Texas trails book 3, p.8
Texas Trails Book 3, page 8
“I seen her first,” Charlie countered.
“I would’ve seen her anyhow,” Guy said. “And I shot her.”
“You get on back there,” Gideon said. “It don’t matter who did what.”
“And don’t forget to try to get information to us on the next job,” Charlie said. “ We want that gang did in like they ran into bad luck or something. Then we can go into Stavanger for the showdown with Ace Erickson.”
“Don’t forget Gustavo Fairweather,” Guy said. “He’s the meanest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen.” He grinned. “Outside o’ Gideon Magee, that is.”
“That’s right,” Gideon said. “And don’t you forget it!”
Charlie looked straight at Guy. “Just remember you’re there to trap that gang, not make a lot o’ money.”
“I know how we could get ’em fast,” Guy said. “If I was a backshooter, I could get ever’ one of ’em while they was asleep.”
“ Would you do that?” Gideon asked.
Guy shook his head. “Nope. Not my style. But I’ll lead ’em into a trap the first chance I get.” He stepped up in the saddle, swinging his leg over the deer as he forked it. “I’m on my way back to the ranch. See you boys later, if I can. Especially if I learn about a job that’s gonna be pulled. If I can’t get to you, at least I’ll leave you a note first chance.”
“So long,” Charlie said.
“Good luck,” Gideon added.
Guy waved and rode off, turning north to rejoin the gang. It took him a couple of hours to get back to the ranch. When he got there he noticed a wagon with a canvas cover in front of the house. A lot of whooping and hollering came from inside. Guy figured the gals must have arrived.
He untied the deer and slung it across his shoulders. When he walked through the door, everyone in the room turned and looked at him. “I told you I was going hunting,” Guy said.
“By God, you did!” Ned Paulson said. He walked over a bit drunkenly. “Looks like we got some venison for tomorrow, ain’t we?”
“Sure, do,” Guy said. He glanced around to look at the women. They were three of the ugliest he’d ever seen. One was a pouting, obese slattern, another a worn-out crone, while the third was just a scowling, skinny whore. “I reckon I’ll take the deer to the corral and start the butchering.”
“Do it in the morning,” Paulson said. “If you leave the meat around, the coyotes’ll get it.” He laughed. “And there ain’t gonna be nobody in this bunch in condition to stand guard over it.”
“I reckon not,” Guy agreed. “I’ll put her in the corner and tend to the chore tomorrow first chance.” He carried the animal over to a far part of the house and set it down on the floor. It was then that he noticed Gustavo Fairweather sitting at a table drinking. Guy decided it was time to strike up a conversation with him. He walked over. “Howdy.”
Fairweather looked up at him. “Howdy.”
“I reckon that job went petty good,” Guy said.
“Yeah,” Fairweather said.
“When are you gonna bring us another’n?” Guy asked.
“I did tonight,” Fairweather answered. “You was out hunting.”
“Another stage?”
Fairweather shook his head. “You boys is gonna hit the Texas Central Railroad in a week. You’re gonna, have to leave by midday tomorrow.”
“That’s good,” Guy said. “Where’s this supposed to happen?”
“Between Longview and Marshall,” Fairweather said. “Perty close to Louisiana.”
“That’s a long ride,” Guy remarked.
“It’ll be worth it,” Fairweather assured him.
“What’s the loot?”
“Gold pieces,” Fairweather said. “Twenty-dollar ones. We got some just like ’em on another job a while back before you joined up with us.”
“I always say you can’t have enough gold coins,” Guy said.
Fairweather flashed a rare smile. “Yeah.”
The fat whore came over and sat down. She gave Guy her best seductive glance. It came across as a sort of drunken, heavy-lidded stare. “I ain’t seen you before.”
“Nope. I’m new,” Guy said.
“You’re a cute feller,” she said. “I like my men skinny.”
“That’s me,” Guy said.
“You looking for a good time?” she asked.
“Lemme have a few drinks first, honey bunch,” Guy said. “Then we’ll see ’bout good times.” He got to his feet and walked over to where several whiskey bottles were setting. He grabbed one and went off to the side of the room and sat down to watch the revelry. He pulled the cork and took a swallow.
It looked like he’d be able to get a note out to Charlie and Gideon this time. When the Texas Central Railroad got hit, there would be hell to pay and people dying.
Chapter Nine
The strikes of ax blades biting into the trees rang through the glen as Shorty Darnell, Willy Kemp, and Elmer Sherman labored at chopping down a few select specimens from a stand of cypress trees.
Six had already been felled and dragged by horses to lay across the railroad tracks that cut through the small forest where the site of the robbery had been chosen.
Ned Paulson, experienced at stopping trains for the purpose of looting them, was picky and argumentative when it came to placing the barriers just right.
“Do what I tell you dumb son of a bitches to do!” he shouted each time his outlaw charges became careless in their work. “If you’re too far out, the engineer is gonna see ’em and come to a stop with plenty o’ chance to back up. Remember your horses, which are a lot brighter’n any o’ you, can’t run as fast forward as a train can go backward!”
“We understand, Ned,” Shorty assured him.
“On the other hand,” Paulson continued. “If you put them trees too far ahead, the engineer’ll come barreling straight across ’em at full speed and the whole damn train is gonna be derailed.”
“What the hell’s wrong with that?” Elmer Sherman wanted to know.
“On account o’ all you got is a pile o’ mashed cars all run together and you can’t find shit in the mess, you dumb bastard! Ain’t you ever seen how twisted up a train gets when it’s derailed while running full out?” Paulson yelled. “Now put them things where I tell you to. It’ll make the train stop, and we can jump aboard before he backs up.”
The men obeyed his instructions to the letter as the logs were piled up to form the correct obstruction to stop the train. The whole job took three hours of hard toil, something men who chose to live on the owlhoot trail as outlaws did not like one bit.
When they finished, instead of having feelings of accomplishment, they complained:
“Damn! My arms is all tired out!” Elmer Sherman said. “It’s gonna be hard to hold my shooting iron.”
“Them logs is hard to roll around even with a horse to help,” Shorty Darnell bellyached.
“I got blisters on my hands like a damn ditch-digger,” Willy Kemp said. “They hurt!”
Paulson sneered. “You shoulda worn gloves like anybody with a lick o’ sense would do.”
Even Guy Tyrone was in a bad mood. “I hope we got time to rest up before we hold up that train. I’m too tuckered right now to worry about robbing some baggage car.”
“All of you just shut up and listen,” Paulson ordered them. “We ain’t got time to stand around here crying like wored-out whores on a Saturday night. We got a goddamned train to rob. Now, I want Jess and Shorty on the far side o’ the tracks. Keep an eye on anybody that might get off the train on that side and tries to sneak around to get a shot at us.”
“We’ll do it, Ned,” Jess assured him.
Paulson continued his instructions. “Elmer and Lee, you two take the engineer. When the train stops, jump up in the cab with him and the fireman. Just throw down on ’em and make sure they don’t try to take off. The best thing is have ’em stay away from the levers.”
“You bet, Ned,” Elmer said.
“Me, Guy, and Willy is gonna hit the baggage car,” Ned said.
The thought made Guy nervous. He had managed to get a note out to the rock by the cottonwood telling Charlie Delano and Gideon Magee all the details of the planned train robbery. If they got the information, chances were good that when the baggage car door opened, there would be a swarm of hot lead flying out of it. Especially with someone like Gideon Magee, who always liked to shoot people instead of arresting them.'
Ned noticed his obvious nervousness. “What’s got a burr under your saddle, Guy?”
“It’s all this damn work,” Guy said with a weak grin. “I reckon I just ain’t never got used to honest toil.”
Paulson laughed. “Well, this time you’re sweating for twenty-dollar gold pieces. That oughta make you feel better.”
“Yeah,” Guy said. “It oughta.”
“Ever’body get into position,” Paulson said. “And be ready to act quick.”
The gang situated themselves as they had been ordered. Guy settled down on one side of the tracks with Paulson and Willy Kemp. He waved at Jess Garbel across from them.
“Don’t forget not to let nobody sneak out on that side,” Guy reminded him.
“You just get all them gold pieces,” Jess replied. “I don’t want nothing left to roll around on the floor o’ that baggage car.”
“I’ll get ever’ one of ’em,” Guy promised. He wasn’t as sure as he sounded, since a picture of Gideon Magee greeting them in the door of the baggage car with blazing Colts flitted through his mind.
Paulson still noted Guy’s nervousness. “Relax, will you, Guy? You’re acting as skittish as a Texas jack-rabbit trying to get past a rattlesnake in his hole.”
“I never robbed a train before,” Guy said. “I reckon that’s why I’m on the nervous side.”
“It’s all set up,” Paulson assured him. “We ain’t got a thing to fret about.”
“Are you sure?” Guy asked. Now he began to worry if Charlie Delano and Gideon Magee might be back-shot by some crooked railroad guard while they faced the gang. That meant he would have to be looking out for his two friends.
“Ace Erickson knows what he’s doing,” Paulson said. “When he sets up a job, he does it right.”
“Mmm,” Guy mused. He had planned on hanging back to make sure he didn’t get in the line of fire. But if he was going to have to cover Charlie and Gideon, he’d be moving up where the slugs would be flying. “Hell of a thing,” he said aloud.
“What is?” Kemp asked.
“Uh, doing all that work o’ chopping trees to get money the easy way,” Guy answered, thinking fast.
“You’re getting paid a hell of a lot better than any reg’lar woodcutter,” Kemp said.
“I suppose,” Guy said.
“You bet your ass you are,” Paulson said. “You’ll have twenty-dollar gold pieces jangling in your pockets afore you know it. A damn woodcutter wouldn’t make that in half a year o’ sweating his ass off.”
Guy nodded. He reached around for a reassuring touch of his jirara-wood billy club, then remembered that he had left the weapon behind when he took up the Ranger star. Too bad. It might have come in handy if a wild, swinging melee broke out. He turned his mind to other thoughts, studying the coolness of Ned Paulson.
The outlaw leader was smart, all right. He was a calm and sure hombre who knew exactly what he was doing. Guy figured he would try to keep a special eye on Ned Paulson when the shooting broke out.
A few moments of silence passed, then Elmer Sherman asked out loud what was on everybody’s mind. “Can we go to Stavanger after this job?”
“We’ll have to wait and see,” Paulson said. “If we do good, I’m sure Ace is gonna give us a little extra reward.”
“I tell you what I’d like to do,” Lee Fenney said. “I’d like to put a bullet in that lawyer Banter’s head.”
“No you don’t!” Paulson snapped. “Ace is the brains, but Banter handles getting all the information and arranging for perfection. Without him, we’re goners.
“Yeah,” Jess Garbel chimed in. “Why do you think we never get posses chasing after us at the ranch?”
“I still don’t like the son of a bitch,” Fenney insisted. “He thinks he’s better’n anybody else.”
“He’s from back east,” Paulson said. “What do you expect?”
“Train coming!” Shorty Darnell interrupted with a shout. “Listen!”
“I don’t hear nothing,” Willy Kemp said.
“Shut up and listen,” Paulson said. “Shorty hears it.”
“Shorty has the hearing of a jackrabbit,” Jess Garbel said.
They strained their ears for a few more moments before being rewarded with the distant sound of a locomotive.
“Let’s get ready!” Paulson said. “It’s time to go to work.”
The men tensed, particularly Guy, who now had to cover his friends in the car—if they were there—and protect himself as well. He went from nervousness to outright agitation.
“This is some job,” Guy said.
“Yeah,” Paulson agreed.
The train came on. Then, when it appeared around the distant curve, the engineer sighted the logs piled on the tracks. He hit the brakes hard, knowing exactly what was going to happen. The man knew that only quick action would save his train from being robbed. The locomotive was still slowing down as its driver threw the engine into reverse. But it was too late. The big machine kept moving forward slower and slower as it wound down to a stop.
Up front, Elmer Sherman and Lee Fenney ran from their hiding places and scrambled up the steps into the cab. They threw down on the two men inside.
Sherman sneered, “Hands up, goddamn you! If one o’ you so much as touches a lever, I’ll blow his damn head off!”
Both trainmen, their faces pale with fear, raised their hands.
“Go sit down on the coal,” Fenney said, motioning with his pistol.
They obeyed, settling down as best they could on the dirty lumps at the edge of the coal tender. When the pair realized they weren’t going to be wantonly murdered, they relaxed some to wait out what they knew was a robbery.
Jess Garbel and Shorty Darnell watched the far side of the train from a hidden position in the brush up on the side of a hill bordering the tracks. They stood ready to shoot down anybody who dismounted from the cars.
At those precise moments, Guy, Ned Paulson, and Willy Kemp stormed the baggage car. Paulson yelled, “Open up in there or we’ll dynamite you!”
A muffled voice inside called back, “Sure, mister. Gimme a chance to work the hasp.”
“Hurry up!” Paulson commanded in a loud voice.
The door shook a bit, then slid open slowly at first. Suddenly it was jerked wide open.
A shotgun blast, windy and hot, rushed past Guy’s face. He heard a whomping sound behind him and a gasp. Willy Kemp had caught the full force of the buckshot that hurled him off the railbed and down to the ground below.
Ned Paulson, snarling in fury, fired back at the car, his pistol barking with each squeeze of the trigger. Guy looked up and could see Gideon Magee swing up the barrel of a twelve-gauge sawed-off shotgun. It belched and flashed again as Paulson dove off the roadbed and fell beside Willy Kemp’s mangled remains.
Guy and Gideon locked glances, then Captain Charlie Delano came into view for an instant before turning to the other side of the car. Guy now also jumped to cover, joining Paulson below. He rolled up next to him and saw what was left of Kemp.
“Oh, God!” Guy exclaimed.
“He won’t be getting none o’ the loot,” Paulson casually observed between taking shots at the train.
“Can’t hardly tell who he is,” Guy said.
More firing came their way. Then others could be heard on the other side of the train.
“They’re gonna get Jess and Shorty for sure. They ain’t got a chance,” Paulson said. “Let’s get the hell out o’ here.” He jumped up and ran toward the horses with Guy following.
Now Sherman and Fenney could see what was happening. They quickly realized the train robbery had been stopped when they spotted Jess and Shorty sprawled on the ground where they’d fallen from behind the brush they had used as cover.
Sherman saw Guy and Paulson making a run for it. He shouted, “Let’s clear out!”
They didn’t even take time to shoot the engineer and fireman. The only thing on their minds was making a safe escape as they jumped down and took off after the other two.
Within a couple of minutes the robbery attempt was over and the four surviving members of the gang were riding like hell toward the west where the sanctuary of Denton County waited for them.
Fearful of a posse catching them before they were safe in their own territory, Paulson pressed on without regard to the horses. They skirted the town of Tatum, then swung back up between Kilgore and Tyler before he signaled them to slow down.
When they were finally able to talk, Elmer Sherman asked, “What the hell happened?”
“They was waiting for us,” Paulson said. “Somebody tipped ’em off.”
Guy kept silent, letting the others vent their anger and frustration. He was just glad he was still in one piece, not blown apart by either lawmen’s or outlaws’ guns.
“How could that be?” Fenney asked. “We’re the ones that’re supposed to have the inside information.”
“Well, maybe ol’ Maxwell Banter made a big mistake,” Ned Paulson said. “I reckon this time his money didn’t buy nothing but trouble for us.”
“I told you I didn’t like that lawyer son of a bitch!” Fenney said in anger.
“Jess and Shorty and Willy is dead,” Sherman said.
“Are you sure about Jess and Shorty?” Paulson asked.
“Yeah,” Sherman replied. “I seen ’em under fire and when they was hit. They fell outta them bushes, like they was a coupla rag dolls.”
“What’re we gonna do now?” Guy asked nervously.
“We’re gonna head back to the ranch,” Paulson said. “Then I’m gonna go into Stavanger and have a talk with that damn lawyer.”
“Can I go with you, Ned?” Fenney asked.
