Dan could shoot the man as he came by.
He’d have to kill the others – the wife too? The girls? Not likely. The personal rifle guards and Oliver Ashby would open-up on him. And what if his hand froze? Mandy wasn’t there. It was enough he knew where the ranch was. He could come back later. There were other things he had to learn. Not now. He wouldn’t shoot the man now. But he wanted to see him.
The wait wasn’t long.
The birds had settled somewhat. Dan heard the creak of a four-place buggy roll out of the yard. Two rifle-armed riders followed back along each side, their Winchesters aimed at the clouds. Zeke Deller drove the buggy with Sarah beside him. The girls sat in back. Zeke Deller, the man once known as Monte Steep, who shot down a young lad for his horse and what little gold he had in his pocket, and who slaughtered a family for a tin box and sport with a woman; who dry-gulched Dan Quint down in Mexico, killing his favorite horse.
Other horses coming along made Mesa perk up. Dan patted her neck. They were fifty yards away from the road, mostly hidden. The buggy came into view. The two girls looked about ten or slightly older. They sat in back, bundled thick with a buffalo hide across their laps, cute faces out of hoods showing red with chill. In front, Sarah sat bundled with mittens wrapped in her own buffalo hide.
Working the reins sat Zeke Deller, wearing a buffalo coat, a black, Plains Stetson, gray glasses hiding his eyes. He lightly slapped the reins on the backs of the two black stallions and quickly rolled on by.
Dan felt his hands shiver. A tingle crossed his forehead. It was him – Dan knew it was him.
In Yuma, Dan watched Deller cut his wife loose with the girls on the big general store, as an ore wagon rattled into town from the mine, with two guards riding its flank. Zeke Deller then crossed the road to an office door. He stood there watching the wagon. The buffalo coat draped wide on him. His face had puffed over the years yet he remained clean-shaven. He tracked with his gray glasses as the ore wagon passed. The two guards nodded a greeting. Deller looked up and down the street. The gray-lensed glasses passed over Dan sitting Mesa in front of the saloon. There was no pause or recognition. Deller then took off his glasses and wiped them clean with a handkerchief. He again turned to the wagon, his one gray and one brown eye briefly on display. He put the glasses back on and went into the office.
Dan moved Mesa off to follow the ore wagon. The two personal guards lounged outside the office door. They gave him a glance as he rode by. At the railroad station, he watched blacks unload ore rocks onto a rail car. It would be sent to a trammel or rock crusher somewhere in California to separate rock from silver. That operation might be sorted out later.
Dan needed a drink. All those years, on the trail crisscrossing the country in search of a man – the towns, the saloons, the hotels, the camps, the women – and he was here, the search had finally ended. Monte Steep was here. Dan only had to find the whore, Jenny Troup, then he could wire Mandy Lee to come on out. They had their man.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The lawyer rode the roan – Dan was on Mesa. They trotted the same road Dan had been on two mornings before on his last visit to the ranch. This time they went right into the yard and tied their mounts to the hitch rail. Dan noticed three riders on patrol around the ranch house, Winchesters pointed to the sky. The men looked more gunslingers than drovers. Cattle were everywhere outside the yard – Texas longhorns squeezed out by other short-horn breeds, bawling and snorting to remind Dan of a trail drive. He reckoned there were still plenty of longhorns over in Texas.
Inside the foyer, a Navajo woman about fifty led the way down a hall with stairs on the left. A pair of bouncy, pre-teen girls came bounding down the steps wearing party dresses and light blue ribbons in their blonde hair.
A fine-looking woman in green followed them. ‘Slow down, girls, you’ll trip.’ She looked at Dan and the lawyer with a weak smile. ‘Birthday party,’ she said.
Dan and Oliver Ashby removed their hats. Sarah was a woman in her early thirties with an innocent face that looked ten years younger, not only lovely but vulnerable. Her eyes were deep, dark-blue, the color duplicated in the girls. A delicate hand extended when she reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘Welcome to our home. I’m Sarah Deller. Zack is expecting you in the den.’
Dan took the hand as gently as he could. ‘J.J. Jordan,’ he said.
The girls were out the front door, chased by the Navajo woman. Sarah Deller followed.
From another room a booming voice said, ‘That you, Ashby? The rider musta told you. I said not to bring him. Get in here.’
Dan felt a grip on his heart. Fingers of his right hand twitched, the tips touched lightly on the hammer thong of the Peacemaker. He felt a flutter across his chest – he briefly wondered if it would be here and now. He swallowed hard.
The den was finished in dark wood with books along three walls, the fourth mostly window looking toward the silver mine hills. The floor polished, spread with a purple, Asian rug, four polished wood arm chairs and a desk built of some exotic timber. Dan resisted the urge to unhook the gun hammer thong. His forehead tingled with realization. The man stood before him behind the desk. Glasses with gray lenses, portly, thinning hair, chubby hands – robber and killer – now wealthy, solid citizen married to a beautiful mother of two pretty girls. He had swindled a silver mine from them. No question now. Monte Steep, a rebel deserter that shot Jordan Quint dead along a Texas trail leading to Waco – Monte Steep, now calling himself Zack Deller. And Dan saw the final nail in the coffin when he looked at the desk top.
There it was.
On the desk sat a small tin box with a copper top. A princess crown had been etched in.
Foolishly, Dan started planning logistics. Gun down Steep in the den. He’d have to shoot the lawyer too. Those gunslingers outside would hear the shots and come running. He might get two before he caught bullets. No way of knowing how many there were. He’d never make the hall, never get to Mesa.
Besides, Mandy Lee had to be there, she had to be part of it.
Oliver Ashby said, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Deller, but the man says he has two million dollars.’
Deller glared at Dan. ‘You’re wasting your time, Jordan. The Sarah D mine ain’t for sale now, and it ain’t never going to be for sale.’ He frowned. ‘Are you all right? What’s so interesting about my desk?’
‘Exotic wood,’ Dan said.
‘It was here when I got the place. Don’t know nothing about it. You made a wasted trip. Can I at least offer you a glass of bourbon?’
‘Not today,’ Dan said. ‘You got trouble coming.’
Ashby and Deller stared at him. Then Ashby nodded. ‘He’s talking Apache.’
Deller shook his head. ‘Them stragglers are always gawking at the town. Ain’t nothing to it. What did you see? Five? Six?’
Dan said, ‘Eight. Just thought it might be something.’
Zack Deller – Monte Steep stood stiff with a wrinkled, fat face. ‘Who the hell are you? We don’t even know you. Ashby, take this jasper back to town. Look, Jordan, I’m sorry you came out here for nothing. I appreciate the warning about the Apache. But if you got a couple million or so to splurge, you get yourself another mine. The Sarah D ain’t for sale.’
A light knock came on the door. Sarah opened it and took one step inside. ‘The buggy is out front. We’re ready to leave.’
‘You ain’t going no place. I don’t care if she is Navajo not Apache. Those girls ain’t going to her brat’s party. There may be trouble. I don’t like it.’
Sarah’s pretty face turned pink. She stood stiff. She said, ‘I have no interest at all in what you do or don’t like.’ She turned and slammed the door as she left.
Oliver Ashby shifted, embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry Mr Deller. We shouldn’t have heard that.’
Deller shrugged. ‘She found out. I don’t know how or from where. I think Jenny saw her in Yuma and told her. The pigeon is outta the cage now. You and me got to talk about Jenny.’
Dan said, ‘I can find my own way back.’
Deller nodded. ‘Yes, why don’t you? Get together with Ollie here later to buy another silver claim. Like I said, my claim just ain’t for sale.’
Less than a mile from the ranch, Dan saw a four-place buggy by the side of the road. Bundled against the cold, the two girls cried as they hugged their mama, hunched with her face in her hands, also crying. Dan rode to the buggy and stepped down.
‘Trouble, ma’am?’
The girls looked at him first, their deep-blue eyes red-rimmed but clear and innocent. ‘It’s the man,’ one of them said. ‘The man from the house.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Sarah Deller said. ‘I’m making a spectacle of myself.’
Dan stood by her seat. ‘Anything I can do?’
One of the girls sniffled. ‘There ain’t no party. We’re running away.’
‘Isn’t, Patricia, not ain’t,’ Sarah said.
‘There isn’t no party,’ Patricia said.
Dan peered at the other girl. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Judith. Mama, stop crying. We said we’re going to do it, we’re going to do it.’
Sarah looked up. ‘Mr Jordan, please go on your way. We don’t want to trouble you.’
‘I’m already troubled. You can’t sit out here in the cold with these girls. I can take you back to the ranch.’
‘We ain’t never – aren’t ever going back there,’ Patricia said. She was the older of the two.
‘What are their ages?’ Dan asked.
‘Nine and eleven.’
‘I’m the oldest,’ Patricia said. ‘That’s why he picked on me.’
Dan stared at the girl, not liking the picture in his mind. He studied the three, twisted, red faces in tears looking back at him. He turned to Sarah. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘Yuma,’ she said. ‘We have a case with a clothes change at the hotel. And a train ticket to Dodge City by way of Sacramento. My daddy is going to meet us.’ She looked behind her. ‘We can’t go that way. One of the men at the ranch will see the buggy.’ She turned to the hitched chestnut mare. ‘If we go through Darion, the marshal or somebody will come riding to tell him.’
Dan said, ‘There’s a trail I used when I first come out here looking for the town. Might be a little rough for the buggy, but if you’re willing, I’ll take you on in.’
She grabbed his arm. ‘Yes. Please, Mr Jordan.’ She hesitated. ‘What was your business with my husband?’
‘Shove on over. It ain’t important, never was.’ Dan tied Mesa to the back of the buggy and climbed next to her. He took the reins from her. He lightly slapped them on the back of the chestnut. ‘Move it along there.’
As the buggy rolled out, Dan turned to the girls. ‘Patricia, Judith, cover your ears tight. You ain’t supposed to hear what I’m about to tell your mama.’
The girls squinted while they pressed palms against their ears.
Sarah frowned. ‘What is it, Mr Jordan?’
Dan said, ‘My name ain’t Jordan, that was my brother who your husband killed more’n fifteen years ago, back when his name was Monte Steep. He robbed banks and people and killed plenty in his time. He made some crooked deal to get that silver mine and he probably had your sister killed. I come looking for him. My name is Dan Quint and I’m here to shoot the bastard dead.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
In Yuma, the setting sun aimed for desert sand across the Colorado where the ferry floated next to the railroad bridge. The girls were on the train, each dressed in a plain, calico dress with bright yellow jackets, still with a ribbon in their blonde locks. Sarah Deller, in a gray suit for travel, stood in front of Dan on the station platform.
She held his arm. ‘Thank you isn’t enough, Dan. I don’t know if I’d had the courage to do this on my own. The girls and I talked about it. He is not a kind man. With the girls growing . . . we couldn’t stay there. His comments were leading to more. I have to get them away before . . . before. . . .’
‘Yes’m. What if he comes after you? I mean, before I get a chance to kill him.’
‘My daddy will have twenty-five outriders waiting. Daddy knows why I’m coming home. If Monte Steep enters Dodge City or the ranch, there won’t be anything left for you to kill.’ She stood looking at his face. ‘Ida and I thought after the war we might make enough selling cattle to work the claim. Everybody northeast wanted cattle. But we couldn’t afford to drive them north. We had to sell. I thought Ida and I sold the claim to Jeremiah Dickers and his partner.’
‘Will Lee,’ Dan said.
‘Yes. I was never sure how Zack got involved – I mean, Monte Steep.’
‘You gave Jeremiah Dickers a receipt for payment, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, the original for him, a duplicate for me. I sent it home to Dodge City for Daddy to keep.’
‘Will you mail it to me, care of General Delivery here in Yuma?’
‘Of course, as soon as I get there. The receipt was made out to partners, Jeremiah Dickers and William Lee.’
Dan said, ‘They were already partners. They made up the paperwork before they left Missouri. Will was just bringing out his share of the money, eight thousand dollars.’
‘That’s half the amount Mr Dickers paid me and Ida.’
‘They were going to use Will’s money to operate the mine.’ Dan watched the girls fuss against the train window. ‘Steep had something to do with your sister’s accident.’
‘I wouldn’t believe it but I thought so, especially after Jenny—’
Dan felt his face flush. He blinked at her. ‘You saw Jenny Troup?’
‘The last time I was in town. She came to me. She told me about the claim swindle, and the affair she had with Zack – Steep. So, I can add infidelity to his crimes. I might have even cared once.’
‘You know where she lives?’
‘No. Dan, she looks awful. She told me she’s had to work as a prostitute. She’s had a rough time. I gave her some money but she needs help. Will you—’
‘Yes’m. I’ll look her up before I go after Steep.’
‘After I’m gone, he’ll suspect her. He may send the marshal, or the gunfighter deputy, Orville Riker after her.’
‘Yes’m,’ Dan said.
Sarah stood back and studied Dan’s eyes. There was something in her look. When he started to feel uncomfortable, she said, ‘I’ve only known two real men in my life, my Daddy and my Ben. They blew my Ben to pieces in that awful, stupid war. My Daddy is getting on in years. I’m glad to know there are others – at least one other.’ She hugged him then turned away and stepped up to the train car. ‘I’ll send you that duplicate receipt.’
Dan waited until the train was rolling across the Colorado toward California. At the coast, they would head north to Sacramento then east to Dodge City. He didn’t envy the ladies that train ride, but they’d be out of the reach of Monte Steep.
Dan headed for the saloon whorehouses of Yuma.
The farce was done for. No more fancy dude duds and borrowed names. Dan Quint took back his own name and dressed in his western clothes, happy to be wearing his old Boss of the Plains Stetson again.
In the saloon, Dan felt the burn of whiskey down his throat. The bar was full of miners since it was a Saturday night, and time for some hell-raising.
The miner next to him said, ‘Heard you’re askin’ around town about Jenny.’
‘I am. You know where she is?’
‘You ain’t the only one looking.’
Dan nodded to the bartender, and held up two fingers. He turned back to the man. ‘You work a silver claim?’
‘Not the big one, one of the smaller ones down the line. Them lookin’ is the lawyer and the gunslinger.’
‘Orville Riker?’
‘That’s the jasper. So fast he dropped three in the Darion Saloon before they cleared leather. Shot all three dead. I ain’t never seen nobody so fast.’
Dan finished his whiskey. ‘He figure to draw down o
n Jenny Troup?’
‘Nope, just kill her. Word is she’s blabbing her mouth about things she shouldn’t, works a tent out by the mines.’
‘Word from who?’
The miner shrugged. ‘Just word around.’
‘Is Riker a sure-enough deputy marshal or does he work for the lawyer?’
‘Nope. They both work for the marshal, Silver Hawthorne. Orville Riker is one of Hawthorne’s deputies.’ He stood tall. ‘Hey, where you going?’
‘To stop him,’ Dan said.
Before Dan rode on out to the mines, he stopped at the telegraph office. He sent one wire back east to North Carolina.
Mandy
Come to Yuma. Stop. Found him. Stop.
Dan
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dan Quint rode Mesa along the ore wagon road out to the mines. In the hotel room, he had practised. Twenty-eight draws in front of the mirror last night, and another fifty in the morning. The hand didn’t freeze once. He was ready to meet Monte Steep.
He reached the mines early afternoon. Dan figured to sweep the independent ladies first, with their small tents farthest away. Larger tents held as many as four cots each, one whore per cot.
The whack of pick against rock clicked out of the mines, the Sarah D being the biggest with the most noise. The day was still too young for booze and bitches – pick axes still chipped against rock. Rock-dust haze hovered, the combined smells of male sweat and cheap perfume lingering in the air. That dust clouded the sky like a light seaside fog, coming from dark mine entrances to be whipped away high above the caverns with the wind.
From what Dan could learn, Jenny Troup had been in the business five years, a long life for a soiled dove. Always on the move, she drifted from tent to tent though she now had her own independent canvas room. She had to know others were looking for her, ordered by a man from her past – past boss, past lover. Dan left Mesa outside the tent area, tied to a broken wagon wheel. He moved on foot between small tents.
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