Uriah moon 5, p.5
Uriah Moon 5, page 5
‘I always thought that you only killed for money, Buck,’ he said innocently. ‘You just killed Cortez for free. That don’t figure.’
Bryce smiled even wider.
‘Sure it does, Zack,’ he laughed. ‘Juan has money all over this hacienda. That’s my fee. Big and juicy and all mine. All we gotta do is find it and that’ll be the best payday I’ve ever earned.’
Suddenly both men saw the young attractive maid standing at the rooms edge. Her eyes were fixed upon the dead body in the center of the room. Somehow she had not screamed or dropped the large silver tray she was carrying like most folks would have done.
It was though she had been expecting this day and it had come as no surprise to her.
Bryce walked to the female and took the tray of dinks and food from her. Her sultry beauty seemed unfazed by the sight of her dead employer or the pair of strangers.
‘Who are you, señor?’ she asked.
‘I’m your new boss,’ he informed her.
Chapter Five
URIAH MOON HAD detected the lingering smell of outhouses in sorrowful need of fresh lime long before his narrowed eyes had noticed the array of wood and red brick structures. The haunting sound of Cougar’s Bluff’s solitary saloon echoed around its remaining buildings. Tinny piano music and guitars missing strings travelled well in the night air and greeted the trail weary travelers. The sky was dark but chimney smoke hung just above the roof tops and made it impossible to see any of the heavens stars. Distant thunder rang out in the heavens as the sky erupted into white flashes above the chimney smoke. This was an ominous omen to those who heeded such things. To Moon it meant nothing as his unblinking eyes studied the remote settlement.
The haunting vigilante was well-used to the eerily creepy sounds which dominated the lawless lands. It was as though the Devil himself was greeting his arrival at nearly all of the treacherous destinations he rode into.
Moon noted that about half of the stores within its boundaries were still open for business as he steadied his mustang in the light of a lantern which hung above a double door at the top of some steps. Its dim light illuminated a wooden sign which swung on rusted chains with the word ‘HOTEL’ painted upon its weathered surface.
The vigilante stopped his horse and looked at the hotel. It was a sad reminder of what becomes of a once proud building when a town slowly dies around it. Decay was now everywhere within Cougar’s Bluff and marked all of its once neat buildings with the sign of impending death.
‘Are we staying here for the night, Moon?’ the wagon driver asked the expressionless horseman.
‘I’ll check to see if they got room, Cal,’ the vigilante drawled. The four troopers who flanked the gelded mustang stared at the mysterious horseman. If looks could kill, Moon was living on borrowed time.
Uriah Moon stood in his stirrups and looped his right leg over the saddle cantle and then lowered himself off the back of the gelding. He secured his reins to a hitching rail and tied them before glancing up at the wagon driver and exchanging silent nods. Both men realized that the real danger was not the town but the troopers who were meant to protect the three females.
The bearded vigilante watched as the four troopers guided their mounts around his mustang before they too dismounted to either side of him and also tied their leathers to the long twisted rail.
Moon strode closer to the wagon, glanced up at the trustworthy White and pushed his hat off his dust-caked face before exhaling as he watched the four other soldiers talking among themselves secretively.
‘What you planning to do, Moon?’ White whispered down to the tall figure standing below his high driver’s seat. ‘What we gonna do with these young girls now we can’t leave them with their aunt?’
‘I ain’t figured that yet, Cal,’ Moon drawled as he tightened the leather lace around his long beard as his eyes darted to the four soldiers. ‘But I’m working on it.’
As the words left his mouth, the vigilante noticed the curious face of the handsome June standing just behind the seated White. She was also troubled by the unexpected situation they had found themselves in. She leaned over the backrest and poked her head out of its canvas confines.
Moon tilted his head.
‘We should return to Fort Hook, Uriah,’ she said in a hushed tone. ‘Maybe the army can find another relative willing to take on the girls.’
Moon gave a slow nod of his head as a dozen conflicting thoughts invaded his mind. The last thing he wanted to do was travel back through the infamous Satan’s Spell. He had managed to dilute whatever evil resided in the menacing forest for the moment but knew that evil was never quite that easy to destroy and could raise its ugly head again. He exhaled and tried to think of another plan which did not require them returning to the dangerous place ominously known as Satan’s Spell.
‘What do you think, Uriah?’ June pressed the tall vigilante for an answer. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘Moon’s working on it, Mrs. Marcus,’ Cal White reassured the troubled female as he felt her hands on his shoulders as he sat holding his sturdy leather reins.
Uriah Moon raised his arm and touched her handsome cheek with his long fingers and gave a nod of his head before turning and staring at the building.
His eyes tightened as they studied the hotel sign.
‘I’ll check to see if they’ve got room enough for all of us,’ Moon drawled as he glanced at the soldiers for a split second before returning his attention to the structure before him. ‘If nothing else we might be able to rest our bones until daybreak. I’ll go and see.’
Every eye of the small band watched as Moon mounted the four steps up to the large double doors of the hotel which had obviously been built when times had been a lot better for Cougar’s Bluff. Now its flaking paintwork bore witness to the fact that the remote settlement was like so many other towns in the perilous west.
It was dying.
The towering figure of Moon entered the hotel and looked around its lobby for a few moments. Then he saw a grim looking man appear from what he assumed was its dining hall and move toward the registration desk at a slow deliberate pace. The man was painfully slim. His tailored suit hung on him as though he had lost a lot of weight since first putting it on.
‘Good evening, sir,’ he said politely.
‘Howdy,’ Moon replied.
The interior of the hotel had been well constructed but was in sorrowful need of a fresh coat of paint, the vigilante thought. But it was clean and well dusted and looked a lot better than its exterior implied.
‘You got some any rooms to rent, friend?’ Moon asked as he slowly approached the man who was already dipping a pen into an inkwell. ‘I’ve got a bunch of folks outside who need a bed for the night.’
The man gave a slow nod of his head.
‘How many rooms?’ he asked looking around the wide shouldered vigilante through its glass paned doors at the wagon and waiting troopers gathered in the light of his porch lantern.
Moon did a quick bit of calculating on his fingers and then looked at the man he assumed was the hotel clerk.
‘How many cots in the rooms?’ Moon questioned dryly.
‘As many cots as you want, stranger,’ the man replied simply.
The vigilante was impressed by the seasoned man who seemed to know his job. He started to nod.
‘Good enough,’ Moon said as he counted on his fingers. ‘We got three females and five troopers and me. I reckon three rooms will do just fine.’
The man jotted a few figures on a scrap of paper with his pencil.
‘Three females in one room,’ he said before adding. ‘Plus a four cot room for the troopers and a two cot room for you and one of them soldier boys. Does that suit you?’
‘That’ll suit me just fine, friend,’ Moon drawled as he pulled his tobacco pouch from his pocket and started to tap its makings on to a gummed scrap of paper curled between his fingers and thumb. ‘Any chance of some grub?’
The man shook his head. ‘Nope. Not until breakfast. The cook comes in around seven and breakfast is on the table about eight. That’s the best I can do.’
‘That’s fine,’ Moon said licked the gummed edge of the paper and then placed the cigarette into his mouth and struck a match with his thumbnail and sucked in its smoke. He filled his lungs with the strong smoke and then exhaled a line of grey smoke at the floor.
The thin figure watched as the vigilante smoked thoughtfully without saying a word. He simply studied the strange appearance of his latest guest but experience had taught him not to get too curious. Some folks who rented rooms in his hotel did not like being asked questions and could get riled up by even the smallest of enquires. Without saying a word he pushed an ashtray across his desk counter toward his guest.
Uriah Moon sucked the last of the smoke from his crude cigarette and stubbed it into the ashtray.
‘I’ll arrange for the cook to prepare breakfast for your party,’ the man said blankly.
Moon nodded and stared at the man. ‘Is this your hotel, friend?’
The man gave a nod of his head.
‘Yep, unfortunately I own this hotel,’ he stated in a tone that could have either meant he was proud or riddled with sadness.
‘I’ve seen a lot worse hotels in thriving towns,’ Moon praised. ‘This place is better than most.’
‘Thank you kindly.’ The thin man sighed.
‘What’s your name?’ Moon asked as he turned the register around and accepted the loaded pen. As he signed the large book the thin man stared long and hard at the vigilante.
‘My names Ken Mason, stranger,’ he replied. ‘What do they call you?’
‘There.’ Moon finished scrawling his name and turned the book around and pointed at his writing. The scrawled signature was illegible.
Mason exhaled and shrugged. ‘What’s it say?’
‘Uriah Moon,’ the vigilante drawled.
‘Are you sure that’s what you wrote?’ the thin man asked with a raised eyebrow.
Moon shrugged. ‘I’m sure.’
Mason wandered to the other side of the desk and held his hand out until Moon dropped a few silver dollars into his palm and then informed the tall vigilante.
‘There’s a saloon and a café down the street,’ Mason informed as he headed toward the staircase. ‘I’d suggest your party goes there for about an hour until I get your rooms sorted, Mr. Moon. The grub is good in the café and I’m told the saloon has good whiskey. I wouldn’t know as I don’t drink hard liquor myself.’
‘Me neither,’ Moon said as he pushed himself away from the desk and adjusted his gun belt. ‘I do like a good cup of coffee though.’
Mason’s expression changed. He actually smiled.
‘I can recommend the coffee at the café, Mr. Moon,’ Mason said as he moved to the foot of the stairs. ‘I’ll get the rooms ready.’
Moon touched the brim of his hat.
‘Much obliged, Mr. Mason,’ he said.
The haunting image of the tall vigilante was enough to dry the blood in most men’s veins as they looked upon Uriah Moon as he came out of the hotel and was bathed in the uncanny amber light of the streets coal tar oil street lanterns. His long white hair caught the evening breeze and flapped on his shoulders like the wings of a hungry bird of prey.
‘You rent us some rooms, Moon?’ Trooper Doyle snarled at the tall figure.
The vigilante silently nodded.
The troopers watched as Moon closed the hotel doors, descended the four steps and stopped defiantly beside the four soldiers and glared at them with his icy blue eyes.
The vigilante leaned closer to soldiers.
‘There’s a saloon down yonder, boys,’ he said with a nod of his head. ‘I’ve arranged for a room for the four of you. Come back when you’ve wetted your whistles and the desk clerk will give you the room key.’
Trooper Ben Doyle was still nursing his bruised and battered face after he and his fellow trooper Chuck Smith had tangled with the vigilante a few days earlier back at Fort Hook. Doyle was a man who held a grudge with anyone who dared to question his doubtful morals and that was exactly what the tall Moon had done with his fists.
Some men learn from their mistakes but not Doyle or his fellow trooper Chuck Smith. They held a deep grievance against the vigilante and it had been festering since they had been chosen to escort the covered wagon at Fort Hook.
Neither were smart enough to realize that it did not pay to hold a grudge against the chilling Uriah Moon. He was someone who knew how to kill with blood-chilling expertise and was always willing do it again.
‘What you looking at, Doyle?’ Moon growled in a deep threatening manner. ‘I just said that you boys can go drink your fill at the saloon.’
Doyle moved closer to the lethal vigilante. His expression was still one of steadily increasing anger at the man who had beaten them both. That was something he had vowed to get revenge for.
‘Who is gonna pay for our drinks, Moon?’ Doyle growled in a threatening manner which did little to trouble the vigilante.
To the surprise of the four soldiers, Moon pulled a few silver dollars from his vest pocket and tossed them at the snarling Doyle. Surprised, Doyle caught the coins and turned away toward his fellow soldiers.
‘That’ll buy you a handful of drinks,’ Moon said in a low tone. ‘If you want more whiskey, you can pay for it yourselves. Now go before I change my mind.’
For a brief moment Doyle forgot his anger.
‘Come on, boys,’ he said to his fellow troopers. ‘Let’s go find that saloon.’
It was easy to find the saloon. Its tinny piano music drifted on the air within its spilling lamp light. The troopers were drawn to it like moths to a naked flame.
As they walked away from the hotel in search of the saloon Moon’s attention was drawn by the voice of the wagon driver above him.
‘Them boys are gonna be even worse when they get themselves liquored up, Moon,’ White said knowingly. ‘Mark my words. Doyle is just brewing for a fight.’
‘I know that, Cal,’ Moon said. ‘If that’s what he wants, I’m more than happy to oblige him.’
‘What about the females, Moon?’ White asked as he slowly eased his tired frame down from the high driver’s seat to the boardwalk. ‘We can’t go taking them to that saloon. Who knows what they get up to in these lawless parts.’
The vigilante listened to the seasoned wagon driver and silently agreed with every word he said. Yet Moon had no intension of entering the saloon with anyone. He was thirsty for coffee and a little supper.
‘I don’t intend taking them girls to the saloon, Cal.’ Uriah Moon walked to the wagon tailgate with White at his side. They pulled the pins and lowered the wooden gate down as June unhooked the canvas. ‘There’s nothing I hate more than the smell of stale whiskey.’
White gave a muted chuckle. ‘Next you’ll be telling me that you is a church goer, boy. Are you?’
‘Hardly.’ Moon glanced at the amused White and silently shrugged. He shook his head and then continued opening up the back of the covered wagon.
As the canvas was pulled to either side the vigilante’s eyes darted between the handsome widow lady and the two youngsters who were huddled beneath a thick patchwork quilt. They looked like startled jack rabbits at Moon.
The golden haired girls had only just been woken up by the handsome June and looked at the two men standing at the end of the covered wagon. The tall vigilante touched the wide brim of his hat in respectful greeting to both Josie and Betty Hooper as they smiled back at him. They were sleepily aided to the edge of the wagon by June and then helped to the ground by Moon.
Then Moon put his hands around the waist of the widow lady and helped her to the ground before White pushed the tailgate back up and pinned it.
‘Where are we going? To the hotel?’ June asked as she teased her loose hair off her face. ‘Did you manage to rent us some rooms?’
‘Yep, I’ve rented us some rooms,’ Moon replied. ‘but they ain’t ready yet.’
June looked up into his expressionless features and raised a perfect eyebrow. ‘Then where are we going?’
‘There’s a café yonder,’ Moon replied pointing a long finger in the direction of where he had been told the eatery was located. It was a block closer than the saloon. ‘We’ll go there and have ourselves some grub while the hotel owner gets our rooms sorted.’
The night breeze drifted along the streets of Cougar’s Bluff but neither Moon nor the wagon driver noticed. The females however started to shiver. His long fingers plucked two small shawls from the inside of the wagon. Moon handed them to both of the sisters.
He then repeated the action and gave another to the older female.
‘Here,’ he drawled deeply. ‘This’ll keep the cold out of your shoulders.’
‘Thank you, Uriah.’ She smiled at the tall man and wrapped it around her shoulders. The girls were sleepy and leaned against the hips of the handsome widow lady as she steered them on to the boardwalk.
Cal White looked at Moon. ‘I’ll put the feed bags on the team and they can fill their bellies while we have ourselves some supper.’
Uriah Moon silently nodded and led the females along the quiet boardwalk toward the café as White pulled out his canvas and leather feedbags from his driver’s box and started to hang them over the noses of his team.
‘I’ll catch up to you, Moon,’ the veteran soldier said as he worked. ‘You want me to feed your gelding, boy?’
The expressionless vigilante nodded and continued on toward the café and the aromatic aroma which billowed from its open front window. Moon opened the door, allowed the girls and June to enter before following them into the café.
As was his habit, Moon surveyed the structure with his keen eyes just in case trouble was hiding within its four walls. He had discovered trouble in less obvious places over the years and it had always been bloody.
The structure was of a reasonable size and had only one customer close to the front door. Moon shepherded the females close to the back of the structure before finding a table with five vacant chairs around a circular table.
