Trammel slowly lowered the Peacemaker, then slid it back into the holster. He heard Abernathy and his deputies lower their rifles.
“Glad you saw clear to reason,” Abernathy said. “Things bein’ as they are, it’d be best if you came over to the office to make your formal statement.”
Trammel slowly turned and faced them. Deputy Johnny swallowed hard. The other deputy backed up a step. Only Abernathy held his ground.
“You arresting me?”
“If I was, you’d be in irons by now. But I’ll need your statement for the report, and I’d like to get it from you while it’s fresh.”
Hagen walked the distance between him and the sheriff and handed Trammel the Winchester. “Go with them, Buck. I’ll be along in a minute.”
Trammel was still mad at him for not backing him in the gunfight. “And just what the hell will you be doing?”
“Talking to Mr. Clay, of course.” He looked back at the chief merchant of vice in Laramie. “We’ve a great many things to discuss, don’t we, Lucien?”
CHAPTER 38
Lucien Clay’s rooms made Adam Hagen jealous. It was a space fit for a king, though far too gaudy for a king like his father Charles. It had all of the adornments he would have expected to find in the saloon downstairs. Intricately carved wood around the fireplace, paintings of lounging naked women eating grapes, and more mirrors than he had seen in some brothels.
The whore on Clay’s lap clipped his cigar and placed it in his mouth. She thumbed a lucifer alive with an elegant hand and lit it for him. Hagen had been forced to light his own cigar, not that it bothered him much. It was fine tobacco, rivaled only by the brandy Clay had offered his guest. Hagen realized he would have to adopt many of these trappings in his bid to shift the power of this territory from Laramie to Blackstone. The true power, anyway.
But despite the elegant atmosphere and the beautiful woman in his lap, Lucien Clay still managed to glare at him from across the room. “Now that all the nonsense is over, tell me what you want.”
But Hagen was having too much fun to be rushed. “Why so angry, Mr. Clay? I would’ve thought some gratitude would be in order after I spared your life just now.”
“You mean that monster with a star down there?” Clay laughed. “Why, if he’d taken one step toward me, he would’ve been shredded before his next foot hit the floor.”
“Yet he aimed a pistol at you and no one moved a muscle,” Hagen observed. “Still, you were wise to keep your men out of it. It wasn’t their fight, and they were smart to let it play out.”
“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Clay said. “You had a Winchester at my back, remember?”
“Of course.” Hagen flicked his ash on the rug, intentionally ignoring the ashtray at his elbow. “Another wise move on your part. A gunshot to the kidney is such a horrible way to die. You’re a smart man, Mr. Clay. I think we can do business.”
“Business?” Clay sneered. The woman on his lap caressed his hair. “Why in the hell would I want to do business with you?”
“Because I’m very good at what I do,” Hagen said. “Because I’ve just cornered the opium market in Blackstone, and by the time I get back to town, I’ll have every saloon owner in town giving me a piece of their business due to my close relationship with Sheriff Trammel.”
“Blackstone isn’t even a pimple on Laramie’s ass,” Clay said. “I pull in more here at the Longhorn in a week than that whole burg does in a month, and that includes the opium trade.”
“Yet you tried so hard to free Madam Pinochet from Sheriff Trammel’s clutches. A woman who ran a town that isn’t even a pimple on the ass of Laramie, to use your phrase. Why is that?”
Clay told the whore on his lap to leave, which she did.
When they were alone, Clay said, “I don’t like discussing business in front of my girls. And I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Of course, you do,” Hagan said. “You don’t feed Madam Pinochet opium. The Celestials bring it to Blackstone first before it comes here. Fewer eyes that way. Less possibility of a shipment being stolen on a coach or a train,” Hagen offered. “Less for you to worry about, too, what with this being the county seat and all.”
Clay’s mouth grew hard. “No law against opium, Hagen.”
“But it’s so unseemly,” Hagen said. “And it’s so much nicer when such nasty things are handled elsewhere, like in Blackstone. So close, yet just far enough away. It’s a pleasant arrangement. Tell me something. Was it your idea or hers?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. I read all about it in her ledger.”
Clay stood up. “How the hell do you know about that?”
“Know about the ledger?” It was Hagen’s turn to laugh. “I not only know about it. I have it. And I know everything that’s in it, including all of the money you owe her. And all of the money she pays off to everyone in the territory. Including you. And the good Sheriff Abernathy, too.”
Clay’s eyes narrowed. Hagen could tell he was a man used to being in control of things. He didn’t like being on the pointy end of the stick, but he’d get used to it. He’d have no choice if he wanted to continue to operate in Wyoming. “How do I know you’re not bluffing?”
Hagen had been expecting that. “Because most of it is written in blue ink, in French, and in the madam’s own hand.”
“God, you really do have it.” Clay collapsed back into his seat. “What do you want?”
“For you and I to be friends, Lucien,” he said. “For us to become friends, and if you’ll give me a few moments of your time, I’ll lay out a plan that will not only make us both happy but incredibly rich.”
* * *
Trammel signed his name to the report Sheriff Abernathy had drawn up.
“You didn’t even read it,” the sheriff said.
“You wrote it down as I told it. I didn’t have to read it. I’m sure it’s fine.”
Abernathy sighed as he took the paper from him. “You know this is an official document, don’t you? A public document?”
“I’ve been a lawman before,” Trammel said. “Of a fashion, anyway. I know how the system works.”
“So you know word of what happened here will be in the papers. What you did and how you did it.”
“I killed four men who tried to kill me in broad daylight,” Trammel said. “I didn’t expect it to be forgotten the next morning.”
“There’s liable to be an inquest,” Abernathy went on. “You may have to come back to town to testify in open court. Would you be willing to do that?”
“Don’t see why I wouldn’t. It’s part of the process.”
Abernathy folded his thick fingers on top of the desk. “What I’m getting at here is that I don’t want to have to go up to Blackstone to get you. I’d appreciate it if you’d come peaceable if and when you have to. I’d like your word on that.”
Trammel grinned. “What’s the matter, Sheriff? You don’t think you and your men are enough to bring me here on your own?”
Abernathy leaned forward. “Boy, you just killed ten men in two days and hardly have a scratch on you except for them splinters sticking out of your face. Now, I know I could take you if I had to, but not before you and, most likely, some of my men got killed in the process. I’d like to avoid that, especially given that you’re in the right here. So, I’m asking you for your word that you’ll come back peaceably if you have to.” He extended his hand to Trammel.
Trammel regarded the hand, then shook it. “Peaceable.”
The sheriff tried to pull his hand away, but Trammel didn’t let it go. “Peaceable as in you sending me to Lucien Clay’s place without telling me about it first?”
Abernathy’s jaw opened. “Now just wait a minute.”
But Trammel’s grip only tightened, making Abernathy wince. “He told you to be on the lookout for me, didn’t he? Told you to send me into his place if I brought Pinochet to town.”
Abernathy said through gritted teeth. “Damn it, Trammel, it’s not as easy as that. Clay draws a lot of water in this town.”
“So you set me up to get killed, didn’t you? Not by those idiots who came at me just now, but by others he had sitting in the crowd.” He squeezed the hand just a bit tighter, causing Abernathy to cry out. “That’s why you knew I didn’t take the road from Blackstone. Because you knew Clay had men guarding that road. That’s why you made that crack about making Pinochet ride rough ground all the way from Blackstone, isn’t it? Admit it!”
“He said he wanted me to point you out if you got to town,” the sheriff winced. “That’s all, I swear.”
The two deputies rushed into the room with their pistols drawn.
Trammel looked at them as he squeezed the sheriff’s hand even tighter, making the lawman shriek. “Drop those pistols or I shatter his hand and pull his arm out of the socket.” He twisted the hand to the left, causing the sheriff to scream again. “Do it now, boys. Your boss is in a lot of pain.”
“Do it, damn you!” Abernathy screamed.
Both deputies placed their pistols on the jailhouse floor and took a step back. Trammel motioned for Abernathy to get up and come around to his side of the desk. He took the sheriff’s pistol from him before releasing him with a shove. The deputies scrambled to keep him upright as he cradled his arm.
Trammel held the sheriff’s gun on them. “Back in the cells. All three of you.”
Abernathy squinted through the pain. “What? Why?”
“How many men did Clay send to ambush us on the trail? And don’t tell me the five I killed because I don’t count them.”
“About twenty,” Johnny said. “At least that’s as near as we can figure.”
“And they’ll be coming back to town now that they know I’m here, won’t they?”
The second deputy nodded. “Mike Wilcox rode out to tell them the second we saw you in town. And they’re not those drunken cowpunchers you butchered, mister. They’re twenty of the worst men in the territory. You’ll be dead five minutes after they hit town.”
Trammel glanced at the Regulator clock on the wall. “Which I take it will be any minute now.” He looked at Sheriff Abernathy trying to flex feeling back into his arm. “Which is why you kept me busy giving my statement, isn’t it?”
Abernathy didn’t bother to deny it.
Trammel had heard enough anyway. “All of you, back in the cells like I said.”
“You can’t do this, Trammel,” Abernathy said. “By God, it ain’t right.”
“Looks like I’m doing it.” He thumbed back the hammer of his Colt. “Move. Now.”
The three lawmen reluctantly slunk back toward the cells. Johnny tried to grab the ring of keys that was on the hook next to the door. Trammel squeezed off a shot that slammed into the wall just above the peg. “Keep moving.”
When they got in the back, Trammel ordered all three of them into a cell. They grumbled as he locked the door.
Abernathy banged against the locked door and grabbed the bar with his left hand. “You’ll be dead in a few minutes, Trammel. You’ll never get away with this.”
Trammel smacked Abernathy’s hand with the butt of his own pistol. “Where have I heard that one before?”
Madam Pinochet’s cackle cut through the air as Trammel shut the door to the cells and locked it. He put a chair under the knob just for good measure.
The door did a good job of blocking out most of the cries for help from the deputies and the cackles from Madam Pinochet while he took stock of his situation. With Clay’s twenty riders coming back to town, he knew he didn’t have much time.
He threw the bolt across the jailhouse door, locking it. The door was too thin to withstand much of a barrage of rifle fire if it came down to that. The windows were small and didn’t have shutters. An intrepid rider could easily toss a firebomb in that way, making a bad situation even worse for Trammel. At least the walls were thick and would provide some sort of protection for him.
He checked the rifle rack for weapons he could use. None of the Winchesters proved better than his own. At least they had plenty of ammunition, which would help. He remembered he’d used his Peacemaker during his fight with Lefty and his men back at the Longhorn. He dumped out the spent rounds and reloaded from a box he’d found with the rifles. He left the box of bullets on the desk for fast reloading if it came down to that.
He checked his Winchester Centennial to make sure Hagen hadn’t used it during the dustup at the Longhorn. Fortunately, the weapon was still fully loaded. The sheriff’s office had plenty of spare ammunition for the rifle as well, should he need it.
Going up against twenty men, he figured he’d be dead before he made it through a box, but it was nice to know it was there if his luck turned.
He looked up when he heard people shouting outside. Then he felt the reason why they were shouting. The jailhouse floor began to shake beneath his feet as the twenty riders Clay had sent to watch the road from Blackstone came back to town.
It was time to make a decision. Would he hide in the jail until they came in to get him, probably after trying to smoke him out first? He might get the first bunch that came through the door, assuming he could see them through the smoke or hadn’t choked to death by then.
Or would he go out and meet them—and his death—on his terms? Die his own way and definitely take a couple of them with him?
It wasn’t a difficult decision for Buck Trammel to make.
He picked up his Winchester and threw the door open. He strode out onto the porch and set the butt of the rifle on his hip as he waited for the riders to reach town.
The first of the twenty raced past the jailhouse, while the others trailed behind at a slower clip. Trammel’s grip on the Winchester’s stock tightened as one after the other, men of all shapes and sizes filed past him without so much as a glance his way.
Are they surrounding the jail? Are they going to come back on foot after they livery their horses? Why not get it over with right now? I’m one man. They could ride past the building and take shots at me like I’ve heard the Indians do. Why aren’t they stopping?
He gave a start when he heard his name called out from across the street. “Sheriff Trammel!”
He brought his rifle to his shoulder as he aimed at the direction of where the sound had come from. It was Lucien Clay. And Adam Hagen was standing next to him.
Both men were smiling, which didn’t make Trammel feel any better. He lowered his rifle. “What do you want?”
“How are Sheriff Abernathy and his men?” Clay asked.
“They’re back with the prisoners.” Which wasn’t a total lie. “Why?”
Hagen’s laughter echoed across the thoroughfare. “Let them free, Buck. And if they’re still able to walk, let them come over here. Mr. Clay and I would like to talk to them. Then get something to eat. You look all about done in.”
Trammel slowly lowered his rifle entirely. He didn’t know if he could entirely trust Hagen, given his apparently new friendship with the man who had ordered him dead.
But Hagen had never crossed him before. Besides, if there was any shooting to be done, it probably would’ve happened by now. “You mean it’s over?”
He saw Hagen shove Clay, who yelled back, “It’s over, Sheriff. No hard feelings. Now go get something to eat anywhere in town. It’s on me. And don’t forget to send Abernathy over. I’ve got to get him straight on a few things.”
Trammel looked up at Hagen, who was positively beaming. “You all right?”
“All right?” Hagen clapped a hand on Clay’s shoulder, who didn’t look too happy by the gesture. “My friend, I’ve never been better. Now get those splinters taken care of. We’ve a fair piece of ground to cover tonight to Blackstone, and I don’t want that getting infected.”
CHAPTER 39
It was going on full dark by the time they saw the hint of lights from Blackstone on the trail. Trammel knew it wasn’t much of a tow
n by Laramie’s standards, but he was beginning to think of the place as home. He remembered standing on the jailhouse porch in Laramie only a few hours before, wondering if he’d ever see this place again. Wondering if he’d ever see Doctor Emily Downs again.
The poultice the doctor in Laramie had placed on his face was beginning to itch something fierce, but something worse had been nagging at Trammel the entire ride back to Blackstone. It was Hagen’s refusal to answer any questions about what had happened between him and Clay. Hagen’s constant humming had only served to make it worse.
Trammel drew his horse to a sudden halt, causing Hagen to do the same. “What’s wrong?”
“You’ve been too damned quiet and happy the whole way back here,” Trammel said. “I want to know what happened.”
“You already know what happened,” Hagen said. “I saved your life. Again.” He thought for a moment and said, “I suppose that’s not entirely true. I saved my own life, too. I wouldn’t have let you face those men on your own, and I would’ve been cut down right alongside you.”
Even in the dying light of the day, Trammel could see Hagen’s eyes flash. “Would’ve been a glorious end, though. Probably would’ve taken at least ten of them with us in the cross fire, but I’m glad it didn’t come to that.”
“That’s what’s been bothering me.” Trammel leaned forward in the saddle. “Why didn’t it come to that?”
“Because I was able to appeal to Mr. Clay’s better interests as a businessman and a proprietor,” Hagen explained. “I told him bloodshed was unnecessary and would be bad for business. Fortunately, I was able to convince him in time to send a rider and head off the men before they reached town.” Hagen’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t look happy.”
“Because I’m not. I don’t care about whatever agreement you reached, but you damned well better not have made any promises on my behalf.”
“None whatsoever,” Hagen said. “Our arrangement was one of business and had nothing to do with you, except insofar as he agreed to stop all attempts on your life. I convinced him your death would serve no purpose now that Madam Pinochet was in custody. And now she’ll be brought to trial, and justice will be served.”
North of Laramie Page 27
