The Six Gun Solution tw-12

by Simon Hawke

  “No, wait… O’Fallon said. “All he knows is that Bailey came straight here. He still doesn’t know who he came to see. If he’s out there watching and he sees increased security, that will only give away the operation. Let’s keep him guessing. At this point, all he knows about for sure is Bailey.”

  “You said you’d help me, O’Fallon.” Bailey said. “You promised!”

  “You’ve put me in an awkward situation, Zeke.”

  “All right, at least give me back my warp disc!” Bailey pleaded. “I can’t take the chance of staying around. He knows about me now I’ve got to get out of here!”

  “Yes.” said O’Fallon. “I can’t afford allowing you to be interrogated. You simply know too much.”

  Bailey paled “Oh, Jesus Christ… you… you’re not going to kill me?”

  “You haven’t given me a great deal of choice. Zeke,” O’Fallon replied.

  Bailey swallowed hard. “O’Fallon, please… you don’t have to do this. You don’t know for sure that I was followed. But if I was, and he doesn’t see me leaving here, he’ll know. He’ll know for sure!”

  “Yes, I’m afraid you have a point.” O’Fallon said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “So what do you suggest I do, Zeke?”

  “Give me back my warp disc,” Bailey said. “I’ve got Underground contacts in other time periods who can help me. I’ll never say anything about you or your operation. I swear to God. If I did, they’d cut me off, you know that. They wouldn’t want to risk exposure.”

  “Yes, that’s true enough.” O’Fallon said.

  “I’ll leave here and start driving back toward town.” said Bailey. “There’s still plenty of daylight, I’ll see the Kid coming if he’s out there. If he gets anywhere near me, I’ll just clock out. He’ll never know where I went. Otherwise, I’ll wait till I get back to my place and clock out from there.”

  O’Fallon thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know.” he said. “It’s risky.”

  “I won’t let him take me, I swear to God I won’t.”

  For a long moment, O’Fallon didn’t speak.

  “O’Fallon… “ Bailey said, his voice barely above a whisper. “ Please…”

  “I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Zeke,” said O’Fallon. “I’11 send Paul with you. I’ll give him the warp disc I took from you. Perhaps we can turn this situation to our advantage.”

  “I’ll do anything you say,” said Bailey.

  “Go back to your place, Zeke.” O’Fallon said. “Paul will ride along. I don’t think the Kid will try anything if you’re not alone. He won’t be certain of the situation. If he’s out there somewhere, and I’m betting that he is, he’ll follow you to your place, hoping to catch you alone. Paul will escort you that far, then he’ll continue on to town. In the meantime, we’ll clock some of the boys ahead to your place and see if we can’t arrange a nice reception for the Montana Kid, whoever the hell he is. If we’re lucky, we might even take him alive.”

  “What about me?” asked Bailey.

  “After you’ve done your part, you’ll be free to go.” O’Fallon said. “Frankly. I couldn’t care less what happens to you.”

  Bailey looked enormously relieved, do whatever you say, O’Fallon.”

  O’Fallon nodded. “All right,” he said. “Paul, you go with Zeke. Steve, Randy, Allan, you’ll pick up your ordnance and clock over to Bailey’s place. At least now we know for sure the Kid is from the future. Let’s see if we can find out which future.”

  As the men started to leave, O’Fallon said, “Steve…”

  The man named Steve hesitated, waiting till the others had left.

  “When Bailey gets back to his place,” said O’Fallon softly. “kill him.”

  Scott watched from the ridge as Bailey’s rig drove out through the gateposts of the ranch. He saw that Bailey was not alone. There was another man with him in the rig, his saddled horse tied to the back and following along. They took the road heading back toward town.

  This wasn’t what he’d hoped. He had hoped to catch Bailey coming out alone. The fact that he was not alone alerted him. Bailey had gone straight from Tombstone to the Clanton ranch. Interesting, thought Scott. Very, very interesting. It looked as if someone among the rustlers was not who he appeared to be. Maybe them were several of them. Only who? The Clantons themselves? The McLaurys? Ringo’? Brocius? One or more of their hired hands’? It could be any of them. He had no way of knowing. Not unless he could get Bailey alone to question him.

  He had read Bailey exactly right. He had gone straight to whomever he was working with. Only who were they? The Special Operations Group? The Underground?

  The Network’? The smart thing to do, he thought, would be to wait until Priest.

  Cross and Delaney showed up. Only he wasn’t sure when they would be clocking in.

  Perhaps they were already in Tombstone. But meanwhile, he was alone out here and he hated to take a chance on Bailey running, perhaps clocking out to some other time period. He had blown his cover purposely, setting himself out as bait, but if he could question Bailey, he could improve his chances of survival by learning where the attack might come from. The man with Bailey could be one of them. Or he might simply be one of the cowboys. There was no way of knowing. And when you don’t have enough information. Scott told himself, the best thing to do is to do nothing.

  He was sorely tempted to follow them, but he realized that could be exactly what they were expecting him to do. They could be trying to draw him into a trap. Whoever they were, he was at a disadvantage. They might try to catch him on the road or lead him into an ambush. It was possible they were unaware that he had followed Zeke, if that was really his name, but he was not about to take that chance. Better to gamble on the opposition being smart, not stupid. He had already discovered two valuable pieces of information-that Zeke Bailey was not what he appeared to be, and that whoever he was working with was involved somehow with the Clanton ranch.

  The Network, he thought. It had to be. The whole setup had all the earmarks of a Network operation. He knew the Clantons were involved in rustling. They were part of a large outlaw faction that included the McLaury brothers, Johnny Ringo, and Curly Bill Brocius. Most of them were ranchers, people who had been here before the silver boom, and with the proximity of the Mexican border, rustling had grown commonplace. Men from both sides of the border frequently conducted rustling raids for horses and cattle. The rustled stock could then be cheaply sold to other ranchers in the area, to augment their herds and to be consumed in Tombstone. Consequently, rustlers frequently found a warm welcome at most of the ranches in the area and they often went out of their way to ingratiate themselves with local ranchers, who were, after all, their market. Many people in Tombstone and its environs did not really consider the rustlers outlaws. But that was slowly changing.

  As Tombstone grew, it was inevitable that certain of its citizens would come to view the rustlers as a disruptive element. The community was polarized. There were those to whom the rustlers were their friends, hard-working cowboys just trying to make a living. And there were others to whom they represented a potential threat. Especially as it was just one short step from stealing stock to robbing stages, with their cargo of silver bullion.

  It was a perfect setup for the Network. Not one of their large-scale operations, obviously, but nevertheless one that afforded the opportunity for easy profit with a minimum of risk. How hard would it have been for them to infiltrate the rustlers and nudge them toward robbing stages? Or perhaps keep them out of it entirely and simply use their rustling operations as a cover for robberies of silver bullion? Either way, it would be relatively simple. A small operation, with no overhead to speak of, that would produce untraceable assets that could readily be liquidated. The Special Operations Group would not be interested in anything like that.

  If there was a confluence point somewhere in this temporal sector, then it would be all the more reason for the S.O.G. to maintain a very low profile. They
would set up a base of operations, carefully concealed, from which they could patrol the confluence point and stage hit-and-run operations in other temporal sectors. It would make sense that they would want to keep their involvement with the locals at a minimum. On the other hand, if it was the Network, then it would make sense for them to station someone like Zeke Bailey in town, keeping an eye on all new arrivals. That would explain the seemingly careless act of having a Fairburn-Sykes commando knife on display in the store. Most people in this time period would react to it the way George Spangenberg had. A knife that simply wasn’t very useful for anything except maybe “sticking” people. Anyone with any sense would choose a skinner or a Bowie. To people in this time sector, a knife like that would simply not appeal. But if anyone showed a marked curiosity about it. it could signal a warning.

  What bothered him was Bailey. A Network man, it seemed to him, would have been too professional to have made that slip about the Bisleys. Bailey was a bundle of nerves. He simply did not fit the profile of a Network agent. But then, maybe he wasn’t. At least, not part of the inner group. The Network was not above recruiting outsiders, often using criminals from the 27th century in their varied operations. They had contacts in the Temporal Underground, as well. Bailey could be a deserter from the future who was working for them. And, as such, he would be easily expendable.

  The question was, what would they do now that they knew he’d broken Bailey’s cover and revealed his own? Would they move against him or would they rush to shut down their operation in this sector and clear out? Much as he wanted to nail them. Scott had to recognize that the preservation of temporal continuity came first. If he alarmed the Network into shutting down and moving out, it would, in effect, have accomplished the primary goal of his mission. It would eliminate a potentially disruptive influence in this temporal sector. Taking the Network people into custody would be highly desirable, of course, but his first priority had to be safeguarding temporal continuity.

  What would Forrester want him to do? The Old Man would not want him to take any unnecessary risks. He’d want him to wait until the others had arrived and convey what he had learned to Colonel Priest, who would take command of the mission. Much as he wanted to make a try for Bailey. Scott knew that the smart thing to do, for now, would be to wait.

  “Play it safe. Neilson.” he said to himself, out loud. “Keep a rein on it and play it safe.”

  He released the horse he’d rented and slapped it hard on the rump, sending it running down toward the road. It would make its way back to the corral in town. He’d clock back, to avoid any risk of being ambushed on the road, and simply say the horse had shied at a snake or something and had thrown him just outside of town. Then he’d wait and see who came for him. Would it be Wyatt Earp, unpersuaded by Doc Holliday and intent on seeing him on the next stage out of town? Would it be Demming, intent on avenging his brother’s death? Or would it be the Network?

  He grimaced, wryly. This was playing it safe?

  5

  Lucas and Andre got off the stage and waited for the driver to unload their bags. It hadn’t been a very long ride from Benson, perhaps twenty-five or thirty miles, but it hadn’t been very comfortable, either. Every jolt had been communicated to the passengers and the dust had seeped in everywhere. Both Lucas and Andre were well accustomed to discomfort, and there had been times in their careers when they had traveled in far less comfort. Lucas had never found anything to beat the sheer misery and exhaustion of forced marches with the Roman Legions and Andre had ridden for days on horseback, wearing full medieval armor. Nevertheless, they were grateful when the stage finally arrived in Tombstone.

  Though they could easily have clocked into Benson, they had taken the Southern Pacific all the way from Lordsburg, the better to establish their cover. Lucas was posing as a writer from New York City, working on a series of articles for newspapers and magazines on the “Wild West.” Andre was his wife, secretary, and personal assistant. Finn Delaney would arrive separately, on horseback, with the cover of a drifter, a cowboy looking for work in the boomtown or on one of the ranches in the area. Between them, they hoped to be able to cover all contingencies.

  Their first step was to check into the Grand Hotel, where Lucas made sure the desk clerk knew why he was in town. A promise to put the desk clerk’s name in the article he was writing immediately turned the man into a font of information enhevilbaS5about “the town that had a man for breakfast every morning.” The next step was to stop in at the hotel bar, where Lucas interviewed the bartender and some of the patrons, who regaled him with stories about the Earps, Bat Masterson. Doc Holliday, and the young gunslinger who had recently arrived in town, the Montana Kid.

  “You missed Bat Masterson,” the barman told him. “He had to leave town and go to Dodge to help out his brother. Jim, with some trouble he was havin’ back there. But you’ll still find plenty to write about right here in Tombstone. mister. There’s trouble brewin’ you mark my word.”

  “What sort of trouble?’ Lucas asked him.

  “There’s bad blood between the Earps and some of the cowboys.” said the barman, like the Clantons and the McLaurys. And a lot of folks in town are startin’ to choose up sides Even the newspapers are getting’ in on it.”

  “What’s it all about?” asked Lucas, while Andre sat beside him, taking notes, he bought another drink and invited the barman to have one for himself.

  “Well, near as I can tell, the bad blood between the Earps and the McLaurys got started back around July of last year,” said the barman, a loquacious sort who clearly liked to gossip. He needed little prompting. “See, some soldiers came to town one day to see the Earps Seems some mules got stolen from out at Camp Rucker and they wanted some help from the local law to track the rustlers down. Well, sir, the trail took ’em out to the McLaury ranch. They found some mules, all right, but they couldn’t prove that they were Army mules. Frank McLaury said that they were his and the Earps thought that the brands were changed. Anyways, they couldn’t prove the mules were stolen and the Army didn’t get ’em back, but Frank McLaury didn’t like bein’ called a thief and he went around tellin’ anyone who’d listen how the Earps were spreadin’ lies about him.”

  “Did Frank McLaury steal the mules?” asked Lucas.

  “I’m not sayin’ he did and I’m not sayin’ he didn’t.” said the barman, but it wouldn’t have been the first time stock was rustled around here There’s been a lot of that sort of thing goin’ on. And lately, there’s been some stage robberies, as well. We got a lot of silver bullion goin’ out and not all of it gets to where it’s goin’. See, lot of small ranchers around here have done a bit of rustlin’ from time to time. There’s nothin’ unusual about it. Folks take a ride across the border and come back with some stock. Mexicans do the same damn thing. Been goin’ on for years. Only now there’s talk that some of the ranchers around here have taken to robbin’ stages as well as rustlin’ stock and some of that talk is comin’ from the Earps and others. And that ain’t the half of it.”

  “What’s the rest?” asked Lucas, paying for another couple of drinks.

  “Well, the Mclaurys are real tight with the Clantons.” said the barman. “And they’re all friends of Sheriff Johnny Behan. Now Johnny, he’s not a bad sort, you understand, but he doesn’t go out of his way to look for trouble, if you get my drift. Now a while back, this girl showed up in town, name of Josie Marcus. She was an actress came to town with a show called Pinafore on Wheels. Seems she knew Johnny from before. Anyway, the two of them set up house together and Johnny was introducin’ her to everybody as his fiancee. Only it seems that Josie didn’t care too much for the sort of company that Johnny kept. Boys like the Clantons, the McLaurys, Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo. They’d have these all-night poker games out at Johnny’s place and I guess Josie didn’t like it. Anyway, it wasn’t long before they had a fallin’ out and Josie took up with Wyatt Earp.”

  “So you’re saying there’s a love triangle invo
lved?” asked Andre.

  “Well, now, I’m not tellin’ you any secrets,” said the barman. “The whole town knows all about it. Part of it’s a question of property, too. In more ways than one. See. Johnny and Josie built their house on money Josie’s daddy sent her, only Johnny owns the lot it stands on. One time, when Wyatt was away, Johnny came to try and dispossess her. Only Wyatt had asked Morgan to look in on her from time to time and Morg was there. They had some words and Morg knocked Johnny clear off the front porch_ Johnny didn’t bother Josie anymore after that, but you can see why he’s never been too fond of the Earps. And it’s like their trouble with property was just like the trouble many folks had here in town.”

  “How’s that?” asked Lucas, plunking down for two more drinks.

  “Well,” said the barman, pouring. “Arizona’s still a territory, you understand, and we ain’t never had much in the way of law around here. Back when the boom got started, there was a good deal of lot jumpin’ goin’ on and it got so it wasn’t very clear who owned what, you understand. Well, the mayor at that time. Alder Randall, went and transferred all the titles to the company of Clark and Gray. Seems the law let him do that, for the purpose of getting all the paperwork cleared up or somethin’. Only what Clark and Gray did was turn around and demand payment for all the lots in town and those who wouldn’t pay were threatened with eviction. Some of the boys they used to do the dirty work were the same cowboys who were doin’ a lot of the rustlin’ in these parts. It turned into one big mess, let me tell you, and there’s still lawsuits pending over the whole thing. It pretty near split the town in half. There was Clark and Gray and their friends in the County Ring, who own the Nugget and hold some of the offices in town, and there was John Clum, who’s now the mayor and runs the Epitaph and a bunch of local businessmen around here who sided up with him.

  “Now the Earps own some property in Tombstone,” he continued, “and they got involved in the whole thing, as well. When they first came here, they were goin’ to open up a stage line, only we already had two lines so the Earps got into other business. They own some mining claims around here and got interest in one of the saloons, plus a few more things. Virgil got himself a badge and Wyatt wrangled himself an appointment as deputy U.S. Marshal. Between them, they got the power to make Morgan deputy if need be and Wyatt’s always got Doc Holliday and one or two others to back him up. Now on the other side, you got the County Ring, and Johnny