The Pinkerton Job (11 page)

THIRTY-FIVE

Clint came back to the room and found Baca kneeling in front of the woman. As he entered, the young marshal stood up.

“Find anything?” Baca asked.

“No,” Clint said. “They're gone. I'll need Tom Horn to see if he can find any sign. How about her?”

“She says she was afraid of them,” Baca said. “The man was brutal, the woman was . . . well, Juanita says she likes men, but the woman was all over her . . . touching her . . . she didn't like it, but they were paying her.”

“Did she hear them say anything about where they were going from here?” Clint asked. “Socorro, maybe?”

“No, nothing,” Baca said. “They didn't talk in front of her.”

Somebody showed up in the doorway and both men turned and looked. Clint saw a man with a sombrero and a sheriff's star.

“Que pasa?”
the sheriff said. “What the hell is going on, Elfego?”

“Antonio,” Baca said, “let us go to your office so we can talk.”

*   *   *

“Sandusky?” the sheriff asked.

“That's the name,” Clint said.

“I do not know him.”

“Well,” Clint said, “I'm riding with Charlie Siringo and Tom Horn to find him.”

“And you think he is here?”

“I know he is,” Clint said. “That girl Juanita told us so.”

“She told you his name?” the sheriff asked. “The name of the man and woman she was with?”

“No, but—”

“And you?” the sheriff said. “You are still looking for . . . what was his name?”

“Steagall.”

“
Sí
, Steagall. And you just happened to be in that cantina tonight?”

“That is right.”

The lawman stared at the two of them.

“The two of you killed nine men tonight,” he said. “What am I supposed to do about that?”

“Talk to the witnesses,” Baca said. “You will see we had no choice.”

“You could have minded your own business,” the sheriff said to Baca.

“And Clint would be dead,” Baca said. “Would you like Juarez to be known as the place where the Gunsmith was killed?”

“All right, fine,” the lawman said. “Get out.”

“You have not talked to the witnesses yet?” Baca said.

“Yes, I have,” the sheriff said. “When are you leaving town?”

“Not 'til I catch Steagall,” Baca said.

“I'm leaving tomorrow,” Clint said. “Actually, I'm going back over the bridge tonight.”

“Bueno,”
the lawman said. “That is good. Now go.”

Clint and Baca left the office.

“Elfego, I wish I could stay and help you with your problem,” Clint said. “I owe you my life tonight.”

“We are far from even, my friend,” Baca said. “Besides, I do not need help. My man is alone. Yours is not.”

The two men shook hands. “I didn't even buy you a drink,” Clint said.

“Next time, my friend,” Baca said. “Next time.”

THIRTY-SIX

Clint was halfway across the bridge to El Paso when he saw Siringo and Horn coming toward him.

“They're in Juarez,” Siringo said. “We found out one of the deputies saw the girl crossing the bridge.”

“I know,” Clint said. “I found them.”

“You did?” Siringo asked.

“And lost them.”

“You did?” Horn asked.

“Where?” Siringo asked.

“In a cantina,” Clint said. “They were in a back room with a whore.”

“All of them?” Siringo asked.

“Well, Sandusky and the woman.”

“You didn't see them?” Horn asked.

“No,” Clint said, “there was some trouble, and they ran out the back and disappeared.”

“On foot, or horseback?” Horn asked.

“I don't know,” Clint said. “I couldn't tell.”

“Well, take us there,” Horn said. “Maybe I can tell.”

*   *   *

Clint took Siringo and Horn to the back of the cantina. He and the detective stood aside while Horn studied the ground. He finished telling Siringo everything that had happened.

“Elfego Baca, huh?” Siringo said. “That was a lucky coincidence.”

Clint made a face at that word, but in this case it had worked in his favor.

“And the girl they were with didn't know anythin'?” Siringo asked.

“Apparently not,” Clint said. “She was just upset because the woman with Sandusky was touching her.”

“Maybe I should talk to her,” Siringo said. “I might ask her something you didn't.”

“Wait a minute,” Clint said, you speak Spanish, right?”

“I do.”

“Baca was translating for me,” Clint said. “Maybe something got lost in the translation.”

Clint tried the back door, found it still open.

“Tom,” Siringo said, “we're goin' inside for a minute.”

Horn waved at them to go.

*   *   *

Inside Clint found his way to the girl's room again, and they tried the door. It was locked. They pressed their ears to the door.

“Somebody's in there,” Clint said.

“What the hell,” Siringo said, and knocked.

He had to knock a second time before the girl answered. She opened the door about six inches and said, “I am busy.”

“Remember me, Juanita?”

She looked at him, then at Siringo, who said something to her in Spanish. She answered him.

“We can talk right here,” Siringo said to Clint. “We don't have to go in.”

“Okay,” Clint said.

Siringo and the girl began to talk rapidly. Clint wasn't catching much of it beyond
hombre
and
mujer
, “man” and “woman.” For a moment he saw movement inside, a man's bare leg, but that was it. The girl hadn't wasted any time going back to work.

Suddenly, Clint heard the girl say the word “Socorro.”

“What'd she say?”

“Apparently,” Siringo said, “the man and woman she was with didn't think she could speak much English, or understand. And, in fact, she can't. But she did hear one of them say ‘Socorro.'” She said something to Siringo. “The woman. Then the man snapped at her.”

“Probably told her to shut up.”

“Socorro,” Clint said. “That's what we figured.”

“Let's let the girl go back to work,” Siringo suggested.

“Sure.”

Siringo said something to her, then she said,
“Gracias,”
and closed the door.

They went back out to the alley, where Horn was waiting.

“No horses,” he said. “They were on foot, probably went that way.” He pointed. “They're probably goin' to pick up their horses.”

“We could check livery stables all over Juarez and see where they were,” Siringo said.

“Or,” Clint said, “we could mount up in the morning and head for Socorro.”

“Socorro came up?” Horn asked.

“The whore heard the woman say it,” Siringo said.

“Well then, that's my vote,” Horn said. “To hell with Juarez—which, by the way, stinks to high heaven—and El Paso.”

“Okay, then,” Siringo said, “we might as well head back over the bridge and get some sleep. In the morning we'll make for Socorro.”

They were all agreed.

THIRTY-SEVEN

The next morning Sandusky, Anderson, and Delilah rode into Socorro.

“Boss,” Anderson said, “shouldn't we keep goin'? Further into Mexico? The men aren't gonna get here with the cattle.”

“We'll keep goin',” Sandusky said, “but not further into Mexico. We're gonna double back into the States.”

“But . . . we don't even know who's after us,” Anderson said. “If we got the Gunsmith and Elfego Baca after us—”

“They'll never expect us to double back,” Sandusky said.

“So when do we do that?”

“After we meet the rest of the men.”

“The rest—”

“I sent some telegrams, Cal,” Sandusky said. “We've got a new crew waitin' for us here. And if the Gunsmith and Baca or anybody else want to catch up to us here, we'll take care of them.”

“How many men?”

“I'm not sure,” Sandusky said. “Let's go and find out.”

*   *   *

Socorro was an easy ride from El Paso, but when Clint walked the horses from the livery to the hotel, he saw the problem immediately. The Monroe brothers were standing across the street.

He went inside, found Siringo and Horn in the lobby.

“How'd the Monroe brothers get here?” he asked.

“Oh, that,” Horn said. “Yeah, we saw them last night.”

“Must be a coincidence.”

“Yeah, some coincidence,” Siringo said. “Horn told them he—we—would meet them in the street today.”

“And me?” Clint asked.

“They don't know you're here,” Horn said.

“Well,” Clint said, “they know now.”

“Maybe that'll change their minds,” Siringo said hopefully. “I really don't want to kill anybody today—not unless I have to.”

“We backed them down once,” Horn commented. “Maybe we can do it again.”

The three of them went outside. As they stepped into the street, so did the three Monroe brothers.

“Looks like they're determined,” Siringo said.

“Horn!” Josh Monroe called. “It's time, and even havin' the Gunsmith with ya ain't gonna change our minds.”

“That's too bad,” Horn called back, “but come ahead. Let's get this over with. We have to ride out.”

“This is for our brother,” John said.

The three of them went for their guns. Clint, Siringo, and Horn drew calmly and they each shot a Monroe Brother dead.

As they reloaded and holstered their weapons, Clint said, “I'd still like to know how they got here.”

“Let's get out of here before the sheriff tries to keep us from leavin',” Siringo said. “We need to get to Socorro.”

They mounted up and rode out, leaving the three dead men in the street.

*   *   *

Sandusky led Anderson and Delilah to a small cantina and dismounted.

“They should be inside,” Sandusky said, “if they're not off someplace with a whore or two.”

“Do I know these fellas?” Anderson asked.

“You'll know some of them,” Sandusky said. “I know most of them. Others I hired because of their reps.”

They tied off their horses and went inside. Several men looked up from their table.

“Hey, Harlan,” one of them yelled.

“Hey, Kane.”

The two men shook hands, and Kane waved an arm.

“Meet your new gang.”

“You know Cal Anderson, right?” Sandusky asked.

“Sure,” Kane said. He gave a nod to Cal, who returned it.

“And who's this?” Kane asked. He was a big, bald man with long arms that were corded with muscle.

“That's Delilah,” Sandusky said. “She's mine.”

Kane put his hands up and said, “Okay.”

Sandusky looked around. There were six men in the place. He had been hoping for a dozen.

“Where are the Monroe brothers?” he asked.

“In El Paso,” one of the other men said. His name was Hill. “Said they had some business with Tom Horn.”

“Horn is in El Paso?” Sandusky asked.

“According to the Monroe brothers,” Hill said.

Sandusky frowned. Horn was supposed to be dead. So was Siringo. But if they were alive, they—and the Gunsmith
and
Elfego Baca—could be a problem.

“Anybody know anythin' about Elfego Baca?” he asked.

A Mexican named Francisco said, “He's wearing a marshal's badge, lookin' for a man named Steagall.”

“I know Steagall,” Sandusky said. “If Baca's trackin' him, then he ain't after us.”

“That leaves Horn,” Anderson said, “and the Gunsmith, and maybe Siringo.”

“Yeah,” Sandusky said. He looked around again. “Anybody missin' besides the Monroes?”

“Mackie and Lewis are in the back with a whore,” Kane said. “They only got one, so we gotta share her.”

So that made eight men—nine with Kane. The Monroes had probably gone and gotten themselves killed. Add himself, Anderson, and Delilah, that made twelve. Against two, maybe three.

“Okay,” Sandusky said, “from this point on, everybody stays sober. We're probably gonna have to use our guns today.”

“On who?” Kane asked.

“Let's get a beer and I'll tell you.”

“I thought you said we had to stay sober.”

“Yeah, sober,” Sandusky said. “I didn't say we had to stay dry.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

Eventually, all the men were in the cantina. Some of them were eyeing Delilah, obviously preferring her to the local whore. She stayed right next to Sandusky.

Sandusky reinforced his decision about drinking.

“The first man I see drunk gets fired,” he said. “If you can't handle your liquor, then don't drink.”

“When are these men supposed to be comin' here?” Kane asked.

“They should be here today,” Sandusky said. “I'll want you men placed strategically around the town.”

“How many are we sure of?”

“Seems like Horn and Clint Adams are for sure,” Sandusky said. “Charlie Siringo might be with them, if he's not dead.”

“We got a big advantage, “Kane said.

“What about the Gunsmith?” Hill asked. “Even with the amount of men we have, I ain't lookin' to go up against him.”

“We ain't gonna go up against him,” Sandusky said. “We're gomna ambush him. Now listen up, and I'll tell you all where you're gonna be.”

*   *   *

By late afternoon they were on the outskirts of Socorro.

“Now what?” Clint asked. “We can't just ride in there.”

“No,” Siringo said.

“Why not?” Horn asked. “If Sandusky is there, with his
segundo
and his woman, that's just what we gotta do.”

“If they ran out of Juarez last night because of the shooting,” Clint said, “then they know it was me.”

“But do they know you were there lookin' for them?” Horn asked. “Do they even know there's a connection between us and you?”

“Maybe not,” Clint said. “Maybe they're expecting me and Elfego Baca. Either way, they'll be ready.”

“Or,” Siringo said, “they ain't even here.”

“What do you propose?” Clint asked him.

“I propose that I ride down there and see what's goin' on,” Siringo said, “and you two stay here.”

“Naw, I vote no on that one,” Horn said.

“So do I,” Clint agreed.

“What then?”

Clint stared at the town.

“Let's do it,” he said.

“Do what?” Siringo asked.

“He means let's ride right in together,” Horn said.

“What if it's an ambush?”

“You know what men like this are like,” Clint said. “They'll get antsy and fire too soon. They'll be the ones who warn us.”

“Besides,” Horn said, “maybe it'll rattle 'em. Us ridin' in bold like that.”

Siringo studied them both.

“Well, okay,” he said, “if that's what you fellas wanna do.”

“That's what we want to do,” Clint said.

“Let's get it over with,” Horn said.

Siringo shook his head and said, “I'd say you were crazy, except . . .”

“Except what?” Clint asked.

“Except I'm usually the one everybody thinks is crazy.”