“Well, you vowed it’d never happen to us,”Creel reminded him. “We made us a pact, and we’re stickin’ toit.”
“By Godfrey, yes,” noddedUpshaw. “Couple years back, I made myself a promise, said I’d tread real wary,if those hellions ever came to Bosworth.”
“And now they’re here,” fretted Creel.
“Now they’re here,” said Upshaw, “so wegot to stick to our plan. We keep ’em happy. We treat ’emfriendly—and we keep ’em out of this jail.” He sank into his chairand poured himself a refill. With great fervor, he declared, “ForGayatero’s Apaches to raid Bosworth would be a helluva situation.For us to have Valentine and Emerson in our jail—hell! That’d beworse!”
On their way out of town, Sunday and hiscronies had halted their mounts in a cedar grove beyond the countyschool-house. Here, on more than one occasion, they had heldcouncil of war with their venal leader, and Sunday was sure hewould join them presently.
Collier came striding into the grove sometwelve minutes later, grim of visage and short on temper. Bitterly,he rebuked them.
“At a time like this, did you have to getmixed into a damn-blasted brawl? I can’t afford for any of you tobe out of action—or wasting time in a jail cell. You might all havebeen arrested. Do you think I could handle the transfer of all thatmerchandise, with only Bates and the half-breed to helpme?”
“Quit beefin,’ Webb,” grunted Sunday. “Youknow I never make the same mistake twice.”
“Don’t make that mistake again!” snappedCollier. “Stay away from those proddy strangers. In fact, you’dbetter ride clear of town until our business with the chief iscompleted. Stay at the mine—understand? Don’t come to Bosworthwithout my permission.”
“Yeah, sure,” shrugged Sunday.
“Their names,” mused Ellis, “are Valentineand Emerson—and I keep wonderin’ where I heard them namesbefore.”
“I’ve never heard of them.” Colliergrimaced impatiently. “For my money, they’re just a couple ofno-account drifters. Forget about them. We. have something ofgreater importance to consider.”
“You had your parley with the chief?”demanded Sunday.
“And never a patrol spotted me,” saidCollier. “It’s all set up. He’ll pay for the rifles as soon as wedeliver.”
“But,” frowned Sunday, “with themblue-britches snoopin’ all over the flat country, how are we gonnadeliver?”
“I’ll think of something,”Collier assured him. “Meantime, you take your men back to the LuckyDutchman—andstay there. I’ve agreed to meet the chief’s son day after tomorrowto make the final arrangements for the switch. As soon as I’ve madesome kind of plan, I’ll ride up to the mine and explain it to you.”He turned and walked to the outer fringe of the grove to stare backtoward Main Street. “All clear. You can ride on now.”
Sunday and his cohorts continued theirjourney north, their destination the Lucky Dutchman Mine, high inthe Santa Rosa Mountains. To hijack a shipment of new model rifleswas quite an achievement, but that enterprise would have beendoomed to failure had Collier not devised an ideal hiding place forthe stolen weapons. That hiding place, the Lucky Dutchman Mine, hadalready been checked by army search parties, but in vain. Theall-important repeaters were still well and truly hidden.
Five
The Busy Brain of Valentine
By lunchtime, Webb Collier hadresumed his duties at the Gold Buckle, one of Bosworth’s largestgaming houses. As well as being a venal opportunist, a thief and acoldblooded murderer, he was an expert faro dealer, at which trade he workedfor a percentage for the Gold Buckle’s owner. It was a useful frontand had served him well.
During this time, Larry and Stretch wereconsuming a massive lunch in the dining room of the Lincoln House,after which meal they would retire to their bedroom to discuss thetask wished onto them by Colonel Jethro, and to plot their nextmove.
Simultaneously, in his personal quartersat the garrison camp, Colonel Mortimer Stone, commanding officer ofthe 9th Cavalry, was conversing with one of his aides, the urbaneand handsome Captain Ralph Kerwin. The colonel, a sworn enemy ofthe Lone Star Hellions—and of every other Texan—was a lean, wiryveteran in the advanced fifties. His brows were bushy, matching hismilitary-style moustache; his nose was prominent, his eyes coldblue. At the moment, he was in good humor—a rare condition. And thesubject under discussion seemed mundane, compared with the overallsituation existing in Bosworth County, the danger of warlike actionfrom the local Apaches.
“I believe I can safely state,” he loftilyinformed the captain, “that the condition has improved. Yes,indeed, Captain Kerwin.”
“Congratulations, sir,” smiled Kerwin.
“Captain,” frowned Stone, “are you beingflippant?”
“Perish the thought, sir,” said Kerwin.
“Dyspepsia,” Stone sternly asserted, “isno laughing matter. Considering the events of the past two weeksthe theft of those rifles, the butchering of an officer and fiveenlisted men, the threat of violent action from old Gayatero, Imarvel that my condition could improve—but it has. Thanks to MajorVaughan’s medication …”
“The major, if I may say so,” offeredKerwin, “is a physician of exceptional talent.”
“Well,” said Stone, with a thin smile, “hecertainly defeated my dyspepsia. I can’t remember when I lastsuffered a twinge.” He cocked an ear to the sound of heavy stepsoutside, nodded to the captain. “See who that is.”
Kerwin quit the tent, but returned almostimmediately. With him came Sergeant Boyle, who, after according hisC O. a smart salute, announced,
“Somethin’ to report, Colonel,sir!”
“News of the missing shipment, I hope?”prodded Kerwin.
“No, sir,” said Boyle.
“What then?” Stone impatiently demanded.
“I have to report, sir,” said Boyle, “thatValentine and Emerson are here. Yes sir, Colonel. Right here inBosworth County.”
Kerwin was deeply shocked, because thesound that erupted from his commanding officer was like the roar ofa rampaging cougar. The colonel turned pasty white, beetroot-redand deep purple, in that order. Then, groaning curses and claspingat his belly, he ordered Kerwin to,
“Send for the medical officer—at once!”
Some twenty minutes later, and a safefifty yards from the colonel’s tent, Kerwin accosted Major SpencerVaughan, who had just finished treating Stone for a sudden returnof his stomach condition. Vaughan, a ruddy-complexioned healer offriendly demeanor, listened patiently to the captain’squery.
“I don’t understand it, Major!”
“Call me ‘Spence’. We don’t have to standon military ceremony, provided the old man can’t hearus.”
“Spence—his stomach
