Throwback or not, Madigan trusted his instincts, and on more than one occasion doing so had saved his life. And he had good reason to be cautious now with all the gunmen in town. Madigan knew Durango would be no different than other towns he had passed through on his way to this time and place, so it might be better to leave while he could, before any trouble came his way.
It was too late! If Madigan had not been keyed up as much as he was, he might have missed the sound altogether. The sound was that of someone running behind him in the darkness. Madigan’s first thought was to step out onto Main Street where the light form the saloon would give away anyone following him. Then, as it had done countless times before, a flash of insight hit. Whoever was behind Madigan wanted him to do exactly that-move out into the light where he would make a clear target.
Madigan pulled himself close to the side of the building where he hoped his outline would not show. Slipping his Colt from its holster, Madigan waited. He didn’t have to wait long before the footsteps in the dark came closer. And whoever it was had the advantage on him, as there was no light behind the man to show his outline. Yet from where Madigan stood, he was between the man and Main Street. Any sudden move Madigan made would be revealed to him immediately. There was nothing for Madigan to do but keep still and see how the cards played out.
The footsteps stopped some fifteen feet from him. Had the man seen him? If he had, Madigan would have to act fast, for the advantage was still with the other man.
“What are you following me for?” Madigan asked while trying to judge the man’s exact location in the dark. No answer came forth, but from the sound of the man’s feet shifting around, he had not known where Madigan was until he spoke to him out of the darkness.
Then the answer to Madigan’s question came. A stab of flame followed by another. Madigan felt the two bullets strike the building close to his face splintering wood into his eyes, but his own gun was already spitting lead back through the night at the attacker. He shot six inches high, first to the right, then to the left of where he saw the flash from the other gun. The man must have been left-handed, for it was Madigan’s second shot that struck home, and he heard the man fall to the ground with a thud and little movement thereafter.
From his right he heard men yelling, then the swinging doors of the Pleasure Palace burst open and several tough-looking cowboys came running out. They appeared confused, probably trying to find where the shots had come from. Soon they were joined by three other men, and they all started toward the alley where Madigan was standing. They were still fifty yards away when Madigan slipped from the back of the alley and walked back to the livery stable.
“I told you there was trouble in town tonight! Did you get him?” Talley asked.
“What makes you think it was me who did the shooting, Roy?”
The old marshal spit some chew out before replying. “Cause I was on my way back to the other corral when I sees this fellow go into the alley behind you. I always go around back of the buildings so I won’t have to go by the saloon. Never know when some drunk might get to shooting and a stray bullet get me when I’m on my way home!” Roy exclaimed.
“I may yet die of a bullet, but it won’t be from the gun of a drunk if I can help it.” He spit out another stain of tobacco. It caught the wind and splashed on Madigan’s boots.
“Sorry about that,” Roy said with a sheepish grin. “Now like I was saying, this hombre follows you into the alley, but before he does, he pulls his gun out of its holster. Don’t take no durn fool to know what he’s up to.
“I ran for my shotgun and was just slipping into the alley when all hell broke loose. Seemed like a small army in there. Only took a moment to realize you didn’t need my help, and if you did it was too late by then anyhow. And I didn’t want to be around when the rest of them hombres came hunting trouble.”
As they stood talking, Roy was facing the alley from which Madigan had just come. The barn door was open and Madigan’s back was to it, shielding him from anyone in that direction. Roy was standing slightly out from the door and had a good view of the entrance to the alley.
“Speaking of hunting trouble, here it comes now. You better get into the barn before they get here,” Roy ordered.
“I can handle my share of trouble, if that’s what they want,” Madigan replied.
“Just do an old man a favor and get out of sight! I’m getting too damned old to be patching holes in my barn roof. And sure enough, if more shooting starts there’s bound to be one of them gunmen get hit right off. And while he’s falling, shoot two, three holes in my roof, or maybe me. So if you don’t mind, I’ll handle this so no one gets hurt, ‘specially me!”
Madigan liked this old man and decided to play it his way. So he moved into the shadows where he would be unseen but would still have a clear shot if need be when the group of men approached.
“Howdy, boys. What’s on your mind this evening?” the old marshal asked calmly.
A heavy set, gruff-voiced man stepped forward to act as spokesman for the rest. “Our friend’s been murdered and we’re hunting the bastard that did it! You see anything back here, old man?”
Roy Talley should have been an actor, Madigan thought as he watched the old marshal facing the gunmen.
“Not a thing, ‘cept Naci Yellow Hand. Don’t recall hearing no shots though. Course, I’m getting a little old and my mind sometimes wanders.”
“You say you saw a man named Yellow Hand. What kind’ve man would be called Yellow Hand?” the man demanded of Talley.
“Not a man, least not like you or me. .”
“Never mind, old man. Did he come out of the alley?”
“Yep,” Roy said absentmindedly.
“Well, man, what way did he go?”
“Who?”
“Yellow Hand!”
Roy’s eyes opened wide at the name. “Yellow Hand around here?” he said as he started for the barn.
“Old man, where ya goin’ so fast?” the gruff voice asked. “We’re not done with you yet!” the man shouted after Roy, a puzzled look on his face.
Roy turned back for an instant. “Got to lock up if that Apache is around. Never know where he might be hiding! Comes along from time to time to kill himself a white man, then disappears. Nobody can catch that one!” Talley said as he slammed the barn door shut behind him.
“An Apache!” someone in the group cried. “I’m not looking for no Apache. They can kill you without you ever seeing them. I’m getting back to the saloon!”
“Smith shouldn’t have been out here at this time of night anyway. Got what he deserved,” came another voice from the crowd. Soon all the men were headed back to the saloon, leaving Smith’s body to grow cold in the alley.
“Thanks, Roy,” Madigan said as they were again left by themselves, “but why the story about the Apache? It was self-defense and I could have handled the likes of them.”
Roy Talley took one last look through a crack in the door to make sure no one else was around. “If I hadn’t made up that fool story, then seems to me they wouldn’t be back at the saloon getting good and drunk. They would be right here trying to get someone else killed. And like I said, I don’t want to be the one to catch a stray bullet! Now how’s about you and me getting ourselves a bite of the best chow around these parts?”
“Sounds good to me,” Madigan agreed as he climbed up on the springboard for the ride out to Anny’s.
Anny’s boarding house was a two-story affair painted white with red shutters. A fence kept the livestock a short distance from the house while a swinging gate allowed the guests access to the walkway leading up to the large sun porch. Madigan immediately liked what he saw and looked forward to a hot meal and warm bed. And from the looks of this place, he was going to get both.
A sign out front declared: “No booze, women of the night, or drunkards allowed. All rules enforced with shotgun.”
“This Anny mean what she says on that sign?” Madigan asked Roy as they pulled up
to the hitching post.
“Every word of it,” Roy replied with a twinkle in his eye.
The inside of the house was as clean as any place Madigan had ever laid eyes on. The meal was plentiful, the room as clean as his mother used to keep, and the other people dining there were pleasant, except for the long-haired preacher that kept eyeing Madigan’s guns while commenting on the sins of the likes of men such as him. But Madigan never gave him much mind.
Men like that were usually cowards hiding behind the Good Book like a shield. When he finally tired of the man’s banter, he gave him a hard look that must have frozen the poor man’s tongue, for Madigan heard nothing more from him the remainder of the night. At least the man had the common sense to recognize a warning when he saw one.
Now this is the way to live, Madigan thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep. That night Madigan slept like a baby, feeling really safe for the first time in weeks.
The next morning he was up at the crack of dawn and ready to be on his way. Coming down the stairs from his room, Madigan was surprised to smell bacon already cooking. Normally he’d skip breakfast, but the smell of that bacon made him decide to start out on a full stomach.
He had just sat down in the dining room when Anny appeared with a plate of food that could have fed two men.
“Figured you to be an early riser,” she said as she set the plate in front of him.
“I’m not the only one it seems,” he said as he lifted a hot cup of coffee to his lips. Anny gave him a big smile that showed sparkling white teeth, a rarity for a woman Anny’s age.
“I always liked a man that got the day started with the sun and a full stomach. Why, if I was twenty years younger I’d. .”
“I’d be ten years old,” Madigan cut in.
“Right!” Anny sighed as she dropped her arms to her sides. “Always too young!” she said with a laugh that seemed to light up the room. “Always too young.”
True to Roy’s word, as Madigan walked outside, there on the flag pole was a white piece of cloth. At the pole’s base was a bait of corn. Madigan didn’t have to look to know that a short distance away was a saddled horse galloping towards him. Errand Boy wanted his breakfast.
Madigan let the horse eat, then mounted up and was soon at the back of Roy’s livery stable. The first rays of light threw long shadows on the ground and Madigan instinctively studied them for any signs of something out of place before dismounting. Roy was sitting on a bale of hay fiddling with an old harness. He looked up as Madigan approached.
“How’d you like your breakfast?” he asked.
“How’d you know I had some?” Madigan quipped.
Roy looked up at him and yawned. “Anny was fixin’ yours while I was finishing mine. What did you think, an old man like me just naturally gonna sleep all day? I been up so long I was just thinkin’ about taking myself a well-earned nap,” Roy said with another yawn. “By the way, seen something that might interest you.”
“Some of them boys up and moving already?” Madigan asked with interest, knowing that if they were up and about, he was sure to have trouble before he could be rid of this town.
“Not any of them boys. They all got them some lady friends so they’ll be sleeping late. That you can be sure of. But last night when I got back, I see where they were joined by five more men. Must have wired some of their friends in the next town to join them,” Roy said. “Anyway, getting back to what I was to say, about an hour ago I was just returning from Anny’s when I saw a couple of strange looking gents come riding up here to the back door of my stable.”
“In what way were they strange?”
“Well, first off, one of them was a might taller than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life. Maybe going close to six-feet-six I’d wager.” Roy shifted his weight on the bale of hay before going on with the rest of the story. “Now if he was in the middle of a passel of tall men, he wouldn’t have stood out so much. But the gent with him wasn’t much bigger than a boy,” Roy said seriously, while gesturing with his hand to show the height of the man.
“Sure it wasn’t a man and his son you saw, old-timer?”
Roy winced at the name ‘old-timer’. “No, the short gent was a grown man, I tell you. But one thing for sure, the guns he was a carrying weren’t anything but full-grown Colts.” Roy came to his feet and closed the gap between them to just a few feet. “Mr. Madigan, I got the funniest feelin’ that man-boy can use those shootin’ irons too! Just the way he handled himself, no show-off like a lot of the runts you see nowadays.”
“You think he’s a gun out for hire? A lot of them seem to be popping up on the trail heading for California.”
“Oh, he’s a gun hand all right, but I don’t think you could hire him with a wagon load of money. I’ve seen the likes of him once or twice in my day. No, he’s got something more important on his mind, and his kind always get it done, or die trying.”
Roy turned to walk away, stood, turned back around and scratched his chin, then said with a puzzled look on his face, “The short one took a good hard look around when he first rode up, then pulled a small book out of his saddlebag and wrote something in it! Damned if I’m not tellin’ the truth!”
What Roy told Madigan about this little man had him curious to say the least. A gunman that wrote things in a little book was as uncommon as an honest whore. But Madigan had no doubt that Roy said it just as it happened. Stranger things had taken place in the West. That he could attest to.
“What was the other one like?” he asked, his curiosity fully aroused by this time.
“Big. Big and kind’ve quiet. Had the look of an intelligent man, though. Wore his gun down low. As soon as he stepped down from his horse, he tied his holster down. I think he was prepared for any trouble that came his way.”
“Did they give you an idea of what they wanted?”
“More’n that. They told me what they was doing in town. Said they needed supplies and didn’t want to wait around for the general store to open. I told them Sherm Basketskill always opened early, so if they’d just go over, he was probably opened already.”
“Did they?” Madigan asked.
“Did they what?”
“Did they go get what they needed?”
Roy spit another stain of chew, this time narrowly missing Madigan’s boots. “Thought I was going to get you again, didn’t you?” he chuckled.
“Sure did,” Madigan said, still waiting for an answer to his question.
“Oh, yeah. You was askin’ about them two fellows. They did and they didn’t. They got their supplies, but they paid me to go get them for ‘em.” Reaching into his pocket Roy produced a shiny five-dollar gold piece. “Easiest money I ever came by in my life,” he bragged. “Got the usual grub and some more ammunition. They both shoot.44–40’s. Had me give their animals some grain and took a sack of corn with them to feel their horses on the trail. That’s about all. In less than an hour they were here and gone again.”
It didn’t take Madigan long to figure that these were the same men that he had saved back on the trail. When you have done as much scouting as he had, you read the trail like some men read a book, and Madigan had often seen the small boot tracks in the dirt where they had stopped to rest their horses.
He had also been aware of the much bigger prints that were deeper than most he’d seen. It wasn’t that the man had any bigger feet than other big men, it was how they pressed down in the soil when he walked, with even pressure on the sole, meaning that he was not bowlegged like many of the cowhands. Also, the toes always pointed straight ahead when he walked, much like an Indian.
Roy had mentioned one other thing. When the man spoke to his friend, he had a very slight accent. Roy took it to be French like he had heard once down in New Orleans. At any rate, these two were a curious mixture, of what Madigan did not know, but something told Madigan he would soon find out.
Chapter 10
Sam Madigan thought over the situation for a few minutes before maki
ng up his mind on what to do next.
“How’d you like to make another five-dollar gold piece?” he asked Roy.
“Who do I have to kill?” Roy asked with a grin, his lined face lighting up at the prospect of another five dollars.
“No one. Just get back to the store and pick up the things I have on this list.”
Roy gave Madigan a curious look as he handed him the paper. “Boy, this must be my day,” he said. “But you don’t have to pay me. I’d do it gladly for you.”
“Thanks anyway, Roy, but let me give you the money. You’ll be taking a chance with all the cutthroats in town. If they see you, they’re sure to ask questions. And that could mean trouble for you.”
“Don’t worry about me being seen,” Talley said. “I’ll go in the back door. Besides, those boys aren’t about to get out of the sack before noon.”
“By the way, does he stock much ammunition?” Madigan asked, remembering he was running low.
“Yep, in fact he might even have some for that big gun of yours.”
“Get me a couple of boxes of.44–40’s, and if he does have any of the big stuff, get me all he has of the.50–90’s. It’s getting hard to come by, so I always try to stock up when I can,” Madigan explained. He handed Roy a twenty-dollar gold piece. “That ought to just about do it,” he stated.
“I’m thinkin’ more than enough,” Talley said. Madigan watched as Roy pocketed the money and was soon out of sight as he turned the corner of a building at the far end of town.
Madigan took another look about him, then got busy getting the horses ready to leave as soon as Roy got back with his supplies.
From the balcony of the Pleasure Palace, a man stood smoking a long, foul-smelling cigar. The smoke rose up and drifted lazily around his face in the still morning air. From time to time the man would fan the smoke away from his eyes, then take another long pull on the stogie as he looked slowly down Main Street, first one way then the other.
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