“I sincerely hope you're right, Mr. Blaine,” Murphy said. “It would be a grievous sin to cause harm to these innocent passengers.” He pushed back from the table and stood up to leave.
The Potters got to their feet, as well, ready to return to the coach. “All this talk about outlaws is enough to upset your stomach,” Ethel commented to her husband.
“I reckon you're right,” Frank replied. “But like Mr. Murphy said, we ain't got any money, so it'd be a waste of time trying to rob us.”
Adam didn't bother to look up, but he sensed that Potter's statement seemed to have been dropped for his benefit. He had to smile to himself, thinking,
I should have spruced up a little more, so these folks wouldn't worry themselves about me.
He almost laughed aloud when the next question was posed to him.
Eating in seeming indifference to the dinnertime topic of discussion, Bonnie Wells took the last sip from her coffee and leaned close to Adam. “Are you in one of those gangs of outlaws? 'Cause, if you are, I'd just as soon know it now, and I'll get off this damn stagecoach. And you and me can negotiate how much I've got that's worth stealing right here. You can take it out in trade.”
With his fork stalled halfway between his plate and his mouth, Adam turned to take a close look at the woman. He had never bothered to before, and even under casual scrutiny, it was fairly obvious that she had traveled a lot of these rugged roads from one gold strike to the next. It was hard to say for sure, but he guessed she might have been a handsome woman at one time in her life. The roads had taken their toll on her, however, and the generous application of powder and paint was sorely challenged to cover the lines etched in her face. The tired eyes searching his told him that she was serious about her query. “Lady,” he said, “if I was an outlaw, your proposition would truly interest me, but you've got nothin' to fear from me. I'm just tryin' to get to Bannack to look for my brother.”
“Well, I reckon that's a relief,” she said. Then with a tired smile she added, “We could still negotiate something when we get to Bannack, if you're of a mind to.”
“Now, that's a right tempting proposition,” he replied, with no desire to insult the woman. “But I reckon I just don't have that on my mind right at the moment.”
“Hmph,” she grunted, “I thought all men had that on their mind most of the time.” With that, she got up and casually strolled out the door.
Adam glanced up to find Mutt grinning at him. “That there is Miss Bonnie Wells,” he announced grandly. “She might tell you different, but I suspect Sheriff Plummer invited her to take my stagecoach outta town. There was too many fellers wakin' up with their pockets empty after an evenin' with Bonnie. One feller was found in the alley behind the Silver Dollar with his throat cut. Nobody could say that Bonnie done it, but the last time anybody saw him alive he was followin' Bonnie upstairs to her room.” He took another biscuit from the plate and put it in his pocket. “Just thought you'd be interested,” he said as he got to his feet. “Reckon it's time to get goin'.”
“'Preciate the information,” Adam said, and followed Mutt out the door. “Ain't likely to happen to me, though.”
“Mighty good vittles,” Mutt sang out to Frances Haney as they walked past her, “just like always.”
“That goes for me, too, ma'am,” Adam said.
They found the other four passengers standing together by the coach door, obviously engaged in a discussion of some kind. It seemed that Murphy was doing most of the talking, but the conversation met a sudden death as Mutt and Adam approached. “I got a fair idea what they're talkin' about,” Mutt commented. “It's liable to be a bit chilly inside the coach. You might wanna ride up top with me again.”
“Suits me,” Adam said with a touch of chagrin, knowing that he was being tried for the crime of being a stranger. Without hesitation, he climbed up to the driver's box to take his place, saving Murphy the bother of suggesting it to Mutt.
Chapter 4
The sun was settling close upon the Rocky Mountains to the west of them when the first sign of trouble appeared. With the Beaverhead River far behind them, Mutt was about to feel confident that the trip was going to be without incident. Approaching a long, narrow draw, he called upon the horses for more speed, anxious to emerge quickly from the confining walls of the canyon. As soon as he saw the three riders appear at the head of the draw, however, he knew his luck had run out. Just as he feared, when he looked behind him, three more riders appeared to box the stage in. “Uh-oh,” he mumbled low, “this don't look too good.”
Alert to the situation at the same time as Mutt, Adam reached behind him and pulled his rifle from his saddle. Cranking a cartridge into the chamber, he then put the weapon between them with the barrel resting at his feet. His actions caused Mutt to warn him. “Take it easy, man. You're liable to get us all kilt. They're all wearin' masks, so they're just after the gold under the boot. If we don't do nothin' foolish, they'll just take it and go.”
“How do they know what's in the boot?”
“They always know when any sizable amount is on the stage,” Mutt replied. “And folks is beginnin' to figure the sheriff is the one that tips 'em off.”
“Why don't the citizens of Virginia City and Bannack do somethin' about it?” Adam asked, finding the situation hard to understand in spite of the explanation offered by Earl Foster the night before.
“They've already started doin' somethin',” Mutt said. “Vigilantes. There's already been a half dozen outlaws hung, but there's too many of 'em.” He gave Adam a warning frown and repeated, “Best thing now is to just let 'em take what they want, and leastways they won't hurt nobody.”
“All right,” Adam replied, and sat patiently as Mutt pulled the coach to a stop several yards short of the three outlaws awaiting them in the middle of the narrow road. As Mutt had said, they were masked, two of them with full cloth hoods with eyeholes, the other with a bandanna hiding all but his eyes. Adam could already feel the anger moving rapidly throughout his body as he witnessed the casual manner in which the road agents sat their horses, as if they were tax collectors, waiting to steal from those who had worked to earn their possessions.
“Don't do nothin' foolish,” Mutt warned again, sensing Adam's anger. “This ain't the first time I've been held up. Just do what they say and you'll live to make it to Bannack.”
With pistols out and aimed at Mutt and Adam, the outlaws moved up beside the driver's box. One, a large man wearing a black hat pulled down over his cloth mask, was obviously the boss. He took a quick glance in the coach before speaking to Mutt. “Mutt Jeffries, I do believe,” he announced almost cheerfully. “It's been a little while since I stopped you. Nice seein' you again.”
“Yeah,” Mutt replied sarcastically, “it's a real pleasure.”
Mutt's response brought a brief chuckle from the outlaw before he ordered, “All right, everybody out of the coach!” He kept his pistol trained on Adam and Mutt. “You two just sit right where you are.” He waited then while his other three companions rode up behind the coach and dismounted. “Get 'em outta there,” he barked at one of the two beside him when there had been some hesitation from the passengers to disembark. His men snatched the doors open and rudely herded the terrified passengers out. Black Hat returned his focus to Mutt. “What'cha got in that compartment under your feet, Mutt?”
“I don't know if there's anythin' in there,” Mutt lied. “That ain't my department. I just drive the horses.”
Again, a chuckle from Black Hat. “Now, Mutt, you know better'n tryin' to tell me shit like that. 'Spose you unlock it and we'll take a little look?”
“I can't,” Mutt replied. “I ain't got no key for that lock.”
“Is that a fact?” Black Hat replied, enjoying the little game being played. “I guess this just ain't our lucky day, boys. Ol' Mutt here ain't got no key.” He gave Adam a hard looking-over then, which told Adam the man was deciding if he was a special guard for the gold that he obviously knew to be under the boot. “I don't suppose you've got the key to that box, have you?”
“Nope,” Adam replied stoically.
“I expect you'd best hand me that pistol you're wearin',” Black Hat said, “handle first.” Adam realized then that the outlaw could not see the rifle resting against his leg, so he drew the .44 from his holster and tossed it down. “I said hand it to me,” Black Hat spat in a flash of anger as the weapon fell to the ground at his horse's hooves. He soon recovered his casual mood, however. “Now, I wonder who might have a key to that box with four thousand dollars' worth of gold in it.” Unnoticed by anyone, Henry Murphy blanched when the exact sum was mentioned, but a moment later his trembling was evident to all. Thoroughly enjoying the position Murphy was in, Black Hat continued. “Whaddaya think, boys? I'm willin' to bet the ol' gent there in the fancy suit might have a key that fits that lock.”
“Might at that,” one of his men replied. They had already begun stripping the passengers of anything they found of value. “He ain't got but a few dollars in his wallet and a gold watchâabout the only things I found so far.” Murphy stood with all his pockets turned inside out. Next to him, Frank Potter stood, quaking with fear, his pockets inside out as well.
“We don't have any money,” Frank's wife spoke up. “Why don't you leave us alone?”
“You just keep your mouth shut,” she was told, “or I'm gonna shut it for you.” The outlaw snatched her purse from her and dumped the contents on the ground. Potter made a move to come to his wife's defense and promptly received a sharp rap across his face with the barrel of the outlaw's pistol.
“There's no cause for that.” The remark came from Adam, still seated in the driver's box beside Mutt.
Black Hat cocked his head sharply upon hearing it. “I'll get to you in a minute,” he said. Turning back to the man searching Murphy, he said, “Unbutton his britches and pull 'em down.” Mortified, Murphy stood trembling as his trousers were dropped to his ankles, revealing the money belt he wore under them. “Well, lookee here,” Black Hat taunted. “If I had a key to that much gold, that's where I'd hide it. Relieve the man of his burden.” Looking back at Mutt then, he said, “All right, Mutt, you and your friend climb down offa that seat now.”
Before there was time to comply, they were distracted by a minor drama taking place between one of the outlaws and Bonnie Wells. “What you got hid under that skirt?” he goaded. “You wearin' a money belt, too?” Although his face was concealed by a red bandanna with his hat pulled low on his forehead, it was obvious he was a young man.
“You know what's under that skirt, you son of a bitch,” Bonnie replied fearlessly. “You've paid for it plenty of times.”
“Ha!” he responded. “Not hardly. I ain't never been that hard up, or that drunk. Now, you might as well hand over your money. I know you got it hid on you somewhere.” He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her up against the coach.
Not at all intimidated, but angered by his aggression, she reached up and jerked the bandanna from his face. “Why don't you let us all get a look at you, Billy Crabtree? You think I didn't know that was you?”
“Oh, shit!” Mutt murmured almost too softly to be heard, for her act of defiance could very well spell execution for the rest of them. Billy Crabtree grabbed his bandanna and tried frantically to replace it over his face while looking plaintively back at Black Hat, knowing he had made a huge mistake.
“Well, now, Billy,” Black Hat said, his tone soft and patient. “It looks like we've got us a little problem, don't it? You've gone and let these folks identify you. When they get to Bannack, they'll most likely tell everybody, and those damn vigilantes will be lookin' to run you down. I reckon you'd better head for someplace way the hell away from here, and you better not waste any time doin' it.”
Confused and panicky from this unexpected turn of events, Billy pleaded for redemption. “I couldn't help it, Jesse. I didn't know the bitch was gonna grab for it.”
Obviously angry, but still maintaining his patient manner, Black Hat remarked, “Well, now you've told'em my name, too. Why the hell don't you just tell 'em everybody else's and be done with it?”
“I didn't mean to, Jesse,” Billy begged, his self-control draining by the second. “We can kill 'em all,” he cried. “Then nobody will know. We've done it before! We'll start with her!” He grabbed Bonnie's throat again and pointed his pistol at her head. “Whaddaya say, Jesse? No witnesses.”
“You can have what's under my skirt, Billy.” Bonnie managed to choke the words out in spite of the strength of his grip. She reached under her skirt, but there was no purse in her hand when she pulled it out again. By the time Billy realized it was a derringer, he was already on his way to hell, shot in the heart. In reflex, he was able to pull the trigger on his .44, but Bonnie had ducked and the bullet embedded harmlessly in the side of the coach.
The sudden gunfire triggered an explosive response that, even though it lasted no more than a minute, had everybody running for cover. In the ensuing chaos, the horses bolted, those pulling the stage, as well as those the outlaws rode. All Mutt could say for sure was that he heard Adam's Henry rifle barking out round after round as he tried to control his frightened team as they tried to gallop away. On the ground an instant after Bonnie's shot, Adam pulled Ethel out of the way of one of the outlaws' horses and yelled for Potter to hit the ground. Bullets were flying, but the only casualty among the passengers was a grazed shoulder on Henry Murphy and the cut on Potter's face. When the shooting was over, there were four bodies on the ground, one of them Billy Crabtree's. Two surviving outlaws were already out of rifle range as they ran for their lives. One of them was the one called Jesse, his black hat lying on the ground with a bullet hole through the crown.