Overland Stage

by Paul Lederer

  Cameron Black, from his knee, the bead on the Winchester’s barrel nestled in the iron ‘V of his rear sight, did not miss. The .44.40 bullet racketed from the muzzle of the rifle. The recoil nudged the Winchester’s brass butt plate sharply against Cam’s shoulder. The impact against Dockery’s chest was much sharper, slamming his body back from the saddle as a bloody smear painted his white shirt. The roan bucked its rider free and bolted for the oak grove, leaving Dockery, already dead, flat on his back against the red earth of the station yard.

  Eleanor rushed to Cam, but he motioned her away.

  ‘There’s another one,’ he hissed. Understanding, she crouched in the shadowed corner, her arms thrown around her drawn-up knees.

  Cameron wiped the perspiration from his eyes and waited, searching the depths of the dark oaks. He was certain that Monty was out there somewhere – and possibly many other comancheros; there was no way to be sure – but where were they?

  It was then that the racketing of a dozen guns sounded across the yard, echoing violently, like rolling thunder. Who …?

  And then he saw the blue uniforms of the arriving cavalrymen.

  Eleanor rose shakily at his gesture and she came beside him, gripping his arm. ‘Is it over now?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Cameron answered grimly. ‘It’s all over now.’ And he led her back toward the way-station where the body of men was swinging down from their army bays, the sun glinting on the drawn sabers of their officers.

  There was a captain leading them, a gruff-appearing man with a long silver mustache and a set of ‘Burnside’ whiskers. And, dismounting now there was a tall, blond, fine-looking young lieutenant who rushed to meet Eleanor as the smoke settled across the camp.

  Lieutenant Lyle McMahon’s face was dark with concern as he reached out his arms toward Eleanor. It seemed to him that she clung just a little too long to the arm of the stranger, but now she rushed to him with vast relief. He took her in his embrace, but it seemed that her eyes slid away from his toward the tall man who was tramping up the station steps toward the open door.

  ‘Are you all right, Eleanor? You’ve been through hell, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said very softly. Her fingers were on his shoulders, but when, after glancing back toward Captain Collins, McMahon bent to kiss her lips, she deflected him, her head turning ever so slightly so that his kiss fell on her cheek. Frowning, McMahon put his arm around the frightened woman’s shoulders and walked with her to the station.

  Captain Collins was already inside. As were Aunt Mae amd the wounded station master, Tabor, and his wife, Dora. In the corner, sagged into a leather-bottomed chair, sat the stranger McMahon had discovered with Eleanor. A disheveled little man with a round face watched from the kitchen doorway as Collins reported to the civilians.

  ‘We only yesterday received a report of the Apache raid. Then, of course, when the stage did not reach Fort Wingate on schedule, we became even more concerned.’

  ‘We heard your gunfire,’ Stan Tabor said.

  ‘Yes. A well-known comanchero called Monty was spotted prowling in the oak grove. He panicked and opened fire. My troopers shot him. I have a patrol out now, searching for others who might be lurking. What is they were after, Mr Tabor?’

  ‘Why, the payroll, of course,’ Tabor said, shifting his injured leg as Dora rubbed his shoulders.

  Eleanor stood next to Lieutenant McMahon, listening. She seemed to shrink away from the arm he had around her shoulders. Glancing down, the young officer noticed that her gaze was on the rangy, somehow familiar man sitting loosely in the corner chair.

  ‘You’ll show them where it is, won’t you, Riley?’ Stan Tabor asked, his eyes heavily lidded.

  ‘ ’Course,’ Cameron agreed lazily.

  ‘This is the man you have to thank for saving the payroll,’ Tabor went on.

  ‘And for saving us!’ Eleanor blurted out. ‘I would still be a captive of those outlaws if Riley hadn’t come to my rescue.’

  Captain Collins pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. ‘We all seem to owe you our thanks,’ the cavalry officer said. ‘Just who are you, young man?’

  ‘He’s our new line driver,’ Stan Tabor said quickly, before Cameron could answer. ‘He took over when Kyle Post was injured. Now that Kyle – unfortunately – has passed away from his wounds, Riley is our man.’

  ‘He saved us all from the outlaws,’ Aunt Mae put in, coming forward a few steps.

  ‘His name is not Riley!’ The outburst issued from Axel Popejoy who rushed suddenly into the middle of the room, startling all of them. The drummer waved his arms frantically. ‘He’s Cameron Black, a known killer and thief! I’m claiming the reward on this man,’ he panted, leveling a stubby finger at the relaxed man in the corner. ‘Five hundred dollars. You can check out everything I’m telling you.’

  ‘The man’s wrong,’ Stan Tabor said, glancing only briefly at Cameron. ‘His name’s Riley. He’s our relief driver.’

  ‘His name is Riley,’ Aunt Mae said with quiet assurance.

  ‘I tell you he’s Cameron Black!’ Popejoy persisted vehemently.

  ‘After this man saved your life!’ Eleanor said, angrily confronting Popejoy. ‘How can you make such accusations?’

  Captain Collins pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘It appears we have some sort of disagreement here. Riley, you’ll have to come along with us to the fort until someone can verify your identity.’

  ‘There’s no need, sir,’ Lyle McMahon said. He had been watching Eleanor’s eyes, seeing the concern – and something deeper – in them. Looking directly into Cameron’s eyes he told the captain. ‘I have encountered the outlaw, Cameron Black. This is not him.’

  Collins nodded and said decisively, ‘Well, that settles that. I apologize, Mr Riley. For the rest of it – if you will show us where the strongbox is, we can proceed to Wingate. Who will be traveling? Miss Gates? Mrs Gates? Fine. Mr Popejoy, is it?’ the captain said with distaste. ‘You, I suppose. Then, Mr Riley, is there any reason we can’t be on our way?’

  ‘The horses are pretty beat up, Captain,’ Cameron said, rising stiffly from his chair.

  ‘Understandable. We’ll take it easy, I promise.’ To Stan, the captain said, ‘Mr Tabor, the surgeon will arrive soon. You will understand we didn’t want to bring him into a difficult situation. I am sorry about Kyle Post. He was a good man.’

  ‘The best,’ Stan Tabor said, limping forward to shake hands with the captain. ‘But we have a fine young replacement in Riley, here.’

  ‘So it seems,’ the captain said, nodding.

  ‘We thank you so much, Captain,’ Dora Tabor said, taking the officer’s hand gently. Then to Lieutenant McMahon, ‘And you, too, sir.’ There was only the slightest hint of a wink as she took his hand in turn.

  Outside the dry wind was blowing. Cameron Black looked to the big sky and shook his head. He had dodged a bullet, he knew. He ought to feel like the luckiest man in the world, but he did not. He saw Popejoy climb glumly into the stagecoach and then watched as the handsome young cavalry officer handed Eleanor Gates up.

  No, he thought, he did not feel so lucky at all. The sky was clear and the day warming. The yellow dog had slunk home to be welcomed into Dora’s kitchen. The off-wheel horse glanced at Cameron with an accusing eye and stamped its hoof twice as he drew himself up into the box and started the coach toward Fort Wingate.

  TEN

  It wasn’t bad work. Not with a fresh team waiting every fifty miles, not after horses and driver alike knew the long trail. There was always a hot meal waiting at every way-station along the road. Now and then you met someone interesting to talk to and swap stories with. The pay was regular and the country was a whole lot safer since the army had cleaned out the comanchero nest in Ranchita. Once only did a stick-up man try to stop one of Cameron Black’s stages. Cam had only grinned at him and laid on the whip, leaving the would-be robber standing perplexed and frustrated on the side of the road, bathed in a wash of red dust
spun up from the stagecoach’s passing wheels.

  Calico Station was always his favorite stop. Stan Tabor still walked with a limp, but a slight one, and always wore a welcoming smile. Dora always insisted on preparing a special meal for Cameron no matter what she had already cooked for the passengers. Overnight stays ended with Tabor smoking his pipe, Dora at his side on the settee, Cameron with his boots off relaxing before the low-glowing fire in the big stone fireplace, the yellow hound that had come to know him, at his feet.

  ‘We got word to pass on to you, Riley,’ Tabor said, relighting his pipe. ‘Good news.’

  ‘Oh?’ Cameron asked lazily. The fire was warm and its glow lulling. He had put in a long day on the trail and his muscles were stiff.

  ‘There is some money,’ Dora said, her earnest dark face creasing with a smile.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Cameron said, opening his eyes as the dog shifted position on the floor.

  ‘There’s a reward due you for recovering the army gold,’ Tabor said.

  ‘I didn’t exactly recover it,’ Cameron said with a laugh.

  ‘Well, that’s how they termed it when we were told. Little matter what you call it. They want you to go into the army post proper when you arrive at Fort Lyon. You’re supposed to talk to either Captain Collins, or if you can’t find him, the disbursement officer.’

  ‘It is a lot, Riley,’ Dora said, with an eager seriousness. ‘Five per cent of the money. What is that, Stan? Six hundred dollars, no?’

  ‘Six hundred,’ Stan agreed with a nod. The station master leaned forward and spoke gravely, ‘Riley, that’s nearly two years’ wages. A man could do a lot with it. There’s good land around here going for a song. A man could set up a small ranch if he was of a mind.’

  ‘I don’t have any wish to go cowboying,’ the man they called Riley said, stretching his arms over his head. ‘Tried it a time or two. Nothing like spending your days looking at the back ends of cows on the trail.’

  ‘Just a notion,’ Stan Tabor said, leaning back on the settee once again. ‘A notion I had when I was younger. I never could get the capital together to start.’

  ‘You could build a small house for six hundred dollars,’ Dora said, her eyes fire-bright and encouraging.

  ‘Me?’ Cameron Black laughed. ‘I’ve no use for a house. I’m on the road day and night and when I need to sleep – well, there’s the way-stations where folks cook for me and if needed, wash out my clothes. No, I’ve no use for one. I will tuck it away in a bank, though. This job,’ he said, nodding at Tabor’s gimpy leg, ‘a man never knows what might happen.’

  He yawned and stretched again and told them, ‘I’m turning in now, folks. I thank you, as always for your hospitality. Stan? Help me with the harnesses in the morning?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Cameron nodded his thanks, rose and walked down the hall past the warm kitchen to his back room where he stretched out, hands behind his head and stared into the darkness. All things considered, he was a lucky man, he thought. His stomach was full of Dora’s good food, he had a roof over his head; the law was no longer chasing him. There was plenty to be thankful for, and little to regret.

  It was only when he reached Fort Wingate that the old feeling returned. A feeling that all was not right with his world and that time was something passing him by in a long, useless parade of days.

  Dropping off the only two passengers he was carrying, an older couple out to visit their son stationed at the fort, he turned the team toward the stable and handed them over to the hostler. Stretching the kinks from his joints, Cameron walked out into the sunset. The fort proper with its serrated palisade was a quarter of a mile away. The bugler was just sounding retreat, the flag slowly descending its staff as Cam considered visiting the disburser.

  Too late, he decided. It was too late for many things.

  He looked up and down the street, wondering what to do with himself. He was not especially hungry and it was too soon to turn in. He heard the random, raucous sounds from a nearby saloon and dismissed that idea. He had no fondness for being locked in a room with half a hundred armed men intent on seeing how drunk they could get.

  Sighing, he returned to the coach and removed his carpetbag. He would at least get settled in the hotel, tug his boots off for a time, then most likely go out for a small supper.

  He started up the boardwalk toward the hotel, watching the ladies bustling home after their shopping hours, the few straggling cowboys sitting their horses loosely, heads turning this way and that, seeking out a hot spot to spend their wages in.

  He had nearly reached the hotel door when he saw a familiar figure sitting peacefully on the bench there, watching the fading sunset, its vast pink and violet spread painting a lurid yet fascinating picture above the dark distances.

  ‘Aunt Mae?’ Cameron said, and the lady’s eyes lifted from reverie.

  ‘Why, Mr Riley!’ She started to rise, but Cam motioned her back and sat beside her, carpetbag between his feet.

  ‘How’s that shoulder of yours?’ he asked, noticing that she no longer wore her arm in a sling.

  ‘Nearly mended,’ Aunt Mae said brightly. ‘Though it aches a little in the mornings – a sign of age, maybe.’

  They sat in silence for a long while, watching the color fade from the sky. A single star could now be seen, poking its brilliant silver light through the sheer screen of vaguely pinkish clouds.

  Finally Aunt Mae turned her eyes directly to him, her strong features set with seriousness. ‘She’s in room four.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Eleanor’s in room number four, I said. You had better go up and talk to her. Now. Before we leave for the East.’

  ‘I don’t quite … it doesn’t seem she would want to see me.’ Cameron hesitated and added, ‘I don’t think Lt McMahon would be happy about it either.’

  Aunt Mae’s gaze was direct. Her words were firm. ‘I believe very strongly, Mr Riley, that you should go and see her. I don’t mean later. Do it now, before the last hint of color has faded from the sky.’

  She spoke so deliberately that it was almost a command. Cameron just studied her concerned eyes for a long moment and then nodded. ‘All right. I will, if you think it’s proper.’

  ‘I think it is necessary,’ Mae said in response. Her eyes returned to the skies, but from their corners she watched as Cameron Black rose hesitandy, carpetbag in hand, and entered the open door of the small hotel.

  Eleanor Gates opened the door at his third knock, gasped slightly, stepped aside and invited him in.

  ‘What a surprise,’ she said. She walked to the window, open to the night where the rising evening breeze toyed with the sheer curtains. Looking out at the streets, the desert beyond the town, she said without facing him, ‘I had hoped you would come. I needed to talk to you, but there’s no way to catch up with you when you’re working, is there?’

  ‘No,’ Cameron said uneasily. What did she want of him? He seated himself in a straight-backed wooden chair, bag on his lap and waited. A couple passed by the open doorway and disappeared around the corner of the hall, speaking in light, amused voices. Finally Eleanor turned back toward him. Her eyes were damp in the lanternlight.

  ‘Did Aunt Mae tell you that we’re going back East, to Baltimore?’

  ‘Yes, she did. But what about—?’

  ‘About Lyle, our wedding plans?’ she provided. Smiling she paced the room and then seated herself on the edge of the bed, facing him. He waited.

  ‘We called it off,’ Eleanor said, and Cameron’s heart gave a small unexpected leap.

  ‘Why?’ he was forced to ask. ‘He’s a fine man, it seemed to me. What he did for me back in Calico … why, that was noble of him.’

  ‘It was!’ Eleanor agreed instantly. ‘I saw that he was not only a fine-looking man but a decent man. He proved that to me at Calico Station. That was one reason I decided to go ahead with our marriage.’

  She went on with her head bowed, her hands claspe
d. ‘But by the time we reached Fort Wingate we both knew that something was missing. That what we had felt in Baltimore by moonlight was gone. Something,’ she said earnestly, lifting her dark eyes to his, ‘had been lost along the trail West. And something new had been found.’

  ‘What?’ he asked, rising to his feet, and she answered in a small voice before she rose to join him in an embrace.

  ‘You,’ she told him, and beyond the window the last color of the skies was overwhelmed by the warm arriving night and a million stars began to twinkle on one by one above the long desert.

  About the Author

  Paul Lederer spent much of his childhood and young adult life in Texas. He worked for years in Asia and the Middle East for a military intelligence arm. Under his own name, he is best known for Tecumseh and the Indian Heritage Series, which focuses on American Indian life. He believes that the finest Westerns reflect ordinary people caught in unusual and dangerous circumstances, trying their best to act with honor.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2006 by Logan Winters

  Cover design by Michel Vrana

  ISBN: 978-1-4804-8848-9

  This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

  345 Hudson Street

  New York, NY 10014

  www.openroadmedia.com

  EBOOKS BY PAUL LEDERER

  FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA

  Available wherever ebooks are sold