Vendetta Trail (18 page)

AT ABOUT THAT SAME TIME, BACK IN BELLEFONT,
Eddie Smalley took a last swallow of his coffee, then got up from the breakfast table. He walked around the table to kiss Louise.

“I’m going to open the store.”

“Why so early? We’ve got another half hour before we have to open,” she said. “I just heard Kathy ringing the school bell.”

“Ely wanted to come in early this morning so he could get some things for the kitchen over at the Brown Dirt. He’s a good customer. I like to keep him happy.”

“I know. All right, you go open the store. I’ll get over there as soon as I get the breakfast dishes washed.”

“You don’t have to hurry.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Louise, have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you for a wife?”

“No, Eddie,” she said. “I’m the lucky one. Not many men would treat me the way you have, knowing where they found me.”

“Yes, well, you never know where gold is going to turn up,” Eddie said with a chuckle.

Louise walked to the front door with him and kissed him again before he left. She watched him start across the street, then sighed in contentment. As Clarisse had told her before she left New Orleans, “Honey, you are about to realize every whore’s dream.” Turning away from the door, she returned to the kitchen to begin cleaning up.

She had just finished the dishes when she heard someone knocking at the back door. Chuckling, she started toward it.

“What did you do, Eddie, forget your key again? You should tie a…” she stopped in midsentence when she opened the door and saw Vizzini standing on her back porch. Vizzini was holding a shotgun.

“Vizzini!” she gasped.

Vizzini smiled an evil, ugly smile.

“I’m flattered that you remember me,” he said.

“You aren’t an easy man to forget,” Louise said.

Vizzini reached out and let the fingers of his left hand trail across her breast. “You and I never experienced the bed of pleasure, did we?” he asked. “We should have. I’m told by those who did go up to your room with you that you were a real joy.”

“What do you want?” Louise asked. “I’m not in that business anymore,” she added coldly.

“Don Tangeleno wants to see you.”

“Well, you just go back and tell your boss that I don’t want to see him.”

“If you remember, Don Tangeleno is not a man you want to disappoint,” Vizzini said.

“What are you two doing here, anyway? This isn’t New Orleans. There can’t possibly be anything here that would interest either one of you.”

“We have some business to do here, and you are going to help us.”

“I’m not going to help you do anything.”

“Oh, I think you will,” Vizzini said. “Because if you don’t, I will blow your head off with this shotgun. Then I will go into the store across the street and I will blow your husband’s head off.”

Louise didn’t respond.

“You know me, Louise,” Vizzini said. “You know Tangeleno and you know the Family. You know too that I will do as I say, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Louise said in a small quiet voice.

“So you will help us. Yes?”

“Yes,” Louise answered, her voice so quiet now that it could barely be heard.

“Was that a yes?” Vizzini jabbed the twin barrels of the shotgun under Louise’s chin, pushing it up so hard that it hurt.

“Yes,” Louise said again.

“I thought so. Come along. We have things to do.”

Miss Betty O’Hare had eleven students in her school. They ranged in age from six to sixteen. Right now she had her older children doing work at their seats while she was going over a reading assignment with her younger students. When, unexpectedly, the door opened, she looked up to see Louise coming in.

“Why, Mrs. Smalley, what a pleasant surprise,” Betty said. “What brings you here for a visit?”

Two men stepped into the school behind Louise and Betty saw that they were both carrying shotguns.

“What is this? What’s going on?” Betty asked in alarm.

“That one,” Tangeleno said, pointing to one of the students.

Vizzini walked over and grabbed the student Tangeleno had pointed out, a young girl of about twelve.

“Miss O’Hare!” the young girl called out.

“Don’t make another sound, girl,” Vizzini said. “If you do, I’ll pull the trigger.”

The girl began crying, though her sobs were subdued.

“Get your students all together, teacher,” Tangeleno said. “We’re all going to church.”

“‘Church’? I don’t understand,” Betty said.

“You don’t have to understand. All you have to do is do what I say. Get all these kids rounded up, take them through the back door of the school, across the schoolyard, and into the back door of the church.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“Then we will kill this girl to show you that we are serious,” Tangeleno said. He looked toward Vizzini. “Do it,” he ordered.

Vizzini pulled the hammer back on one of the barrels of his shotgun.

“Betty, for God’s sake, do it!” Louise said desperately. “I know these men! Vizzini will do exactly what Tangeleno tells him to do!”

Betty hesitated for just a second, then she said, “All right, children, let’s do what the men say. Out the back door, across the yard, and into the church.”

“I want my mama,” one very young girl whimpered.

“Don’t worry,
piccolo uno
, you will see your mama very soon,” Tangeleno said. “Oh, and let me warn you, if anyone tries to run, we will kill this girl.”

“Don’t anyone run,” Betty said. “Please, don’t anyone run.”

The church was right next door to the school and the little group of students and adults crossed the yard, then went in through the back door of the church. The reverend was sitting at his desk writing when they all came in.

“Well,” he said, smiling broadly. “Have you come to have a…” He stopped in midsentence when he saw the two men
with shotguns, one of which was pressed to a young girl’s head. “What is this?” he asked.

“The sign out front says your name is Reverend Timothy Gadbury,” Tangeleno said.

“I am.”

“Well, Reverend Gadbury, my name is Joseph Tangeleno. I’m sure you haven’t heard of me, but—”

“I’ve heard of you, Mr. Tangeleno,” Gadbury said. “I conducted the funerals for Deekus and Farley Carter.”

“Good, then you realize that we are people who deserve respect.”

“Io non ho rispetto per un assassino,”
Gadbury said in clipped angry tones.

“You have no respect for a murderer? Bravo, bravo, Padre. I didn’t know you spoke Italian.”

“What do you want, Tangeleno?”

“I want to borrow your church.”

“It isn’t my church. It is God’s church.”

“Madre di Dio,”
Tangeleno said, sighing and throwing up his hand. “All right, then I want to borrow God’s church. I’m sure He won’t mind.”

“Why do you want to borrow the church?”

“Because it is the only place large enough to hold every man, woman, and child in town.”

“I don’t understand,” Gadbury said.

“It isn’t important that you understand. It is only important that you get everyone to come to the church. Everyone,” he said with emphasis.

“How do you expect me to do that? On the best Sunday just over half the people in the town come to church.”

“You are going to tell them that if everyone is not in this church, one hour from now, I am going to start killing the schoolchildren. And I will kill one of them every five minutes
until I have killed all of them—or until everyone in town is in this church.”

“You are mad!” Gadbury said.

“No, Padre, I am determined,” Tangeleno said. “And the hour starts now,” he said, looking at his pocket watch. “Oh, I will send Louise with you to help you round everyone up.”

Gadbury continued to stare angrily at Tangeleno.

“You had better get going, Reverend,” Vizzini said. “Don Tangeleno don’t like to be kept waiting.” Vizzini looked at his watch. “And two minutes have already passed. What if the last person doesn’t get here until two minutes too late, and I have already killed this girl?” He jabbed the shotgun against the young girl’s neck and she whimpered.

“That would be the two minutes that you have already wasted. Wouldn’t you feel bad about being the cause of that?”

“Come, Mrs. Smalley,” Gadbury said, starting toward the front door of the church. “We must make haste.”

Vizzini laughed. “‘Make haste,’” he said. “Yeah, I like that. What is that? Some sort of sermon talk?”

Gadbury glared at Vizzini. “Do no harm to the children,” he said as he and Louise left.

Within minutes after Gadbury left, the first of the townspeople started coming in. Tangeleno met them at the door. One of the men, standing just in front of the marquee, was wearing a pistol belt.

“Leave your gun outside,” Tangeleno ordered.

“The hell I will! You let those children go!” the man shouted, making a grab for his pistol.

Tangeleno whirled his shotgun around and pulled the trigger while the man was still bringing his pistol up. The blast caught him in the upper chest, neck, and face, and slammed him back against the church marquee. He slid
down, gasped a few times for breath, then died. From inside the church, the children screamed, and Tangeleno turned his gun toward them.

“Be quiet!” he ordered. “I will shoot the next person who screams.”

There were no more incidents after that and, within an hour, the church was filled.

“Is this everyone, Louise?” Tangeleno asked when she and the preacher returned. Louise’s husband was with her.

“Yes, this is everyone.”

Tangeleno looked over the church for a moment, then nodded. “You know, Louise, I believe you are right. Even Ely and the whores who work for him are here.”

Ely, Maggie, and Sally, the other “soiled dove,” were sitting near the back.

“Tell me, Padre, is this the first time you’ve ever had a whore in your church?” Tangeleno asked.

Gadbury didn’t answer.

“Ah, no, wait. Louise is one of your regulars, isn’t she?”

“Mrs. Smalley attends church quite regularly, yes,” Gadbury replied.

“Well, then, this is not the first time you’ve had a whore in your church, is it?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” the preacher said.

“Of course you don’t. So, Louise, is this your husband?”

Louise didn’t answer.

“I think he is your husband. I can tell by the way he looks at you. Mr. Smalley, did you know that before she came here, your wife was a whore? I am told she was quite good. I can’t speak for myself, of course; she never spread her legs for me. But my friends have told me she was very good. What about it, Mr. Smalley? Is she very good?”

“Why, you low-assed, piss-complexioned, maggot-
infested, pig-faced son of a bitch!” Eddie said, starting toward him.

Tangeleno pointed his shotgun at the kids and he pulled the hammer back. “Take one more step and I’ll pull the trigger,” he said. “With this scattergun I’ll kill at least two of them and hurt a lot more. Do you want to see that?”

Eddie glared at him.

“Eddie, no,” Louise said. “It’s not worth it.”

Looking around the room, Eddie saw that several of the townspeople were looking on in shock over what they had just heard.

“It’s true,” Eddie said. “I met her in New Orleans. I knew what she was when I met her, but I didn’t care. I fell in love with her.”

“Oh,” Tangeleno said. “Did I give away your secret?”

“We love her as well,” Gadbury said. “The entire town loves her.”

“Yes, but that was before you knew she was a whore,” Tangeleno said. “What do you think of her now?”

“Even Jesus forgave the prostitutes,” Gadbury said. “I don’t know who or what she was in New Orleans, but here, I am proud to say that she is Mrs. Smalley, a member of our church and my friend.”

“My friend too,” Betty said and immediately the others, including Maggie and Sally, gathered around Louise to extend their assurances that nothing had changed.

Tangeleno clapped quietly. “What a tender scene,” he said. “I am impressed by the goodness of the people in this town.”

“Coming out of your mouth, Tangeleno, even the word ‘goodness’ has a foulness to it,” Gadbury said.

“I’ll say this for you, Padre. You’ve got sand,” Tangeleno said. Then to Louise he said, “Oh, I almost forgot. I have a telegram for you.”

“You…have a telegram for me?”

“It’s my fault, Mrs. Smalley,” Rodman said. “That other man with the shotgun was there when the telegram came in yesterday. He told me he was your brother, so I gave it to him.”

“I’m sorry I’m late in telling you about it,” Tangeleno said. “Suppose I just read it to you?” Without waiting for a response, Tangeleno took the message out of his pocket and read it. “‘I will be arriving on the 7th. Instant. Stop. Rachel.’”

Tangeleno looked up at her. “That is right, isn’t it? You are expecting your friend Rachel to come to Bellefont today?”

“Yes,” Louise said.

“Good. Now you folks just relax and make yourselves comfortable. This will all be over by this afternoon.”

“What do you mean everything will be over this afternoon?” Louise asked.

“It will be over as soon as I kill Rachel and the man she is traveling with,” Tangeleno said.

ALTHOUGH THE SUN WAS LOW IN THE WESTERN
sky, there was still quite a bit of light when the train reached Bellefont. There were no departing passengers waiting at the station, and no one who was just curious to see the train as it arrived. As a result, Hawke and Rachel, who were the only two arriving passengers, stepped out onto a deserted platform in a very quiet town.

The door to the baggage car opened and the baggage handler stood there looking out.

“Matt!” he called. “Matt, we got luggage!”

The conductor left the train as well, and he flipped open his watch to check the time.

“That’s funny. It’s not like Matt to miss a train,” he said. “Come to think of it, this time of day, there’s normally a dozen or so people here. I wonder where everyone is.”

“Has this ever happened before?” Hawke asked. “I mean for you to arrive and there be absolutely no one to meet the train.”

“Oh, it has from time to time,” the conductor said. “Like if there is somethin’ goin’ on in town…a wedding or some
thing. But normally there is someone here…at least to handle the baggage.”

“Why don’t I just walk down to the baggage car and have the luggage handed down to me?” Hawke asked.

The conductor chuckled. “If you’re going to get your luggage, looks like that’s the only way it’s going to happen.”

“Oh, would you mind taking this as well?” The baggage handler asked after he had handed down Hawke and Rachel’s luggage. He was holding a small canvas pouch.

“What is this?” Hawke asked.

“According to the bill of lading, it’s a knife. Anyway, it is to be left with the hotel clerk. A man named Cassius Cole will pick it up sometime next week. All the information is in a letter just inside the pouch.”

“All right. Give it to me,” Hawke said. “If I can’t find the station master, I’ll take it over to the hotel myself.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” the baggage clerk said as he handed the bag down to Hawke. He closed the door to the car and Hawke carried the two pieces of luggage and the canvas bag over to where Rachel and the conductor were still standing.

The conductor snapped the cover closed on his watch, then waved toward the engine. The engineer blew the whistle twice, then opened the throttle. The conductor stepped up on to the train just as it began to roll.

“If you see the station master, tell him we couldn’t wait,” the conductor called back to Hawke as the train began gathering speed. “You folks have a real nice visit.”

“Thanks,” Rachel called back to him.

Hawke and Rachel stood on the depot platform until the train reached the edge of town. The sound of the train receded in the distance, to be replaced by the high keening moan of a prairie wind. A dust devil danced across the street
and a sign that read
HARDWARE
,
TINWARE
,
AND NOTIONS
squeaked as it was jerked back and forth by the force of the wind. Somewhere a dog barked.

“Let’s go into the depot and see if anyone is here,” Hawke suggested.

They went into the depot and looked around but saw nobody.

“Hello?” Hawke called.

When he didn’t get an answer, Hawke walked around behind the ticket counter but found the area completely deserted. He checked two of the side rooms and found them empty as well.

From another part of the building, the telegraph started clacking and the sudden intrusion of sound in the abandoned building startled both of them.

“Maybe the telegrapher knows what’s going on,” Hawke said, starting toward the sound. He opened the door and looked in, but no one was in the room.

The clacking of the telegraph was from a signal being received at the other end. Hawke could not read telegraphy, but as a musician he was keenly attuned to rhythm. As the same rhythmic pattern kept repeating itself, he had the opinion that some distant telegrapher was trying to get the attention of the Bellefont station.

“I wonder where everyone is,” Rachel said.

“Well, if it’s just a one-man operation, the way the conductor said, maybe he’s not feeling very well. It’s not like he has a rush of business,” Hawke said.

Rachel chuckled. “You’ve got that right.” She looked toward the clock, then turned her head quizzically. The clock read: 11:28. The pendulum was hanging motionless in the glass-fronted case.

“Mason, look at the clock. It’s about five hours late.”

Hawke walked over to the clock and started the pendulum. It moved back and forth enough times to indicate there was nothing wrong with the clock.

“It’s run down,” Hawke said in surprise. “Why would you let a clock run down in a railroad depot? Of all places, you would think a train station would need to have an accurate timepiece.”

“What do we do now?”

“Do you know where your friend Louise lives?”

“No,” Rachel said. “I just send the mail to her in care of general delivery, Bellefont. But I did send her a telegram telling her that I would be arriving today. I’m a little surprised that she isn’t here to meet us.”

“It shouldn’t be all that hard to find her. Look at that sign.”

WELCOME TO

BELLEFONT

POPULATION:
103

“With a population like that, I suspect everyone in town will know her.”

“It isn’t a very big town, is it? Unless everybody in town gambles, I don’t know where I’m going to get my business.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Hawke replied. “These small Western towns generally get most of their business from the ranches and farms around it. You’ll be surprised at how much business you’ll have.” He picked up the two suitcases. “There’s the hotel across the street. What do you say we go get checked in? Then we can walk down to your friend’s store.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Rachel said as she started toward the Railroad Hotel with him.

As they crossed the street, they heard a cow bawling.

“What’s that?” Rachel asked.

Hawke laughed. “Don’t tell me the Brubaker Farm didn’t have cows,” he teased. “She just needs milking. That’s all.”

“Of course we had cows, but I didn’t do such things. I was a pampered Southern Belle, remember?”

Another cow joined the first.

“Sounds like another cow needs milking,” Rachel said.

They stepped up on to the porch of the hotel, then Hawke pushed the door open and they went inside. There was nobody behind the desk.

“Hello?” Hawke called. His call got no response.

They looked around the lobby of the hotel. It had two overstuffed chairs, a spittoon, a small table, and a dark blue carpet on the floor.

“Mason, look. This clock has stopped too.”

“Maybe the clerk is asleep,” Hawke suggested. He leaned over the check-in desk but saw no one.

“I guess they don’t want our business,” Rachel said.

“Well, they’re going to get our business, whether they want it or not,” Hawke said. Behind the counter he saw a big board of keys. From some of the hooks only one key hung; from others, two keys were hanging. He selected keys from a couple of the hooks that had two keys each.

“You’ll be in Room 23, I’ll be in Room 24,” he said, handing her a key. He turned the registration book around and started to sign it but paused when he saw one of the names.

“Rachel, Tangeleno and Vizzini are here,” Hawke said quietly.

Rachel gasped. “Here? In this hotel?”

“Yes,” Hawke said. “One is in Room 22, the other is in Room 28.”

Even as Hawke was identifying the room, he took the spare keys for rooms 22 and 28 down from the board. Then
he pulled his pistol and spun the cylinder, checking the loads. “It looks like this time we have the upper hand.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’m going to kill them,” Hawke said easily.

With his pistol in hand, Hawke crossed the lobby and climbed the steps. Reaching the second floor, he heard a slapping sound from the far end of the hall and he spun quickly, cocking his pistol and bringing it up as he did so.

The sound came from the open window at the far end of the hall. Wind was blowing against a windowshade, lifting it away from the window when the breeze was strong enough, letting it fall back as the wind waned.

Chastising himself for being so jumpy, Hawke continued to walk down the hallway. He stepped as close to the wall as he could because he knew that the floorboards would be less likely to squeak or strain there.

Moving very quietly, he reached Room 22 and stopped just outside the door. He put his ear to the door and listened to see if he could hear any sound that would indicate there was someone in the room.

Hearing nothing, he put the key in the lock, turned it, then stepped back out of the way, expecting a fusillade of shots to come through the door.

No shots were fired.

With his weapon drawn, Hawke dived into the room. He rolled once, then came up with his gun cocked and pointing at the bed.

The bed was empty.

Quickly, Hawke looked all the way around the room.

Like the bed, the room was empty.

Hawke backed out into the hallway, then started trying other doors. Not one door was locked—and not one room was occupied.

He went back downstairs.

“Rachel?”

Rachel rose up from behind the desk. “What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing. The rooms were empty. The entire hotel is empty.”

“The
hotel
is empty,” Rachel said. “If you ask me, this entire
town
is empty. We haven’t seen a living soul since we got off the train. I don’t mind telling you, I’m beginning to find this whole thing rather creepy.”

“It does seem a little odd,” Hawke agreed. Hawke walked over to the front window and looked out onto the main street of Bellefont.

“Do you see anyone out there?” Rachel asked.

“No, not a soul. What’s the name of your friend’s store?”

“Smalley’s.”

“Let’s go find it.”

“All right. Anything is better than hanging around in this mausoleum,” Rachel agreed.

It wasn’t hard to find the store. It was right next door to the hotel. From the outside it looked as deserted as the street, but when Rachel tried the doorknob, she found that it was unlocked.

“Oh, good, it’s open,” she said with a broad smile. The little bell on the door rang cheerily as Rachel pushed it open.

“Louise!” Rachel called. “Louise, it’s me, Rachel!”

No one responded to the call.

“Now, don’t tell me there’s nobody here either,” Rachel said in frustration. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would they leave the store completely unlocked if there is nobody here?”

The Reverend Timothy Gadbury looked at the eleven children who were tied together in the sanctuary of the church.
They had been here since early morning and the children, as well as the people of the town, were exhausted.

At least they weren’t starving—or dying for lack of water. Tangeleno had allowed some of the women to leave the church long enough to prepare food and bring water for everyone. But he chose only the mothers of the children so he could be sure they would come back.

Looking around the room, Gadbury saw that Vizzini was sitting in a chair near the altar with a shotgun across his lap. All through the day, he had held the gun pressed against one or another of the children.

At one point just after lunch, when it was obvious that Vizzini was nodding off, a couple of the men were contemplating jumping him.

“No,” Gadbury had told them. “Look at the way he is holding that gun. The least disturbance could cause it to go off.”

“We’ll grab the gun first.”

“It’s too risky. Even if you got his gun, you would still have the other one to contend with.”

“You’d better listen to the preacher, gentlemen,” Tangeleno said.

The men gasped in surprise, for they had not heard Tangeleno sneak up on them. After that, no further plans to overcome their guards were contemplated.

Gadbury heard the train arrive, then depart.

“The train is here,” he said.

“Yes,” Tangeleno replied.

“How long are you going to keep us?” Reverend Gadbury asked. “You said you would let us go when the train arrived. Well, the train has arrived.”

“I said, also, that I was going to keep you as long as it takes,” Tangeleno said.

“Then, in God’s name, please let the children go. They can do you no harm.”

Tangeleno shook his head. “I can’t let them go. They’re my insurance. The only way I can keep the entire town locked up in this church is because they know that if one citizen of this town leaves the church…even one…I will kill one of the children.”

“That is unconscionable, sir,” the reverend said. “Not even a seed of Satan can be that evil.”

“Why, didn’t you know, Padre?” Tangeleno replied. “I
am
the seed of Satan.” He laughed.

“I offer myself in place of these children.”

“Ha!” Tangeleno said. “Do you really think anyone in this town gives one damn about whether you live or die? Thank you for your offer, Padre, but I’ll stick with the children.”

“Hey, Eddie,” one of the men called. “Looks like you’ve got some customers in your store.”

“Impossible,” Eddie said. “Everyone in town is right here in the church.”

“Yeah, well, they aren’t from town,” the man said. “It’s a man and a woman and I ain’t never seen either one before.”

“Take a look, Vizzini,” Tangeleno said.

Vizzini walked over to the window and looked through it.

“Yeah, it’s them,” he said.

Tangeleno looked at Louise. “Go invite Rachel to come to church,” he said. “Not the man with her. I want him to remain in the hotel. Just bring Rachel.”

Louise shook her head no. “You want me to invite my friend down here so you can kill her? No, I won’t do it.”

In a sudden and unexpected move, Tangeleno slashed his knife across the Reverend Gadbury’s throat. With a look of total shock and fear, Gadbury put his hands to his neck, but could do nothing to stop the fountain of blood that gurgled through his hands. His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell backward, lay on the floor kicking his left leg rather convulsively for a moment, then died.