Ralph Compton Sixguns and Double Eagles (27 page)

Unseen, they managed to reach the water of the bay, and keeping near the shore under cover of reeds and undergrowth, took cover beneath the pier. Empty crept as near to the water as he could, seeking to remain out of sight. He growled deep in his throat, for some of Belton's men were walking along the drainage ditch. They paused for a moment, watching the dockworkers unload the ship. Finally they turned back the way they had come. The water beneath the pier was neck-deep, requiring Wes and El Lobo to cling to one of the pilings. Finally the activity above them ceased, as the last of the freight was brought from the ship to the dock.

“Them go,” said El Lobo.

“But we still have a problem,” Wes said. “We must haul ourselves out of here, bloody, muddy, and sopping wet, without attracting unwanted attention.”

Then they heard the clop-clop-clop of horses' hooves and the rattle of a wagon.

“Tarnation,” said Wes, “somebody's comin' for the freight.”

“Per‘ap we get help,” El Lobo said.

Wes said nothing, for the teams had been reined up and there was the sound of footsteps above. Suddenly there was a low, welcoming growl from Empty.

“Empty,” said a friendly voice, “what are you doing here?”

“Jim,” Wes said, unbelieving. “Jim McCall!”

McCall bellied down on the pier, looking over the edge.

“Jim,” said Wes desperately, “can you help us out of here? We've been wounded.”

“Let me get a rope,” McCall said.

Quickly he tied one end of a rope to the upper end of a piling. In the other end he tied a loop, which he dropped to Wes. Gratefully, Wes lay on the dock while McCall went to the rescue of El Lobo. Blood still oozed from the thigh and the calf of El Lobo's right leg. For the first time, Wes was able to examine his own wound, and it had continued to bleed.

“My God,” said McCall, “Both of you need a doctor.”

“I reckon we do,” Wes said, “but we're caught up in something that could get you killed. Vamoose.”

“You're outside the law, then.”

“No,” said Wes, “we're not outside the law, but that's all I can tell you.”

“Then I'm going to do what I can for you,” McCall said. “Here, let me help you into the wagon.”

The wagon proved to be a boxlike affair, with an enclosed back. Script lettering on its wooden side said BAY AREA RECEIVING AND STORAGE. Opening the back doors and letting the tailgate down, McCall helped Wes and El Lobo into the enclosed vehicle. He then raised the tailgate and closed the doors. Mounting the wagon box, he turned the team and clattered away.

“Where are you taking us?” Wes asked.

“Home,” said McCall. “Amanda can see to your wounds while I find a doc.”

“We're obliged,” Wes said, “but it could cost both of you your lives.”

“Maybe,” said McCall, “but I look out for my friends, and damn the consequences. Besides, Amanda would never forgive me if I failed you.”

“Where are you living?” Wes asked.

“Amanda wanted a house, so we rented one,” said McCall, “and since I was kind of at loose ends, I took this freight-hauling job until I could do better. We're saving our stake for something, and we're not quite sure what.”

McCall drove in behind a small house, where he reined up. Amanda was on the porch, a worried look on her face.

“Jim, is something wrong?”

“Yes,” said McCall, opening the wagon's rear doors and lowering the tailgate. “Wes and El Lobo have been shot. Help me get them into the house.”

Empty had followed the wagon, growling anxiously, but he became silent when he saw Amanda. They were in the presence of friends.

When the door to Sheriff Tom Rigger's office opened and Bryan Silver stepped inside, Rigger got hastily to his feet.

“Silver, you old cattle rustler,” Rigger said. “I see them northern winters finally got to you and you've come in search of a warmer climate.”

“Not exactly,” Silver said, “although it was snowing when I left.”

The two shook hands and Silver took a chair facing Rigger's desk.

“I haven't seen you since I left the Texas Rangers, near ten years ago,” said Rigger.

“I know,” Silver said. “Bodie West said you were somewhere in California, but I didn't expect to find you here.”

“After my wife died, I just got fiddle-footed,” said Rigger. “Got so my old bones took poorly to them blue northers that blowed in from the mountains, and I decided to find me a warmer place. But I still miss old Texas.”

“So do I,” Silver replied. “There's times when I feel like resigning my post, going back to Texas, and joining the Rangers. But I don't. There are always problems.”

“I reckon that gets us back to your reason for bein' here,” said Rigger. “What can I do for you?”

“I don't know that you can do anything, Tom,” Silver said, “but I have a bear by the tail. I can't turn it loose, and the longer I hang on, the worse the situation becomes.”

“Give it a try, then,” said Rigger, “and I'll help you if I can.”

“I can't tell you much,” Silver said, “because of the nature of the case. I can only say that we're trying to crack a conspiracy that is harmful to the nation. I have two men on the case, and I have reason to believe they're here in San Francisco. I know for a fact they are in extreme danger, and I'm here to lend what assistance I can.”

“You have no means of finding them, then,” said Rigger.

“No,” Silver said. “For obvious reasons, I couldn't stay in contact with them. I know this is a long shot, but have you had anything out or the ordinary happen within the last few days? Any killings?”

“No killings that I know of,” said Rigger, “but two nights ago there was a hell of a lot of gunfire near the bay. Almighty suspicious circumstances too.”

“Tell me about it,” Silver said, leaning forward in his chair. “It might be the very lead I'm looking for.”

“There's a big, flat-roofed warehouse that sets back from the water a ways, with no markings of any kind,” said Rigger. “A gent by the name of Otis Belton is head of it, and he's damned careful not to say anything he don't have to. All I know is that they claim to be in the import and export business.”

“That could involve just about anything,” Silver said.

“It could,” said Rigger. “Anyhow, night before last, near three o‘clock in the morning, there was shooting that sounded like a war goin' on. All the windows to this place have bars, and there's only two entrances, both behind the building. After complaints about the shooting, I rode down there and talked to Belton. He claimed his men drove away a couple of thieves, and wouldn't say nothin' else. From reports I've had, there must have been four or five men in there with rifles. There's portholes, head-high, along the backside of the place, each sufficient for a peephole and the muzzle of a Winchester.”

“Unusual for a business to station that many armed men inside,” Silver said, “unless their business is high risk and questionable.”

“My thoughts exactly,” said Rigger, “and I told Belton if there was another incident, with more shooting, I'd be there with a search warrant.”

“Good idea, if you could do it,” Silver said, “but there's no law against a man defending his place of business against robbers.”

“I know that,” said Rigger, “and Belton knows it, but I just wonder what's so almighty valuable that requires more than one man on watch?”

“Maybe it's in the best interests of the United States government that I find out,” Silver said. “I have a livery horse. Will you guide me?”

“Yes,” said Rigger, “but we won't go unnoticed.”

“No help for that,” Silver replied. “We'll ride past there and return another way. Once I know where it is, I won't involve you further.”

“I'd help you more, if I could,” said Rigger, “but you'll need a U.S. marshal.”

“I know who and where he is, when I need him,” Silver said. “If this is leadin' up to what I expect, you've been more help than you'll ever know.”

They rode south, along the bay, and their presence was soon noted by Pike, who was watching from one of the many saloons. But Pike didn't follow, for he had recognized one of the riders as Sheriff Rigger. Belton had ordered that under no circumstances was the lawman to be followed, lest his suspicions be further aroused. Pike settled down to wait, but the sheriff and his companion didn't return.

“There is something suspicious about this place,” Silver observed as he and Rigger rode past the building. “I see nothing to inspire thieves, unless they know or suspect what is goin' on inside.”

“When the time comes you can talk about it, I'd like to know what you discover,” said Rigger.

“I'll call on you again before I leave San Francisco,” Silver said. “It's not often a man gets the chance to talk to an old Texas pard so far from home.”

Rigger led Silver back a different way. Reaching his office, Rigger dismounted. Again he extended his hand, and Silver took it.

“Good luck, my friend,” said Rigger.
“Vaya
con
Dios.”

“Thanks, Tom,” Silver said.

 

In less than an hour, Jim McCall returned with a doctor. Having cleaned their wounds as best she could, Amanda had managed to get Wes and El Lobo into bed. Theirs was the back room at the end of the hall. Empty sat near the foot of the bed, eyeing the doctor with suspicion. The young doctor went about his business in a professional manner, without speaking a word. Only when he had finished dressing the wounds did he speak.

“I should have another look at them tomorrow. Here's a bottle of laudanum for pain. It should help them sleep through the worst of it.”

Jim McCall gave the doctor a double eagle, waiting until he had left the room. He then spoke to Amanda.

“After I've taken the doc back to his office, I'll have to get back to work. Don't allow anybody in.”

“I suppose you have no idea what this is all about,” Amanda said.

“No,” said McCall. “Wes told me only that they're not outside the law, and I believed him. The Winchester behind the front door is fully loaded. Don't be afraid to use it.”

With that, McCall was gone, leaving Amanda in the room with the two wounded men. In the silence there was only the sound of their ragged breathing, and a thump on the wooden floor, as Empty wagged his tail. Something in the hound's eyes touched Amanda, and she knelt, ruffling Empty's ears.

Leaving Sheriff Rigger, Bryan Silver stabled his livery horse and took a room in a small hotel not far from the bay. Shucking his hat, gunbelt, and boots, he stretched out on the bed, contemplating what he had learned. While it might avail him nothing, the more he considered it, the more likely it seemed that some clue had led Wes and El Lobo to the mysterious warehouse. Their contact with U.S. mints in New Orleans and Carson City had proven disastrous, and Silver considered it highly unlikely they would make a similar move in San Francisco. He waited until near dusk before making his move. He saddled his horse and rode toward the bay, turning south along the broad avenue. He reined up before one of the cafés, where he had supper. Leaving there, he kept as far to the side of the avenue as he could, for there was light streaming from the saloons. But Pike was watching, and the starlight was sufficient for him to spot the single rider. He left the saloon, mounted his horse, and followed. Silver reined up for just a moment, listening. He was still some distance from the warehouse, and he began looking for a side street where he might leave the avenue. He soon found one to his liking, for it was lined with giant oaks, leaving the street in deep shadow. Seizing an overhanging limb, Silver pulled himself up, allowing his horse to wander on without him. When the trailing rider was directly beneath him, Silver dropped, dragging the man from the saddle. They fought, only the sodden sound of their blows breaking the silence. Breaking loose, Silver's adversary drew his Colt, only to have Silver's fist connect solidly with his chin. He went down and lay still. Quickly, Silver went through his pockets. Drawing forth a handful of coins, he lighted a match. There among the eagles and double eagles was a coin bearing the sinister likeness of a dragon. With the lariat from the unconscious man's horse, Silver bound him hand and foot, gagging him with his own neckerchief. He then flung his captive belly-down over his saddle. Leading the horse, he went looking for his own mount. He found the animal cropping grass. When he had mounted, he rode back toward town, avoiding the well-lighted avenue along the bay. Sheriff Rigger was about to leave for the day when Silver reined up. Dismounting, he loosed the bonds on the legs of his now-conscious captive, forcing him to enter Rigger's office.

“What's this?” Rigger asked, surprised.

“This gent was trailing me,” said Silver, “and I have conclusive proof that he's part of a problem I mentioned to you. I want you to lock him up until tomorrow.”

“I can't hold him without charges,” Rigger said.

“I ain't done nothin‘,” said Pike, with a snarl. “I was mindin' my own business when he come down on me. You lock me up on his word, an' there'll be hell to pay.”

“I'll risk it,” Rigger said. “What's your name?”

“Pike,” said the captive, “an' I ain't tellin' you nothin' else. What are you chargin' me with?”

“Attempted murder,” Silver said.