angry camp, ready to move on quickly, ready to fight.
The opening before the medicine lodge filled quickly with warriors as Iron Eyes and Taw rode forward. The flap, with a sun painted on it to keep the interior always warm, flew open and a small, wiry man in beaded shirt and pants came out.
The War Wagon Page 4
