Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles Page 7

  “Don’t worry about Boulder,” Wes said. “The train makes a water stop after crossing into eastern Colorado. We’ll unload our horses and get off there. By the time they learn we’re not on the train, we’ll be well ahead of them. But we can’t count on escaping them so easily. There may be killers in the hotel in Kansas City, as well as on the train.”

  It was time for breakfast, and with a sigh El Lobo followed Wes to the dining hall. Louise and Monique were already there, and they waved. Wes and El Lobo made their way to the table and sat down.

  “My God,” said Louise, “I can’t wait to get off this steamboat and into a real bed. All night, I tossed and turned.”

  “So did I,” Monique said.

  “There are some fine hotels in Kansas City,” said Wes. “El Lobo and me aim to spend a night there, before going on to Boulder.”

  “You’re going to Boulder?” Louise cried. “Wonderful.”

  “Yes,” said Monique. “We can stay over in Kansas City and travel with you.”

  “Don’t let us slow you down,” Wes said. “It’s a long ride from Kansas City to Boulder and we may stop over in Dodge City. I have an old friend there I haven’t seen in a long while.”

  “We’re not in that much of a hurry,” said Louise. “It will be worth the delay just to sleep in a decent bed.”

  Breakfast was pleasant enough, but there was trouble during supper when part of the past caught up with Louise. Wes and El Lobo had just joined the women when a stranger approached the table. He came up behind Louise and with unmistakable familiarity placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “Let me go!” Louise cried.

  “Oh, come on, gal. This is old Sam Brenner. You pleasured me often enough in New Orleans.”

  One of the waiters had seen what was taking place, and he took Brenner by the arm.

  “Sir,” said the waiter, “release the lady or I’ll summon the captain.”

  “Leave the captain be,” Wes said, getting to his feet. “You, Brenner, back off and leave the lady alone.”

  “Mind your business, friend,” said Brenner, increasing his grip of the girl’s shoulders. “I seen plenty of this sister in New Orleans, and it wasn’t at no tea social.”

  He turned on the interfering waiter, flooring the man with a single blow. It was time enough for Wes to get around the table and land a blow of his own. Brenner stumbled into a table and it overturned with a crash. He was getting to his feet, cursing, when three of the waiters piled on him. Almost immediately, Captain Gavin arrived.

  “All of you, back to your tables,” Gavin ordered.

  When the curious had moved away, the waiter Brenner had slugged explained to the captain what had happened. Two of the waiters held Brenner’s arms behind his back while Captain Gavin faced him.

  “You, sir, are drunk,” said the captain. “I am confining you to your quarters for the rest of the night and ordering that you not be served anything stronger than lemonade or coffee for the remainder of this voyage.”

  The furious Brenner was led away and Captain Gavin turned to Louise.

  “My apologies, ma‘am, and my congratulations to you, sir,” he said, speaking to Wes. “Your action was timely and appropriate.”

  He turned away as one of the waiters approached the table.

  “I’m not hungry,” said Louise.

  “Neither am I,” Monique said. “I want to go out on the deck for some fresh air.”

  “El Lobo and me will go with you,” said Wes. “There may be some more of your old friends on board.”

  “Thank you,” Louise said, “but I don’t need you to protect my dubious honor.”

  “Maybe not,” said Wes, “but we have some talking to do.”

  “What he means,” Monique said sarcastically, “is that you and me have some talking to do. I suppose we might as well be done with it.”

  Louise sighed. “I suppose.”

  It being the supper hour, the steamboat’s decks were deserted. The four of them took deck chairs and when neither of the women spoke, Wes did.

  “After all that look-but-don‘t-touch talk, the two of you don’t seem to practice what you preach.”

  “Well, what did you expect?” Louise snapped. “Would you have been more impressed if we had confessed to being whores trying to escape our past?”

  “There’s somethin’ to be said for telling the truth,” said Wes. “Especially when there’s a chance it’ll track you down and you’ll have to face up to it.”

  “Some of it was true,” Monique said. “We’ve heard there is a Pretty Girl Saloon in Boulder, and that’s our reason for going there. We hoped if we traveled with you, perhaps we wouldn’t be noticed, that what happened tonight ... wouldn’t happen.”

  “We suspected you weren’t telling the whole truth,” said Wes. “With all that talk and your high-falutin’ ideas about men, you seemed almighty anxious to ride with a couple of hombres you’d never seen before.”

  “So you allowed us to stumble on, making total fools of ourselves,” Louise said.

  “Sí,” said El Lobo cheerfully.

  “When a woman makes a play for a man, she generally has plans for him,” Wes said. “We went along with you because we were curious, wondering how you aimed to use us.”

  “I suppose we deserved that,” said Louise.

  “Sí,” El Lobo repeated.

  “Damn it,” Monique snapped, “is that all you can say?”

  “Sí,” said El Lobo, striving mightily to keep a straight face.

  “All I can say is that I’m sorry if we’ve caused you embarrassment,” Louise said.

  “So am I,” said Monique. “You’ll not want to be seen with us again, I suppose.”

  “We have nothing against you,” Wes said, “now that you’ve told us the truth. Or at least some of it. We’ll reach Kansas City tomorrow, and it’s unlikely your past will follow you any farther.”

  “That’s more than kind of you,” said Louise, “and I’m glad that’s behind us. Once we reach Kansas City and a decent hotel, perhaps we can properly show our gratitude.”

  “You don’t owe us anything,” Wes said.

  Monique laughed. “Oh, but we do, and we pay our debts. We’ll meet you for breakfast.”

  When they had gone, El Lobo spoke.

  “What they do for us?”

  Wes laughed. “What can a couple of whores do to show their gratitude?”

  “They show you,” said El Lobo. “I no want.”

  “We’ll have to go along with whatever they have in mind,” Wes said, “because it likely involves more than gratitude. They may be setting us up for an ambush. Can you think of anything worse than being naked in bed, without your guns, with a bushwhacker gunning for you?”

  “Sangre de Cristo, ” said El Lobo, gritting his teeth.

  “Don’t let it bother you,” Wes said. “We don’t yet know what they have in mind, but when they spring it on us, we’ll be ready.”

  Kansas City. October 18,1884.

  When the steamboat’s whistle blew for the landing, Wes, El Lobo, and Empty were on deck. Louise and Monique joined them.

  “What hotel do you suggest?” Louise asked.

  “The River Front,” said Wes. “It’s not far from here.”

  “Will you be riding with us?” Monique asked.

  “No,” said Wes. “El Lobo and me have horses. We’ll have to stable them. Go ahead and take a hack to the hotel. We’ll join you there.”

  Louise and Monique looked doubtful, but they allowed deckhands to load their trunks into a hack and ordered the liveryman to drive them to the River Front Hotel.

  “They be waiting for us,” El Lobo said gloomily.

  “I reckon,” said Wes, “but we’re not there yet. We’ll have to ride along the river, and there’s some prime places for an ambush. This pack of outlaws we’re after will have more aces up their sleeves than Monique and Louise.”

  When deckhands brought horses and saddles, Wes and El Lobo
saddled up. Leaving the steamboat landing, they rode along a narrow street paralleling the river. There was a continuous row of warehouses and freighting sheds along the way, while on the opposite side of the street, there was only underbrush down to the water’s edge. Most of the sheds and warehouses had flat roofs with square or oval false fronts. There was little space between the buildings, so Wes and El Lobo kept their eyes on the various false fronts and roof overhangs. When the warning came, it was so slight that a casual observer wouldn’t have seen it. The brief reflection might have been a pinpoint of light off a glass pane ... or off the barrel of a Winchester. As though by given signal, Wes and El Lobo quit their saddles, taking their Winchesters with them. Lead ripped the air as they bellied down in waist-high vegetation, seeking a target. But the bushwhackers were firing from cover, and there was no target. The firing ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Wes hung his hat on the muzzle of his Winchester, and when he raised it, it drew no fire.

  “They’re gone,” Wes said. “Let’s ride, before somebody comes to see what the shooting was all about ”

  Their horses had paused to graze, and mounting, they rode on. Their eyes continued to scan the rooftops and a few vacant buildings, but there was no more shooting. Reaching a livery near the River Front Hotel, they stabled their horses. Carrying their saddlebags and Winchesters, they started toward the hotel. Not surprisingly, Louise and Monique were waiting in the lobby.

  “We’re on the second floor,” Louise said. “Rooms twenty-eight and twenty-nine.”

  “Then we’ll take a room there,” said Wes.

  Wes thought El Lobo was about to say something, and almost imperceptively shook his head. He thought he knew why the two women had taken separate rooms. Not until they reached their room—number thirty-two—did El Lobo speak.

  “They trap us. You with Louise, El Lobo with Monique.”

  Opening his saddlebag, Wes removed a handful of yard-long leather thongs. Beneath his coat, he tucked four of the thongs under his belt. Without a word, El Lobo took four of the leather thongs, concealing them beneath his coat. He grinned at Wes, and Wes spoke quietly.

  “If Monique invites you to her room, go with her, but under no circumstances are either of you to get into that bed. Keep her out of it any way you must, and keep her quiet. Keep the room dark, your Colt handy, and position yourself anywhere except between the bed and the door.”

  “Sí,” El Lobo said. “Bueno.”

  Wes answered a knock on the door, and it was Louise.

  “It’s two hours till suppertime. What are you going to do until then?”

  “We’re goin’ to take off our hats, kick off our boots, and get some sleep,” said Wes. “After three nights on a steamboat bunk, we’re in need of it.”

  “I suppose we are too,” Louise said. “The hotel has a dining room. Will you join us there for supper?”

  “We’ll be there,” said Wes.

  When Louise had gone, Empty stood glaring at the closed door. He didn’t like Louise any more than he liked Monique. El Lobo laughed.

  “Empty,” Wes said, “lie down.”

  An hour before Wes and El Lobo were to join Louise and Monique for supper, Wes led Empty downstairs to the kitchen, where he had arranged for the dog to be fed. Shortly after he had taken Empty back to the room, Louise again knocked on the door.

  “I reckon we’re ready,” Wes said.

  Following El Lobo into the hall, he turned to lock the door, only to find himself looking into the disapproving eyes of Empty. He sighed, and turning the key in the lock, started down the hall toward the stairs. Wes and El Lobo paused at the entrance to the hotel dining room, allowing Louise and Monique to go ahead. It was still early evening, and none of the few patrons already there aroused any suspicion. Wes and El Lobo took their places across the table from Monique and Louise. There was little conversation during the meal, but all too soon it was over, and it was Louise who broke the silence.

  “Both of you have been so kind to us, it’s time we did something nice in return.”

  “You don’t owe us anything,” said Wes.

  “Oh, but we do,” Monique said. “Each of us took a room for tonight, just to show our appreciation for your kindness. You,” she said, her eyes on El Lobo, “will come to my room at eight o‘clock. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “You have the same invitation, Wes,” said Louise. “You won’t disappoint us, will you?”

  El Lobo tensed as though about to spring to his feet and run for his life, but Wes dug an elbow into him and spoke for them both.

  “I reckon we’ll be there.”

  They all returned to the second floor, and not until Wes and El Lobo were in their room did El Lobo say what he thought.

  “Amigo, this be hell. I no like.”

  “Neither do I,” said Wes, “but we’re just playing a part long enough to spring a trap. All you have to do is keep Monique off that bed and keep her quiet. How you manage it is entirely up to you. We have two hours to get what sleep we can. If we have visitors, they may not arrive until late.”

  Wes looked at his watch, and at five minutes before eight blew out the lamp. Following El Lobo into the hall, Wes left their door unlocked, should they have to enter quickly. While Wes knocked on one door, El Lobo knocked on the other. When a voice bid them enter, they did so. Wes found Louise stretched out on the bed wearing only a smile, and the lamp had been turned down low. Wes closed the door, went to the bedside table, and blew out the lamp.

  “Why did you do that?” Louise demanded. “Don’t you like what you see?”

  “Get off the bed,” said Wes.

  “Why? You’re supposed to join me.”

  “Damn it,” Wes snapped, “get off the bed.”

  She got up, and Wes dragged off the coverlet, spreading it in a comer to the right of the door.

  “We’re going to spend some time over there,” said Wes.

  “On the floor?”

  “On the floor,” Wes said, “and don’t ask me why. You’ll know soon enough.”

  In Monique’s room, El Lobo had gotten only as far as blowing out the lamp.

  “Off bed,” he demanded.

  “No,” said Monique. “You get on the bed. Don’t you know what to do with a naked woman?”

  El Lobo seized the foot of the coverlet and dragged it off the bed, bringing Monique with it. She cried out when her behind and her head struck the floor. El Lobo rolled her off the coverlet, and folding it, spread it in the comer to the right of the door.

  “There,” said El Lobo.

  “No,” Monique snapped, throwing herself back on the bed.

  El Lobo seized her by the arm and with her free hand she slapped him. Doubling his fist, El Lobo hit her just behind her left ear. Quickly he bound her hands and feet with the leather thongs Wes had provided and sat her down on the coverlet, her back to the wall. On second thought, before she regained consciousness, he gagged her with one of her silk stockings.

  “One way or the other,” Wes told Louise, “you’re going to sit with me on that coverlet. I’ll tie you hand and foot, if you won’t have it any other way.”

  “I’ll do it your way,” said Louise coldly. “Do you want me naked, or am I allowed to dress myself?”

  “Dress yourself,” Wes said, “as long as you do it in the dark. Since we have company coming, you’ll want to look your best.”

  Wes heard a rustling as she dressed, and he was ready when she made a break for the door. He caught her by the arm and spun her around, raising his knee to block hers as she went for his groin. She swung her fist and bloodied his nose before he got hold of her hands.

  “Now,” said Wes though gritted teeth, “do you sit, or do I knock you senseless, bind and gag you?”

  “I’ll sit,” she snapped.

  He led her to the coverlet he’d spread on the floor and she sat down, her back to the wall. Wes sat between her and the door, a cocked Colt in his hand. After a long silence, she spoke.

&nbs
p; “What are we waiting for?”

  “I think you know,” said Wes, “but you don’t know it all. When it’s over, you’ll be almighty glad you weren’t in that bed.”

  El Lobo continued having trouble with Monique. Although bound and gagged, she had slammed her head against the wall and her bound feet against the floor, making a furious noise behind her gag. On impulse, El Lobo removed the gag, getting his hand over her mouth before she could scream.

  “I turn you loose, you be quiet?”

  He moved his hand just enough for her to speak, and to his surprise she did.

  “I ... I’ll be quiet. Please untie me. My hands and feet feel dead.”

  Quickly he cut her bonds, prepared for a new outburst, but it didn’t come. Instead, she began wringing her hands and rubbing her ankles. Getting to his feet, El Lobo went to a chair where she had left her clothes, and brought them to her. Without a word, she began getting dressed, and only when she had finished did she speak.

  “If it’s not asking too much, tell me why you’re doing this?”

  “You wait, you see,” said El Lobo as he drew and cocked one of his Colts.

  It was past midnight when two men entered the lobby of the hotel. Each wore a long coat and their hats were tilted low, shadowing their faces. Slumped in a chair behind the desk, the hotel clerk snored noisily. Avoiding the bell that would awaken the clerk, one of the men turned back a page or two of the hotel register until he found what he sought. The two of them ascended the stairs, and reaching the second floor, made their way to the far end of the hall. Finding the door to the rear stairs bolted, they released the dead bolt. Then they quietly retraced their steps along the hall. Each took his position outside a door, and from beneath long coats, each removed and cocked a double-barrel shotgun. Timing their move, each slowly turned the knob of a door.

  As the doors eased open, Wes and El Lobo waited. They wouldn’t have a clear shot until the bushwhackers opened the door far enough to make their move. Both shotguns roared at the same instant, double loads of buckshot slamming into the empty beds. Before the sound of the blasts had died away, there was the rolling thunder of Colts, followed by groans of anguish from the hall. In almost the same breath, Monique and Louise screamed.