Ralph Compton Whiskey River (13 page)

“The way all this is stacking up,” said Long, “we'll have to make our move on the return trip from St. Louis.”

“You may be right,” Mark said. “When Bill and me were first lured into comin' after Estrello's outfit, not too much was said about the bunch in St. Louis that Estrello's dealing with. Now that we're neck-deep in the situation, it looks like these steamboat crews and their owners may be as troublesome as Estrello's bunch.”

“I think we'd better spend our time thinkin' of some way to save our own hides,” said Clemans. “These steamboat crews don't trust
any
of Estrello's outfit, including us. There are eight of us against Estrello's twenty-six men. Add the gun-totin' captains and their crews to that, and we'll have more than forty men against us in a showdown.”

“I've been considering that,” Stackler said. “I think, before these steamboats return to Fort Smith, some of us will be forced to jump ship. Mark, while I appreciate the agreement you and Bill had with the military at Fort Worth, there's no way eight of us can go up against forty gunmen and come out of it alive.”

“Don't forget Betsy and me,” said Amanda. “We have rifles, and we can shoot.”

“Bless both of you,” Mark said, “but the odds are still too high.”

“I hate to mention this,” Keithley said, “since we have problems enough, but why didn't Estrello assign two or three of us to each steamboat? I think he wants us to plan some kind of rebellion. All of us have opposed him in one way or another, and when he's ready to dispose of those steamboat crews, he aims for us to die along with them.”

“I'm considering that. too,” said Stackler, “and it's looking more and more like it's what Estrello's planning to do. Let's face it. There are wanted dodgers on us all, except for Betsy and Amanda. Suppose all of us and all the steamboat crews die in a shootout? It will leave behind enough evidence and dead men to convince the law there's been a falling-out among thieves and killers.”

“But there won't be any of the whiskey,” Ursino said. “Estrello wins the pot.”

“We can't let him do it,” Betsy cried.

“There's a way out,” said Bill. “There's always a way out. We just have to find it.”

 

The second day there was unexpected trouble on the
Star
, the fourth steamboat.

“Mark,” Amanda said. “I need to go down to the lower deck. Do you suppose it will be safe in daylight? I hate taking down my Levi's among this many men, even if they're all mostly our friends.”

“I'll go with you,” said Mark. “I'll wait near the ladder and head off any of the men who might not know you're there.”

The way seemed clear, for there was nobody in sight on the lower deck. Near the improvised “outhouse” were some horses and mules, and they looked curiously at Amanda. She had been there only a few seconds when from the corner of her eye she caught some movement among the mules.

Suggs stepped out into the open, an evil grin on his scarred face. “Well now, girlie,” said Suggs, “I've always wanted a better look at you. Leave them britches down around your boot tops and stand up.”

Amanda sat there in horrified silence. and from behind Suggs, Mark spoke.

“Suggs, you low-down skunk, you don't know how much I'd like to kill you where you stand. Get the hell out of here while you still can.”

Suggs laughed. “I got as much right down here as she has. I'm waitin' my turn.”

It was too much. Mark took a step forward, and his right fist cracked against Suggs's chin. The outlaw was flung back among the horses and mules and, frightened, they started a commotion. Suggs, attempting to use some of the animals for cover, went for his gun.

But Mark had been expecting that. He rolled under one of the mules, seizing Suggs by his legs and slamming him to the floor. Suggs's Colt roared, further disturbing the captive livestock. Seizing the front o
f
Suggs's shirt in his left hand, Mark hauled him to his feet and hit him again. He went down and didn't get up. But there was more trouble. Captain Jenks stood in the narrow corridor, a cocked Colt in his hand.

“Mister, tell me what happened here, and it had better be good.”

Mark quickly explained, as Amanda—with white face and shaking hands—stood beside him. Suggs finally sat up, rubbing his jaw. Stackler, Keithley, Clemans, and Ursino stood in the narrow corridor behind Captain Jenks, but he ignored them. He spoke to Suggs.

“The ladies have priority down here, and the right to privacy. If I ever again catch you involved in such a shameful affair on my steamboat, I'll kill you.”

Suggs got to his knees and finally his feet, staggering a little. He laughed, and then he spoke to Captain Jenks. “I aim to see that Wolf Estrello knows about this, big man. Next time, you may not have the gun.”

“Be sure you tell Estrello,” Captain Jenks said, “and if there is a next time, it may be you lacking a gun. One of you men find his pistol and turn it in to me. Maybe he'll get it back, and maybe he won't.”

Irvin had come down the ladder to see what had caused the disturbance, and he was just in time to hear Captain Jenks demand Suggs's Colt. Irvin said nothing, climbing up the iron-runged ladder to the upper deck.

The rest of the day, Irvin and Suggs kept to themselves.

“From now on,” Mark said, “they'll be looking for some excuse to come down on us.”

“Let them,” said Bill. “If there's trouble between them and Captain Jenks, my money's on the captain.”

Near sundown, the steamboats again drew up alongside a crude landing, where the firemen began loading more wood for fuel. Irvin and Suggs made their way down the ramp to the riverbank. From there they walked to the first boat, the Aztec. On deck, Estrello saw them coming and went to meet them before they boarded the craft. If there was trouble, he had no desire for the rest of the outlaws to become aware of it.

“What the hell are you two doin' here?” Estrello demanded. “Trouble aboard?”

“You might say that,” said the surly Suggs. “Your snooty captain threatened to kill me, and he took my Colt.”

“All for no reason, I suppose,” Estrello said.

“Aw, hell,” said Irvin, “he run into one of them females on the second deck.”

“You invaded her privacy, then,” Estrello said.

“Yeah,” said Suggs. “You could say that. So what? That bastard ain't talkin' down to me like I'm nobody. He's captain of a steamboat, not God.”

“Whatever
you
think of him makes no difference,” Estrello said angrily. “He
is
captain of the steamboat, and if either of you create any more disturbance aboard that boat, you won't have to concern yourselves with the captain. I'll come after you myself. Now get the hell aboard and stay there.”

Irvin and Suggs said nothing, but started back toward the
Star.

Stackler laughed, for he and his comrades had seen the confrontation.

“I'd of give five hundred dollars to have heard what Estrello told them,” said Keithley.

“They didn't much like it,” Mark said. “Look at their faces. They're killing mad. Maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

The Barton gang, who had attacked Wolf Estrello's outfit, had suffered a great loss, for eleven of their number—one of whom was Frank Barton himself—had been killed. Near the landing where Estrello's wagons had boarded the steamboats, what remained of the Barton gang sat in silence, drinking coffee, including Liz, Barton's redheaded, short-tempered wife, with whom he had constantly fought.

“Damn it,” said Green Perryman, “we might as well call it quits. There ain't enough of us for a gang.”

“We're not giving up,” snapped Liz Barton. “Attacking Estrello, trying to kill his men, was a foolish move. It was Frank's idea, and he paid for it.”

“And took ten men with him,” Will Macklin said. “I've enjoyed all the Barton luck I can stand.”

“Don't be so quick to run,” said Liz in a more soothing tone. “We'll add some more riders, and when Estrello returns with the whiskey, we'll be ready.”

“Ready for what?” Hez DeShea asked. “Some more buryings?”

“Don't get sarcastic with me,” snarled Liz. “Frank Barton was a fool. I did everything except shoot him, trying to prevent that attack on Estrello, but the rest of you went along like sheep. Where the hell were you when it counted?”

“I reckon you got us there.” said French Loe. “We thought Frank knowed what he was doing. Hell, we had the edge.”

“Eleven men died,” Liz said. “You call
that
an edge?”

She was right, and it silenced them. The looks on their faces suggested they might just saddle up and ride away. Liz tried again, more tactful this time.

“From now on, we'll make no moves until everybody agrees,” said Liz. “I won't ask or expect anything foolish of you, like Frank did.”

“You?” Tobe Havre said. “Why, you're just a . . . a . . .”

“A woman,” Liz said, “but I can out-draw and out-shoot any one of you. I was there in the midst of a stupid attack that cost us eleven men, doing my part.”

“Then I reckon it's safe for me to say I disagreed with some of Frank's ideas,” Sterns said. “He had a mad on for Wolf Estrello, and what would it have gained us if we'd killed a few of his men? The damn territory's full of outlaws.”

“That's what I asked him, after he made the decision to strike,” said Liz. “From now on, we don't concern ourselves with anything that doesn't pay. Now who's going to throw in with me?”

“I like the way you talk,” Sterns said. “I'll stay a while.”

“Count me in,” said DeShea.

“I like the idea of us all agreein'.” Loe said. “I'll ride with you.”

“That goes for me, too,” said Lefty Paschal.

Whit Sumner, Will Macklin, Tobe Harve, and Green Perryman voted to stay.

“That's more like it,” Liz said. “Now we have to come up with a solid plan to take the whiskey from Estrello's outfit without a face-to-face gunfight.”

“We have maybe eight or nine days,” said Sumner, “if this trip takes them as long as the others. How many more men are you wantin'?”

“Since we're going up against Estrello's bunch,” Liz said, “we could use twenty more. I am open to suggestions. Do any of you know where we might find these men in the time that we have?”

“If you don't have any objection to working with Indians, I can get you two hundred,” said Loe. “We could pay them in whiskey.”

“I don't like the sound of that,” Sumner said. “It's got double cross wrote all over it. Them Indians—Comanche and Kiowa—trade with Estrello. They know what them wagonloads of whiskey's worth when they reach the Territory.”

“I don't want nothin' to do with renegade Indians,” said Macklin. “I purely don't trust the varmints. Maybe they'd help us slaughter Estrello's bunch, but after they're done with that, what's to keep 'em from turning on us?”

“French,” Liz Barton said, “we're obliged for the suggestion, but we can't depend on a bunch of renegade Indians. Like Will said, even if they joined us and we took that load of whiskey from Estrello, the renegades might turn on us. We'll have to come up with something better.”

“Nothin' to do, then, but ride back into the Territory and ask around,” Harve said, “but who's going?”

“I suppose that's up to me,” said Liz.

“Nobody—especially a woman—rides into Indian Territory alone,” Loe said. “You'd better take us all with you.”

“No,” said Liz. “Too many riders, and they have the look of a posse. Lefty, you ride with me, and the rest of you wait here. We don't have much time.”

Lefty Paschal saddled a horse for Liz and one for himself. They mounted and started out eastward, toward Indian Territory.

“Well,” said Lefty, “now that old Frank's cashed in his chips, you and me don't have to slip around, do we?”

“Frank being gone doesn't have a damn thing to do with whether or not I see you,” Liz said angrily. “You have the same problem as all men. A few rolls in the hay, and you think you own me.”

“Well, hell,” said Lefty, “if my claim on you ain't no stronger than that, maybe I'll just ride back and join the rest of the boys. Then you can go huntin' grizzly bears with a switch if it suits your fancy.”

“Damn you.” Liz said, “I chose you to go with me, and you're going. Whether or not you share my blankets is my decision, not yours. Now let's ride.”

Lefty Paschal said no more. He realized, although they had slipped around behind her dead husband's back, that he really didn't
know
Liz Barton. Her Colt revolver was tied low on her right hip, and he knew for a fact she could pull iron and shoot like hell wouldn't have it. For the first time, Paschal saw her as more dangerous than Frank had ever been. Nothing more was said until they eventually stopped to rest the horses.

“If it ain't asking too much, do you have a plan for taking those four steamboats when they return with the whiskey?” Lefty asked.

“I do,' said Liz, her green eyes on him, ”and you'll learn what it is when I decide to tell the others.”

The four steamboats swept past Little Rock in the middle of the night, and not until the third day did they reach the Mississippi, at a point south of Memphis, Tennessee.