The Watch Man 1, page 11
‘Damn you,’ Brisket breathed heavily through widened nostrils. Sweat was beading his brow and as Wade dropped to his knees he could tell that the gunman was smitten beyond recall and his lustful heart was full of desire for the flamboyant Lola.
Brisket cast a sidelong glance at Wade, ‘You stay there until I sort this bitch out. Make a move and I’ll put one in you.’
As he loomed across towards Lola, Wade’s fingers slid down to the skewer he kept hidden in his boot top.
‘Now then, Lola, time we stopped playing around,’ husked Brisket. ‘You know I want you, gal. I want you real bad.’
Lola backed away across the surface of the big bed, ‘Gotta catch me first, sucker.’
Brisket launched himself across the bed and caught hold of Lola’s bare ankle before she could move away.
‘See, I’m fast, girl,’ he grinned, dragging the reluctant woman towards him. ‘That’s how I got to be a top gun around here.’ He held the pistol under Lola’s chin and she met his gaze steadily. ‘Give it up, Lola. Someone who looks as good as you can’t ever play the nun,’ leered Brisket, his hungry eyes roving over Lola’s voluptuous figure. ‘It’ll be good, you’ll see. Come on, let’s do it.’
Behind him, Wade slowly rose to a crouch the long skewer held like a dagger before him. Lola glanced over Brisket’s shoulder and saw Wade’s steady advance.
‘Sure, baby,’ she breathed. ‘Why not? Just get that gun out of my face and give me a hot kiss.’
Lola tipped Brisket’s hat aside as their lips met and Wade rushed in.
He drove the skewer’s sharp steel point into the base of Brisket’s skull, driving as deep as he could with both hands. Brisket arched back, his mouth opening wide and eyes staring in shock as the narrow blade pierced deep into his brain. Lola kicked the shivering body away in disgust as she stared into Brisket’s reddening face, he made cawing noises and his tongue stuck out of his open mouth as the body tried to accommodate what was happening.
‘Damn, but that thing sure worked,’ she said.
‘Hmm, I’ll have to get me one of these made up,’ Wade agreed.
Coolly, he pushed his boot into the gunman’s shaking back and withdrew the bloody skewer, then he brushed the body aside and moved forward to take the pistol from Brisket’s outstretched hand. But the gunman’s whole body was wracked with a series of trembling shakes and before Wade could grasp the pistol, Brisket’s fist clenched hard and he pulled the trigger.
There was a boom and Lola shrieked as the hot lead shot into the lush pillows and banged a great hole in the wooden headboard behind her. Wade grabbed the gun and tore it away from the dying man’s fingers as a scattering of goose feathers flew into the air from the blasted pillow and fell like snowflakes around them.
‘That’s sure done it,’ he said. ‘They’ll be up here before long. Here show me your wrist.’
Before Lola could say anything, Wade had her by the arm and was pointing the pistol at the chain that held her. It took two shots but at last the chain buckled and fell apart and Lola yipped with pleasure at her freedom. She scrabbled across the bed and ducked down beside Brisket’s body and quickly began unfastening his gun belt.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Wade as she began to strap the belt around her waist.
‘Never told you what I did on the travelling show, did I?’ she grinned.
Wade frowned across the smoke and feather filled room at her, ‘What’s that?’
‘They had me pegged as Annie Oakley’s sister on the posters, I’m a sure shot, Wade. Can shoot the eye out of an ace card at fifty paces.’
‘That so?’ asked Wade doubtfully but was duly impressed as Lola half-cocked Brisket’s second gun and spun the revolver’s chamber checking the load with a professional air.
Behind them the smoldering pillow had burst into flame and the fire was climbing steadily up over the headboard.
‘We have to get out of here.’
‘You’ve got it,’ agreed Lola, springing to her feet. ‘Get down!’ she cried suddenly and fanned the hammer. The gun spat fire and Wade turned to see one of Kennedy’s gun-toting bodyguards face appearing over the top of the stairway. He did not stay there long as Lola’s bullet parted his eyebrows and sent him and his hat spinning out of sight.
‘Damn!’ gasped Wade in appreciation.
‘Let’s move,’ said Lola, starting for the stairway but the clump of boots sounded on the staircase and rough cries of curiosity came from the stairwell.
‘What you doing up there?’ bellowed a voice and Wade recognized Kennedy.
‘Come up here and find out,’ Lola called back.
‘Lola don’t be stupid,’ snarled Kennedy. ‘How the hell did you get a gun?’
‘Your buddy Brisket obliged,’ snapped Lola. ‘Come on up, Kennedy, I been wanting to pay you back and put a hole in your pecker for weeks.’
‘I got all my boys down here with me,’ called Kennedy. ‘There’s no way out.’
Wade was slipping cartridges from Lola’s gun belt and grimly feeding reloads into Brisket’s gun, his features were set and his brow lowered with determination. Now was the time. He had waited long and hard for this moment and as the room filled with smoke and fire around him it seemed that the vengeful flames that flared in his breast equaled the blazing room behind him.
Striding purposely through the smoke and leaving a curling trail behind him, Wade walked boldly across to the stairway.
Lola watched him go with open curiosity, ‘What you doing?’ she asked. ‘Get down, you fool.’
Ignoring her, Wade stood at the head of the stairs, a dark shape surrounded by whirling smoke and the glow of the fire behind.
Below him pale faces stared up in surprise.
Then Wade opened fire. The pistol bucked in his hand as he let loose shot after shot into the crowded stairway below. Lola quickly got over her surprise and rushed to join him, together they blasted the stunned crowd below.
The narrow corridor filled with tumbling bodies and the spray of blood as the volley of bullets ploughed into the gunmen sending them flying and rolling backwards down the stairway.
Wade stepped back and shed the empty shells, then without a word, he pulled Lola towards him and took more bullets from the belt at her waist.
‘Wow!’ gasped Lola. ‘You sure got some lead in your pencil, Wade Durance.’
‘Did we get Kennedy,’ growled Wade hastily, concentrating on his reload.
Lola peered down the now silent stairway, ‘Can’t see him.’
‘Then get out of my way,’ said Wade, keeping his pistol held high as he leapt for the stairs.
Lola managed a wild laugh as she followed, ‘Hot dog!’ she sniggered. Stopping only to collect another pistol from one of the fallen men.
Hopping over the dead and wounded, Wade blinded by rage, rushed down onto the landing.
‘Kennedy!’ he bawled. ‘Emmett Kennedy! I’m coming for you.’
Wade reached the casino landing to see Kennedy at the far end about to drop down the stairs and make his escape. He turned as Wade called out to him and cried, ‘Who the hell are you?’
Wade shot him without a word and Kennedy fell over backwards at the head of the stairs. Lying on his back, Kennedy managed to raise his hand and fire. Wade, full of vengeance, almost did not feel the strike as he marched on across the landing. The hit was somewhere in his waist and yet Wade ignored it, his eyes were full of the wounded Kennedy and the fact that he had at last tracked Justine’s killer down. Wade’s own bullet had struck Kennedy in the top right shoulder and he struggled to lift his pistol again as Wade remorselessly strode along the gallery corridor towards him.
‘Why?’ breathed Kennedy. ‘Why? What for?’
Wade placed his boot on Kennedy’s wrist and kept his pistol hand locked to the boards, ‘Wade Durance,’ he whispered. ‘Remember?’
Kennedy winced at the pain of his wound, ‘What the hell’s that mean? I don’t know you from the devil.’
‘I had a wife, Kennedy,’ Wade hissed between clenched teeth. ‘Name of Justine, a son and daughter and old mother until you and your men came by. Las Cruces, remember? You’re the last one left, you murdering scum. Easter, Crabby, Joel and Jane, they’re all gone. There’s just you and when you’re done my family can rest in peace, though God knows if I ever will.’
Kennedy stared up at him, his eyes working as they tried to place his attacker. Then they cleared and his features settled as he recalled. Kennedy lay on his back, his arm trapped by Wade’s boot and he stared up at Wade with a twisted sneer playing on his lips.
‘Oh, I remember now. Yeah, she was real good,’ he wrinkled his nose and leered. ‘She squealed a bit but by God we worked her over, we surely did.’
A low pitiful whine of grief emitted from Wade’s lips as he cocked the pistol held down by his side.
‘Let me,’ said Lola over his shoulder. ‘Let me do it.’
‘You too!’ spat Kennedy. ‘You lousy two-bit slut. Come on then, do your worst the pair of you, I ain’t a-feared of peckerwoods like you. Go on, do it!’
Wade raised his pistol but Kennedy struck with his free hand and caught Wade a heavy blow in the groin. Wade doubled over at the sickening pain and Lola tried to brush him aside as she leveled her gun at Kennedy. But Kennedy lashed out with his booted foot and crashed down the heel on Lola’s bare toes. Lola shrieked and her gun went off to only raise splinters from the boards alongside Kennedy’s body. Quickly he scrabbled to his feet and an agonized Wade lunged forward and shoulder charged the outlaw sending him flying back.
Kennedy tried to lift his gun hand but his wounded shoulder made it hard going. Before he could haul off a shot, Wade spun out his pistol and caught Kennedy a savage blow across the jaw with the barrel. Kennedy’s head spun away, a streak of blood flying from between his lips.
‘Damn you to hell,’ snarled Wade, forsaking bullets and lashing at Kennedy mercilessly. Blow after blow racketed off Kennedy’s head and he began to sag where he stood his swollen face a mess of blood and bruising.
‘This is how it feels,’ snarled Wade, digging the gun barrel sharply into Kennedy’s shoulder wound so the outlaw bawled out and dropped his weapon. He stood there wavering on his feet as Wade shed his pistol and took hold of Kennedy’s lapels with both hands.
Wade pulled him close so that stared into each other’s faces. Kennedy saw only a hellish gleaming burn in Wade’s dark eyes and Wade saw only a skull’s head of death in Kennedy’s. With a strength fueled by rage and vengeance Wade lifted Kennedy bodily and tossed him clean over the bannister rail.
With arms flung wide and an open look of surprise on his beaten face Kennedy sailed down through the three floors. When he struck the bar top in the saloon below it was with the sound of tall timber snapping as his back broke across the edge of the hardwood counter.
Wade turned away breathing heavily and found Lola staring at him, ‘How the hell you do that? He shot you I saw it.’
Wade felt for the wound at his side and all he could discover under the bullet hole tear in his jacket was tiny pieces, splinters and broken parts. He tugged out the watch chain and dangled the dented and buckled remains of José Luis’ gift to him.
‘Damn!’ Wade cursed. ‘Look at that, he busted my watch.’
‘Better that than your ticker,’ quipped Lola.
Wade pulled a face and twisted his lip ruefully, ‘I’m going to have to fix that.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘Santa Fe! Next stop Santa Fe,’ called the conductor as he ambled down the corridor between the carriage seats. ‘Everybody for Santa Fe, passengers for San Domingo and Albuquerque sit tight.’
Tiredly, Wade rubbed his eyes against the bright sunlight and stretched his arms. His hand strayed to the watch in his waistcoat pocket and he rubbed his finger across the surface. It was still dented even though he had done his best to repair the surface but the insides he found he could do nothing with, they were completely smashed by Kennedy’s bullet. It was either a complete remake or, on consideration, perhaps the watch could serve some other purpose than time telling and so he had filled it with hot lead. The watch could no longer tell him the hours of the day but if used correctly it could certainly now stop somebody else’s clock, he was sure of that.
Wade set his Derby on his head and straightened his tie, and then he reached up to collect his sack from the rack above as the train chuffed up the branch line into the Santa Fe Depot.
Not a bad journey, all in all, he considered as he stepped down from the carriage, a real trip down memory lane. He wondered, in passing, what had happened to the sharpshooting and wayward Lola Mayne after their shootout. He guessed she probably went back to her old ways on the stage, popping cigarettes from poser’s mouths with a single bullet or shooting out dollar pieces over her shoulder using a mirror. Lola had been a fine piece of work all right. But she had disappeared soon enough. Once Kennedy was dead the locals had rushed in and invaded his office and private room like hungry wolves looking for his cash but Lola had known where the money was stashed in the upstairs room and she had been first in line at the trough. Taking her pile she had vanished like smoke, never taking her leave of Wade or saying a word to her intentions.
If she lived she would be older now and Wade wondered if she still held her sassy air of seduction and good looks. He guessed it was probably so, Lola was a survivor.
‘You got a decent hotel here?’ Wade asked a railroad clerk at the station ticket office.
‘Head that way,’ pointed the man. ‘Try La Fonda down by the Plaza, ain’t seen ‘em myself but they got them new Harvey Girl waitresses in there and they say they’re real dandy.’
Wade found the Santa Fe Plaza was hedged in by buildings from the Spanish colonial days but its center proved to be a no more prepossessing sight than a fenced area of dirt with a field of alfalfa growing. Around the edges of this unlikely center the square was crowded with busy folk moving like a river under the sunlight. Mostly they were Mexicans, women from the pump carrying water pots on their heads, delivery boys with baskets of bread, well dressed men in wide brimmed hats smoking stogies and jawing together, children touting sweetmeats running through a crowd of wandering colored troops from the local garrison.
Wade was hoping for a quiet night away from the more festive hustle of the Plaza and chose the lesser-known Herlow’s Hotel on San Francisco Street for a night’s rest. He settled in and almost right away slept long and deeply after his trip.
Wade was awoken next morning by the loud noise of a military brass band playing outside his window. A long troop of colored cavalry were enjoying a march past behind the band in the street below, they were followed by a mule driven train of support wagons. Wade had no idea of the occasion but he was glad of the wake-up call to drag him from his bed as he had a long ride ahead of him. He took his breakfast and settled up with the owner before finding a livery stable and hiring a horse.
‘Which way to a place called Canton?’ he asked the stable hand.
‘Travel due west and south until you come to a little place called Medicine Lodge, Canton’s somewheres around there, I ain’t too sure ‘xactly but a few miles further on I do believe.’
‘That would be rough country?’
The stable hand nodded, ‘Rough in every sense of the word.’
Wade tipped his hat in thanks and rode on.
Not many miles out from Santa Fe, Wade caught up with the military column of Buffalo Soldiers and Wade was pulled over by their officer, a Lieutenant and his colored Master Sergeant.
‘Good day, sir. Lieutenant Fairweather,’ the officer introduced himself with a salute. He was a clean-cut looking young white officer with curly bronze hair and a uniform buttoned up tight to the neck. His troop, Wade noted, were all reasonably well turned out, if a little dusty and torn on the uniform front but they all looked as if they had seen some time in service and were ready for action. ‘May I ask where you are bound?’
‘Heading for a place called Canton,’ Wade answered.
‘You have business there?’
‘I do.’
‘Well, best be advised we are on the hunt for an Apache band under their war chief, Pacoté. Fellow’s on the loose and creating raiding havoc. Three settlements destroyed, the menfolk killed and women and children carried off along with the livestock.’
‘That so,’ said Wade. ‘I’ll take care then.’
‘Might I suggest you join our column, sir? We’re heading in that general direction and going on to the settlements at Pan Handle and Washburn, you’ll be safer with us until then, I believe.’
Wade mused a moment and thought it made sense so he nodded agreement.
‘To the rear then with the wagons, Sergeant Goody will guide you. See to it will you, Sergeant?’
‘Yes suh,’ grunted the Sergeant, a large bluff man wearing a dark beard on his chin and a battered campaign kepi on his head.
Wade nodded, ‘Thanks, Lieutenant. My name’s Wade Durance, by the way.’
‘Very well, Mister Durance. It’ll be a rough ride as I’m determined to catch this rascal, so try and keep up.’
Abruptly, Fairweather turned his horse and rode back to the head of the column. With a wave he urged the troop on again.
‘This way if you will, suh,’ said Goody, leading the way to the rear along the line of horse soldiers.
There were some catcalls and ribald joking as they passed the men.
‘We takin’ home some lost sheep now, Sarge?’ called a loud voice from somewhere in the column.
Goody growled ominously, ‘Watch yo’ mouth, fool,’ he barked.
Another call broke from the ranks, high pitched and feminine, ‘Oo-ee! Ah’m so a-feared o’ them Injuns I feel as pale and wan as that po’ white man there.’
Goody could not refrain from creasing a tight grin, ‘Sorry, suh,’ he grunted to Wade. ‘They don’t mean no harm. Just they’s feeling sassy as they’s off to the fight.’
