Chapter Forty-seven
As livery stables went, the Blue Coyote was better than most.
It was a large, white-painted building with stalls for twenty horses, an attached tack room, and a blacksmith’s forge set up on flagstones. For the comfort of customers, there was a waiting room with a couch and chairs and the luxury of a two-holer outhouse in the back.
“Where the hell is the wagon?” Condor said. “It should be here by now.”
Ebenezer Cobham said, “Just a little longer now.”
“It’s four hours longer, damn you,” Condor said. “Can’t you find me another wagon?”
Cobham shook his head. “Freight wagons are hard to come by in Silver City. The big mining companies have all the independent hauling firms tied up and looking for more.”
John Gaudet, mean as a snake, sneered. “What are you afraid of, Condor?”
“I’m afraid of nothing,” Condor said. “But I want the hell away from here. The army is too damned close and I may have been followed.”
“I can take care of whoever is following you,” Gaudet said. “I ain’t sceered of no boogeymen.”
Condor’s mouth twisted in a feral snarl. “You be scared for yourself, Gaudet. I will only be pushed so far and you’re mighty close to my limit.”
The gunman was not intimidated. “I heard you were a pirate once, before you took to the outlaw life. Is that true?”
“That’s a damned lie. I was a trader,” Condor said.
Ebenezer Cobham had been listening to the exchange between the two gunmen. “What kind of trader?”
“Black slaves. I bought them cheap on the West African coast and sold them to the Arabs.”
“Was there money in that?” Cobham asked.
“Sure there was, once you figured a way to keep the blacks alive, or at least most of them.”
“If there was money in slave trading, why did you quit?” Gaudet’s sneer was a permanent fixture on his face, as though he’d been born with it. He probably had.
“The British, the Dutch, and the French navies began to sink slave ships on sight, even if there were blacks in the holds. Then the Americans joined in and the game was over.”
“Too bad,” Gaudet said.
“Yeah, wasn’t it?” Condor’s dislike for the little gunman was palpable.
“Now I understand why you’re so all-fired worried about the freight wagon,” Gaudet said. “You got nothing left.”
“You should be worried too, Gaudet,” Condor said. “If the wagon doesn’t show, I’ll have no need to keep you around any longer.”
“Is that a threat?” Gaudet shouldered off the wall of the livery office and laid his coffee cup on the desk.
“Take it any way you want.” Condor’s body tensed, ready.
“Keep that until later,” Cobham said. “We got a visitor and he don’t look happy.”
Silas Strangewayes scuttled like a crab toward the livery, a crooked man leaning on a crooked cane, a crooked scowl on his face.
Condor greeted him. “Why are you here? What the hell happened?”
“Two men happened,” Strangewayes said. “They invaded my office and forced me to tell them where you were. One of them—his name is Dallas, curse him—killed two of my men.”
“Dallas Steele.” Condor saw the shock of recognition in Gaudet’s pale face and took pleasure in it. “And I’m willing to bet the other is Jacob O’Brien.”
“O’Brien? The gunfighter out of the Glorieta Mesa country?” Gaudet said. “They say he always plays the piano before he kills a man.”
“That would be the one,” Condor said. “But don’t worry, Gaudet, there are no pianos around here.”
Gaudet was quiet for a few moments, then he said, “Hell, I can shade him.”
Condor smiled. “Yeah, sure you can.”
“Unless you can get rid of those two, Condor, the deal is off,” Strangewayes said. “I’ve already tried to explain away the corpses of my men in the street as the result of a robbery attempt, but I don’t think the law believes me.”
“I’ll kill Steele and O’Brien for you, Silas,” Condor said. “Now quit your bloody whining and calm down.”
“Don’t kill them here, damn it,” Strangewayes said. “Two more dead men is two too many. Louis Kennon is the deputy marshal here and he’s already got his suspicions, I swear it.”
“I’ll take care of him as well, if you want,” Condor offered.
“Leave Kennon be. Killing a lawman could bring nothing but trouble. Get O’Brien and the other one and that’s all. At least for now.”
“Consider it done.”
“Ride north out of the city. Lure them into the mountains a ways and then do for them.” The little man scowled at Condor. “Those two could be here soon. What the hell are you waiting for?”
“Just make sure the wagon is here when we get back, you old reprobate,” Condor said. “Or we’ll serve this town another dead man for breakfast.”
Strangewayes’ words lashed at Condor. “The wagon will be here. Any more threats from you and you’ll find yourself with a noose around your neck, you damned pirate.”
“You heard the boss, Condor,” Gaudet said, tensed. “Now shut your trap.”
“You want to shut it for me, Gaudet?”
“Here, enough of that!” Ebenezer Cobham stepped between the two gunmen. “You heard Silas. Be about your business.”
Condor nodded, his eyes cold on Gaudet. “Later.”
Gaudet smirked. “I’ll accommodate you any time you feel up to it”
That brought a sneer to Condor’s lips. “You damned idiot.”