Avenger

by William W. Johnstone

  “Sure was,” Cody replied.

  “Good Lord, I figured he was dead ten years ago.”

  Cody chuckled. “Not Salty. He’s been whittled down to bone and whang leather, but I figure he’ll still be around when you and I are in our graves, Frank.”

  “Could be. He drove the actual Deadwood run back in ’76, didn’t he?”

  “That’s right, as well as other routes all over the West. I couldn’t have a better man handling that stagecoach.”

  The compound was thronged with people, many of them members of Cody’s troupe of performers, but quite a few people who had attended the afternoon show were still on the grounds, wandering around and looking at the horses, the cowboys, and the Indians.

  One of the red men greeted Frank with an upraised hand. “How,” he said solemnly. He was quite elderly, with a very wrinkled face and iron-gray hair in braids. An eagle feather stuck up from the band that was tied around his head.

  “How yourself, you old son of a bitch,” Frank replied with a grin. He grabbed the hand of the buckskin-clad Indian and pumped it, then slapped the man on the back. “It’s good to see you, Red Thunder. I didn’t know you were part of Bill’s show.”

  “Well, I never was able to take his hair, so I thought I might as well take his money,” Red Thunder replied. His easy, educated manner of speaking showed that he’d had some of the white man’s schooling.

  Cody said, “It wasn’t through lack of trying that you never got my hair. I recollect a time when we were both young and you and some of your braves chased me a good twenty miles before I gave you the slip.”

  Red Thunder nodded. “Those Pony Express horses were fast. But we might not have killed you if we’d caught you. Would’ve stolen your horse, though.”

  “Well, that goes without saying.”

  Red Thunder laughed. “What are you doing here, Frank? Come to join up with the show? The colonel doesn’t pay all that well, but it’s good to remember the old times.”

  Frank didn’t point out that although civilization had made some inroads, much of the West was still almost as wild as it ever was. But Red Thunder’s people were all on reservations these days, other than the ones who were touring with Buffalo Bill. For him and those like him, the old days were indeed gone and would never come again.

  “No, I’m just paying a quick visit,” Frank said.

  “You ought to think about joining up. Lots of old friends here.”

  Cody said, “That’s actually not a bad idea, Frank. You’d be quite a draw. I can see it now.” He gestured as if there were a banner over Frank’s head. “Frank Morgan, the last of the old-time gunfighters! I’ve been thinking about just such a thing for a long time.”

  “Let me guess,” Frank said dryly. “You already asked Smoke Jensen, and he turned you down.”

  “Why, that thought never even occurred to me!”

  Frank smiled. “Sorry, Bill. Like I told you, I have business elsewhere.”

  “Well, keep it in mind for when that business is concluded satisfactorily, as I’m sure it will be.”

  Frank said good-bye to Red Thunder and promised the Pawnee war chief he would stop back by for a visit if he got the chance before leaving Chicago. As he and Cody walked away, Frank asked, “Exactly when is the next train heading east due through here? Tomorrow or the next day, I hope.”

  Cody laughed. “Frank, there are at least two eastbounds leaving Chicago each and every day. This isn’t some isolated little flag stop out in the middle of the frontier. Chicago is the greatest rail hub in the country, maybe even in the world. Whenever you’re ready to go, you shouldn’t have to wait very long for a train.”

  Frank was ready to go now, but he had promised Cody that he would give him a hand with the problem facing him. He was going to do his best to take care of it quickly, though.

  They walked on to another tent, where Cody paused outside the entrance flap and called, “Hannah, it’s the colonel. I have a friend of mine with me. Can we come in?”

  There was no response. Cody frowned, then said to Frank, “That’s odd. I’m sure she was coming right back here after the performance.”

  Before Frank could say anything, he heard a sudden scuffling sound from inside the tent, then a grunt, and finally a frightened scream that lasted only a second or two before it was abruptly cut off as if someone had clapped a hand over the mouth of the woman who had cried out.

  He didn’t wait to see what Cody would do. He jerked the canvas entrance flap aside and lunged into the tent with his hand on the butt of his Peacemaker.

  Instantly, his keen eyes caught the sight of two figures struggling next to a folding table. One of them was a young woman in tight buckskin trousers and a fancy white shirt. The other was a tall man in a Western-cut suit with a black Stetson crammed down on a shock of black hair.

  The man had his back to Frank at first, but must have heard him come in, because he swung around sharply, bringing the young woman with him. Frank let go of his gun since he couldn’t fire as long as the woman was between him and the intruder. After hearing Cody’s story, he had no doubt that the woman was Hannah Sterling and the man with the arrogant snarl on his face was Edgar Wade.

  At some time in the past, the man’s nose had been broken and had healed badly. He glared at Frank and said, “Get outta here, mister. I don’t know who you are, but this is none of your business.”

  Cody stepped into the tent and confirmed, “That’s him, Frank. That’s Wade.”

  “You get out too, Cody,” Wade snapped. “You got no right interferin’ between a man and the woman he’s gonna marry.”

  His hand was still clasped cruelly over Hannah’s lips, so she couldn’t deny his claim. But she managed to get her mouth open wide enough to bite down on Wade’s palm.

  He howled in pain and surprise as her teeth sank into his hand. His grip on her loosened, and she twisted away from him. Wade reached for her with a hand that was now dripping blood where she had bitten him.

  He didn’t get a chance to lay that bloody hand on her, because Frank stepped forward quickly and launched a punch that landed cleanly on that crooked, hawklike beak. Blood spurted and the impact knocked Wade back a step. Frank bored in, hooking a left into Wade’s midsection that knocked the breath out of the man and made him bend over. Wade was several inches taller than Frank, so that brought him into perfect position for the looping right-hand punch that came whistling around and exploded on his jaw like a rocket.

  Wade was driven sideways onto the folding table. It collapsed under his weight and he fell to the ground amidst the wreckage, where he lay moving feebly and moaning a little as crimson leaked from his rapidly swelling nose.

  Frank moved back and stood with his hand near the Colt, just in case Wade tried anything. From the looks of the man, though, all the fight had been knocked out of him.

  “There, there, Hannah, it’s all right,” Cody said as he put an arm around the shaken young woman. “That ruffian isn’t going to hurt you again.”

  Hannah swallowed hard and made a visible effort to pull herself together. She wasn’t crying, but her face was pale and drawn. She was a tall, athletic-looking young woman, almost as tall as Frank and Cody, and she had long, thick, dark red hair that was pulled into a ponytail behind her head.

  Frank glanced over at the two of them, saw how pretty Hannah was, and saw as well how Cody was hovering protectively over her. He thought again that the showman’s feelings for the lovely young trick rider probably weren’t strictly avuncular. But he also reminded himself that that was none of his business.

  Wade appeared to be getting his senses back, so Frank bent over, grabbed the lapels of his coat, and hauled the man to his feet. The muscles in Frank’s arms and shoulders and back bunched and rippled under his shirt as he lifted Wade with seemingly little effort.

  “Listen to me, Wade,” Frank said as he put his face close to the intruder’s bleeding visage. “You’re not welcome here, and you’re not going to bothe
r this young woman anymore. Set foot in this compound again and you’ll get worse than you got this time.”

  “You got no right . . . to keep me out,” Wade panted. “This is . . . a public show. I got a right to . . . buy a ticket.”

  “Not if I say you don’t,” Cody snapped. “This is my show, and I say who’s welcome and who’s not.”

  Frank gave Wade a shove that sent him staggering toward the entrance. “Get the hell out of here, and don’t come back.”

  Wade paused before leaving the tent to draw the back of his hand across his mouth and wipe away some of the blood that had run down there. “Who are you?” he grated at Frank. “One of Cody’s phony cowboys?”

  “There’s nothing phony about this man, you damned fool,” Cody said. “This is Frank Morgan.”

  Frank could tell from the look in Wade’s eyes that the man recognized his name. Wade didn’t show it in any other way, though. He just growled, “He’ll be a dead man if he ever tries to lay hands on me again,” then pushed out of the tent and stalked away unsteadily. Frank stepped to the entrance and watched him go, just to make sure he didn’t try to double back. People stepped aside from Wade and gave him plenty of room, probably because of that savage, blood-streaked countenance.

  “Are you really Frank Morgan?” Hannah asked from behind him.

  Frank let the tent flap drop and turned back to smile and nod at her. “Yes, I am,” he said, “and I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Sterling. I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

  “So do I.” She smiled sadly. “I wish you hadn’t been forced to cross Edgar. He’s a bad man to have as an enemy.”

  “I don’t reckon I’ll lose much sleep worrying about that, ma’am.”

  “And I wish I hadn’t brought so much trouble to the show, Colonel,” Hannah said to Cody.

  “Don’t you give it a second thought,” he told her. “Wade won’t dare bother you again, not after what happened just now.”

  Her smile became even more rueful. “That’s where you’re wrong, Colonel. When Edgar wants something, he won’t stop until he gets it. He’ll be more determined than ever after this, and sooner or later I’ll have to go with him whether I want to or not.”

  “Never! Why in the world would you say a thing like that, girl?”

  “Because I promised that I’m going to marry him,” Hannah said.

  Chapter 16

  Cody stared at her, dumbfounded by the statement she had just made. Frank was more than a mite surprised himself, but his reaction wasn’t as obvious as Cody’s was.

  “Marry him!” the colonel finally exploded. “Why in God’s name would you ever do a thing like that?”

  “Because it’s what I promised to do,” Hannah said calmly. “I gave my word, and I have to keep it.”

  “But . . . but . . . why?” Cody sputtered.

  “Why does anyone agree to get married? I guess I . . . I love him.”

  Frank was watching Hannah Sterling closely, and he didn’t believe for a second that she really loved Edgar Wade. She was sincere about intending to honor her promise to marry him, though.

  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Frank said quietly. “Colonel Cody and I will see to that.”

  “I know. It’s just . . . I’m sorry. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “I sure as blazes don’t,” Cody said.

  “I appreciate what you did, Mr. Morgan,” Hannah went on as if she hadn’t heard the showman, “but it doesn’t change anything. I still have to marry Edgar.”

  Something occurred to Cody that put a look of horror on his weathered face. “Hannah, you aren’t . . . you haven’t . . . you’re not in a . . . condition . . .”

  Her eyebrows went up in shock. “Oh, no, Colonel!” she exclaimed. “I never . . . I wouldn’t . . .”

  He patted her on the shoulder. “There, there, dear, of course not. I shouldn’t have even allowed such a thought to enter my head.” Cody frowned. “But if it’s not that, you must have some other reason.”

  “I told you.” Hannah’s voice grew firm. “I love him.”

  Cody looked like he wanted to argue some more, but Frank reached over and put a hand on the fringed sleeve of the colonel’s buckskin suit. “You heard the lady, Bill,” he said, putting a deliberately lighter tone in his voice. “You know there’s no point in arguing with a woman once she’s made up her mind.”

  Hannah smiled wanly. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I’m glad you understand.”

  “I still don’t want Wade anywhere around here,” Cody blustered. “If you have to meet him, it had better be elsewhere.”

  Hannah looked down at the ground and nodded. “All right, Colonel. I know the hotel where he’s staying. That’s where he was trying to get me to go just now. I . . . I guess I should have gone along with him, instead of causing so much trouble. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize,” Cody said gruffly. “I may not understand, but I won’t interfere.”

  The old varmint’s feelings were hurt, Frank told himself. That was a shame, but it couldn’t be helped, at least not right now.

  “We’ll go on and leave you alone,” Cody continued. “I’m sure you’ll want to rest up a mite before tonight’s show. You’ll be able to perform?”

  “Of course,” she replied without hesitation. “I won’t let my personal affairs interfere with the show.”

  Cody nodded. “Good.” He jerked his head toward the tent flap. “Let’s go, Frank.”

  Frank ticked a finger against the brim of his Stetson and said, “It was mighty nice to meet you, Miss Sterling.”

  Her smile was still weak as she nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Morgan.”

  The two men left the tent. Cody muttered under his breath as they walked across the crowded, noisy compound. “I don’t understand it, I just don’t understand it,” he finally said.

  “Not much to understand about it,” Frank drawled. “She lied to us.”

  Cody stopped short and turned to stare at his old friend. “What do you mean?”

  “That gal’s not in love with Wade. For some reason, though, she thinks she’s got no choice but to go along with what he wants and marry him. She just panicked when he tried to force her to leave just now. But that doesn’t change whatever hold it is that he had over her.”

  Cody smacked a fist into the palm of his other hand. “I knew it! I knew she couldn’t possibly be in love with that son of a bitch. What are we going to do about this, Frank?”

  “You’re going to keep on running your show the way you always do,” Frank said. “Leave the other to me. I’ll find out how Wade is forcing her to go along with him, and then I’ll take whatever steps are necessary to put a stop to it.”

  Cody nodded grimly. “Thanks, Frank. That girl means a lot to me. Like I said at first, maybe you should just kill the bastard.”

  “Might come to that,” Frank said.

  Now that he had decided to remain in Chicago for a few days, Frank figured he might as well take in the Columbian Exposition after all. Cody went with him, and they spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the huge exhibit halls that had been built to showcase the products and cultures of countries the world over.

  Frank was most impressed by the display of firepower put on by Fritz Krupp, the German munitions manufacturer. In a pavilion next to the lakeshore, Krupp had on display the largest artillery piece in the world, a cannon weighing a quarter of a million pounds and capable of firing a shell that weighed a full ton. Krupp’s Baby, Cody called it, and the old showman said, “Think what we could have done with one of those in some of the Indian fights we had, Frank.”

  “How do you even haul something like that?” Frank wondered. “It’s as big as a railroad car by itself.”

  “They brought it here by train, but I’m not quite sure how they managed it. It’s a big enough challenge just transporting my show from one place to the next.”

  Frank looked out over the waters of Lake Michigan. Th
e surface of the lake was dotted with white sails that shone brilliantly in the afternoon sun. Steam-powered vessels also chugged back and forth, many of them excursion boats that picked up passengers from a long pier jutting a couple of hundred yards out into the lake. A gaudily painted building that ran almost the entire length of the pier housed rides and games to entertain the fairgoers.

  Frank had seen the Pacific Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico, and to him Lake Michigan looked every bit as big as those bodies of water. It was hard for him to believe that it was actually a freshwater lake—and that there were four more like it stretched across the northern tier of the country.

  After leaving the fair, Frank and Cody went to a fine restaurant not far away where they ate supper. Cody insisted on paying.

  “As far as I’m concerned, your money’s no good while you’re in Chicago, Frank. I’ve done very well financially since setting up my Wild West show, and I was successful before that with my stage productions.”

  “Yeah, I remember Bill Hickok telling me about trying to be an actor in one of your plays. He didn’t care much for it, as I recall.” Frank shook his head. “Lord, it’s hard to believe Wild Bill’s been gone almost twenty years now.”

  “Yes, he was a good man. Never should have gone to Deadwood, though. I was scouting for the army at the time and tried to talk him into coming along with me. But he was set on prospecting for gold and making a fortune. Funny thing is, I’ve heard that once he got there, he gave up on the idea of prospecting and spent most of his time drinking and gambling in the saloons.”

  They shared a moment of silence in memory of their old friend Hickok, then resumed their reminiscing over a meal of what Cody proclaimed to be the finest steaks in Chicago.

  When they had finished eating, the colonel said, “I’d better get back now so that I can start preparing for this evening’s performance. You’re coming to see the show, aren’t you, Frank?”

  “I sure am. I’m curious to see just what sort of hoopla you put on, Bill.”

  He had another reason for attending the performance too, but he didn’t say anything about that to Cody. Better to wait and see how the hand played out, he thought.