Outlaw's Reckoning Page 5

  “So?”

  “So the folks on that stage will have told the law by now and a posse could be on its way to this very station.”

  “And if they already figured we’d be laying a false trail, this’d be the last thing anyone would expect.”

  Judging by the look on Gus’s face, he was not amused.

  “Look, I trust you to sniff out a posse from ten miles away,” Doyle said. “I ain’t so bad at it either. I also got a good nose for sniffing out a good opportunity when I find one and this is it.”

  “Why the hell do you want to deal with these kidnappers, anyway? You know I can’t abide kidnappers.”

  “That’s mighty righteous talk coming from a known thief and killer,” Doyle pointed out.

  “Stealing is one thing. I stole plenty and I’m damn good at it. I’ve killed plenty too, but only when I had to and I never killed a man for money. Assassins are cowards who earn their keep by shooting folks in the back and kidnappers ain’t much better. Come to think of it,” Gus added as his face twisted into one of his uglier scowls, “this whole thing don’t set right with me at all.”

  “Before you get yourself in a twist, I can tell you for certain that Mason shakes in his boots every time he looks at you. I think it’s got to do with that ugly face of yours.”

  Gus still wasn’t amused, but he wasn’t as serious as he’d been a moment ago.

  Doyle leaned against the wall next to his partner and crossed his arms over his chest. “Since he’s scared, he’ll do whatever he can to get away from us in one piece. And since he’s a kidnapper, he won’t go to the law. Since he’s close enough to smell this deal of his, he won’t want to do anything to spoil it. All of that means he’ll want to do whatever he can to get in our good graces as quickly as possible. At the very least, I figure he’ll offer to pay us off just to part ways.”

  “And what’s the worst you figure might happen?” Gus asked.

  “That we’ll be forced to shoot our way out of this station once that dandy’s associates arrive. If that happens, I intend on getting everything I can from the pockets of all them fancy suits before we head north. If this kidnapping is half as big as Mason claims, the law will be too busy sifting through them kidnappers instead of worrying about us.”

  It was a sloppy plan, but Gus didn’t expect much more from Doyle. Oddly enough, Doyle had a knack for getting sloppy plans to work in his favor. Most folks, and especially lawmen, expected there to be a rhyme or reason behind a robbery or a killing. Folks looked for why someone got shot or what made gunmen do what they did, just to be plain stumped when faced with the likes of Doyle Hill. Trying to figure him out was like trying to guess which way the wind was about to blow. Besides, turning back now would mean everything up to this point was a stupid waste of time. Gus knew better than anybody that time was not something to be wasted. Since that case only had some frilly things in it, Gus intended on turning that into some sort of profit.

  More than that, Gus truly couldn’t abide kidnappers. They were all yellow-back shooters and the thought of robbing them seemed mighty nice.

  “Maybe,” Doyle added in a low voice, “we won’t even need them fellas at all.”

  Looking over to his partner, Gus could almost hear the gears turning inside of Doyle’s head. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

  Doyle smirked and nodded toward the train that had come to a stop and was steaming from its pistons and whistling like a banshee. “Maybe we could get an introduction to them associates of Mason’s and have a talk with them.”

  “If you think I’ll meet with them on their own ground where they can get the jump on us or put a bullet through the backs of our heads, then you’ve got another think coming.”

  “I ain’t talking about that. I bet we could at least get them thinking it’s worth their while to pay us to walk away from their little meeting before our partners burn them all down.”

  “You and those damn partners. That’s a shaky bluff during a robbery and I doubt it’ll hold water now.”

  “It doesn’t need to hold up for long. Just long enough for them to fork over some money to cover our traveling expenses. If these fellas are anything like Mason, they’ll be willing to part with some cash to keep them out of a fight. At the very least, we can try to add a few dollars to whatever scraps Mason’s willing to throw at us to pay for his own worthless life.”

  As much as he tried to keep his stern expression in place, Gus felt a smirk crack through it all. “You want to hold kidnappers hostage? Is that supposed to be a real plan or are you just trying to think of new ways to get us shot?”

  “I never try to get us shot. That just sort of happens all on its own.”

  “All right.” Gus sighed. “I’ll make you a wager. If Mason doesn’t bolt at the first sight of his friends and tell them to gun us down on the spot, I’ll let you see what you can talk them in to.”

  “How long does he have to hold out?”

  “At least until they’re meant to head out of this station.”

  “They gotta wait that long before taking a shot at us?” Doyle asked. Despite all the years Gus had known him, it was still hard to tell whether or not he was kidding. “And what happens if I lose the wager?”

  “Then you pay for drinks until we cross the border into Canada. That is, if we get out of this place without getting shot full of holes.”

  Doyle stuck out his hand. “Done. If kidnappers were any good with guns, they wouldn’t need to sneak up on women in a pack. And since you can’t handle more than a few sips of whiskey at a time, losing this bet shouldn’t take too much out of me.”

  Before Gus could try to defend himself, Mason waved at him. “Looks like your new friend has found the men he was looking for.”

  Doyle took his time in looking over there. When he finally acknowledged Mason’s wave, the other man seemed ready to jump out of his fancy suit. “You still got that backup thirty-eight?”

  “Sure do,” Gus said.

  “Then keep it where it can’t be seen. I’ll do the same for one of my forty-fives.”

  “I know how to handle myself.”

  “Just try not to embarrass me.” As he said that, Doyle swatted Gus’s arm and started walking toward the platform.

  Gus followed his partner’s lead and watched as a group of three men emerged from the train amid a trickle of other travelers. The three stood out from the crowd already, since they were dressed in suits that looked like they were worth more than any of the other passengers could afford. What set them apart even more for Gus was the fact that all those fancy suits looked like they’d come from the same mold as Mason’s finery.

  One of the three wore spectacles that were barely large enough to cover his eyes. A shade of a smile crossed his face when he saw Mason, but that faded quickly enough when Gus and Doyle approached the group. Not only were the other two new arrivals not smiling, but they reached for the gun belts strapped around their waists under their tailored black coats.

  “It’s all right,” Mason said as he motioned toward Gus and Doyle. “These two are with me.”

  “Who are they?” the man with the spectacles asked.

  “It’s a long story and I’ll be happy to tell it. Just . . . not here. Where did you intend to discuss our business?”

  The eyes behind the man’s spectacles darted back and forth between Gus and Doyle and his mouth became a tight line. When he spoke, his lips barely parted enough to let the words out. “The train’s not due to leave for half an hour. We’ll have the whole dining car to ourselves.”

  “Sounds fine.”

  “You never answered my question.”

  Chuckling nervously, Mason said, “Mr. Smythe, this is Gus and Doyle.”

  Gus and Doyle tipped their hats when their names were mentioned.

  “Gus and Doyle,” Mason said as he pointed toward the bespectacled man, “this is Mr. Smythe.” Indicating the remaining pair of well-dressed gentlemen, he said, “Mr. Wade and Mr. F
ranklin.”

  Although both of the other two were singled out, Gus could still hardly tell them apart. As far as he was concerned, Wade was the man carrying the Colt Navy and Franklin was the man with the brand-new Smith & Wesson at his hip. If either of those dandies moved in a way Gus didn’t like, they’d both just be plain dead.

  There weren’t many folks getting off of the train, but the three men in the new suits pushed through them as though they were fighting through a crowd. Smythe led the way to the sleeper car and then pulled open the door to the first compartment. Inside, the bunks on either wall were folded up and hooked in place, which left space for two chairs set on either side of a small table. A man sat at that table playing a quiet game of solitaire. Before they could step inside, Gus and Doyle were stopped by Mr. Wade.

  “Just wait here a moment,” Wade said.

  Franklin stepped over to form a wall between Gus, Doyle and the compartment. Both men placed their hands upon the grips of their holstered weapons.

  “Where’s the case?” Smythe asked. After Gus handed it over, Smythe passed it along to the man in the sleeper compartment. “Have a look inside to make sure everything’s there.”

  “It’s there,” Mason said. “I didn’t go anywhere after she was moved besides directly to the—” He was cut short by a quick, searing look from Smythe.

  “I don’t know what’s going on here or who these two are,” Smythe snapped. “Until I get my explanation, you’ll humor me.”

  Mason nodded obediently and stepped back.

  Gus placed the man who took the case as somewhere in his late forties or early fifties. He didn’t seem rattled by anything going on and he didn’t try to step in on anyone’s side. He just took the case, set it on top of the cards and opened it so he could get to work. After a brief look inside, he said, “You men can go on and work things out. I’ll need to examine this a bit closer.”

  Smythe stepped back and shut the door. “Dining car’s this way,” he said as he continued walking down the aisle that led past all the other compartments. He didn’t look back to see if the others were with him. Smythe simply led the way as if the rest of the men had no other choice but to follow in his wake.

  When they crossed over to the next car, Mr. Wade once more stopped Gus and Doyle. “I’m gonna have to take your guns,” he said.

  Doyle stepped right up to the man and stared him in the eyes. “The hell you will.”

  “You won’t step foot inside unless I do.”

  Doyle put on a good show as he reluctantly handed over one of his two .45s and Gus handed over his Colt. Wade took the guns while Franklin covered him. After that, they let the two outlaws into the compartment and then took positions on either side of the door. When the compartment door shut, Gus was reminded of a coffin lid dropping.

  “So who are these men?” Smythe asked as he sat down at one of the empty tables. “And why are they here?”

  Mason sat down at the table across from Smythe, while Gus and Doyle remained standing beside it like hired help. “I met these fellows on the stagecoach. Actually, they robbed the stagecoach.”

  As anyone would expect, that news ruffled the feathers of all the men in suits.

  “As you can see,” Mason quickly added, “they haven’t done me any harm.”

  “What about the case?” Smythe asked.

  “It’s intact, I assure you. As for why these men are here, I believe they could be of some use to us. They have a knack for thinking on their feet and they are quick with a gun. I was thinking they might do well as guards when the final transaction takes place.”

  “So they already know about our business?”

  That question caused Mason to squirm more than when he’d been Gus and Doyle’s prisoner. “They do.”

  “Since we’re all on the same side of the fence,” Doyle cut in, “we can just all talk plain. You’re talking about swapping money for this rich lady you’re holding, right?”

  Smythe shifted his eyes toward Doyle, but hardly seemed to acknowledge his existence. “That’s correct.”

  Doyle nodded and said, “Fine. Sounds to me like you’re worried the law might already be on to you.”

  “Correct again.”

  “Then we’re your men. Me and Gus have been making the law chase their own tails for years. You men seem to have a good operation here and all them fancy suits tell me you’re well funded. Me and Gus will accept a modest fee to scout ahead and find any law dogs sniffing for you. If we find some, we’ll give them something else to do for a bit. If we don’t find any, you can pick a spot where you want a distraction and we’ll be sure to make one for you. That’d be handy at the right time, now wouldn’t it?”

  Smythe listened with an occasional nod and not much else. “We do have a good operation. That’s why we don’t need the likes of you mucking it up.”

  “Then perhaps a finder’s fee for returning your case and your little partner there,” Doyle snarled. “It’s just a neighborly thing to do, especially since our partners don’t take kindly to dandies like you wasting our time for free. They’re probably getting aggravated right now, and when they get aggravated, their trigger fingers get itchy.”

  The grin that slipped onto Smythe’s face was the sort of thing that might be found on a lizard. “If you had such valuable partners lurking about with guns drawn, I’m sure we would have been introduced to them by now.” Although Doyle didn’t flinch, Smythe obviously knew he’d put him in his place. “Perhaps a distraction might be useful. Let’s think about it after I’m done talking to Mr. Mason. That’s the best I can do for now.”

  “That’s all I ask,” Doyle said.

  “Until then, you’ll stay where we can see you, and if you step out of line in the slightest, we’ll make you sorry you picked that particular stage to rob.” Without waiting to see what Doyle had to say to that, Smythe picked up a case similar to the one Mason had been guarding and opened it. When he spoke, it was to Mason. Smythe ignored everyone else in the dining car as if they’d been swept out a window. “Now here’s what we’ve received from our associates in charge of watching over our female guest. I have it on good authority that these items will remove any doubt that may still be lingering in Thomas Swann’s mind.”

  The items Smythe offered to Mason were more personal than the ones Gus had already seen. His good eye was probably keen enough to see more than both of Mason’s. The first item was a pearl-encrusted comb that was meant to hold back a rich woman’s hair. In fact, there were still strands of hair snagged within the teeth of the comb that dangled like thin tendrils of gold. By Gus’s estimation, the comb had to be worth a pretty penny and he would have claimed it for himself if he’d been robbing the lady who’d previously worn it.

  The second thing Smythe handed over to Mason was a ring. This caught Gus’s eye and held every last bit of his attention. Gus had always had a good sense for jewelry. When it came to jewelry, Doyle would grab anything that sparkled whether it was worth something or not. Gus, on the other hand, had a knack for telling fool’s gold from the genuine article. He could tell real diamonds from glass by the way they caught the light. He wasn’t accurate every time, but he was close enough to be trusted by every gang he’d ridden with. Sometimes, the pieces that Gus could spot on a lady’s finger or around her neck were worth more than the amount they’d stolen from whatever they happened to be robbing at the time.

  But it wasn’t the diamonds or gold in this particular ring that struck Gus the most. What he saw were nicks in the ring’s band. There were flecks marring some of the gems. The overall shape of the ring was bent and distorted.

  “Can I see that?” Gus asked.

  Everyone in the compartment but Doyle gawked at him.

  “I didn’t think you could talk,” Smythe mused.

  “Oh, he can talk,” Doyle said. “He can also sniff out trinkets like that in his sleep. Even when ladies try to hide their valuables, Gus can find ’em right quick.”

  “We already kno
w these items’ worth,” Smythe protested.

  Gus didn’t move toward the ring. Instead, he stared at Smythe so the bespectacled man could get a real good look at his bad eye. Gus even let his mouth hang open just enough to display the gaping hole where several of his teeth had once been. When most folks saw him as a wounded old dog, they often figured Gus was as stupid as he was ugly. So far, this didn’t seem to be an exception.

  Holding on to the ring tightly, Smythe extended his hand and smiled as if he was grinning at a curious child. “Go on and have a look. It’s not in the best shape, but it came off of our girl and her family will know it. This, combined with everything else we’ve got, should convince the family we have her. Pretty, isn’t it?”

  The ring was anything but pretty. Gus was able to get a bit closer to it, but Franklin stopped him before he could get within arm’s length. Even so, that was close enough for Gus to see what he was after.

  The flecks upon the ring were dried blood. Gus had seen enough of it to know that much for certain. The nicks in the side of the ring had to have been made by a knife or some sort of blade. They were too clean to be simple wear and were too deep to have been put there by anything blunt. Those things, combined with the squashed oval shape of the ring itself, were more than enough to make something very clear.

  That ring had been taken by force.

  It had probably been ripped, cut and finally yanked off of its owner after plenty of blood had been spilled and plenty of fighting had been done. If the ring had been taken any other way, it would be in much better condition. Gus could only imagine how that woman had fought to keep from parting with it. No lady liked to part with her sparkling possessions, but they tended to give them up before they got beaten to a bloody pulp. The owner of that ring had fought like hell to keep her kidnappers from getting to it. Either that or it fit so snugly that her finger may have been damn near ripped off for it to come loose. Whichever it was, Gus didn’t like it.