California Crackdown

4

Fargo found a cheap hotel off to one side of town. He didn’t want to go back to where he and Cain had stayed last time. He needed to hide and to rest. He didn’t want Sarah Brant or anyone else to know he had survived just yet.

He barely remembered dropping on the bed and the next thing he knew the sun was burning through his eyelids. The town outside the window was slowly coming alive with the sounds of morning activity.

He eased himself up out of bed, wincing at the pain. It felt as if a cattle stampede had run over his body. He checked the wound on his shoulder where the bullet had gone in and then used a mirror to check the wound on his back where the bullet had left him. Neither wound had bled through the bandages, so for the moment he didn’t need to go back to the doctor.

He carefully moved his left shoulder around, feeling for any restriction in movement. Other than the pain from pulling on the wounds, it seemed that the doctor had been right and he had been lucky. The bullet hadn’t ripped any muscle or smashed any bone. It had just gone through him. In a week he wouldn’t even notice it much, besides the two new scars.

What he wished he could do was head back to Placerville, see if his good friend had survived, and let Anne tend to him in that big, soft feather bed of hers.

But that would come soon enough. Right now he had a score to settle. And he had to find Daniel.

He eased on a clean shirt that didn’t have blood and bullet holes, then buckled his Colt back to his hip and headed out. After a quick stop to check on the Ovaro, he headed for Marshal Davis’s office, keeping his hat down low over his eyes to try to avoid anyone recognizing him. At least one of the bushwhackers was in town somewhere and for the moment he wanted them thinking he might be dead, along with Cain. It would make them bolder and more careless in whatever play they were making for Cain’s mine.

The marshal actually seemed glad to see him, and a little worried. “You all right? One of Cain’s men said you were wounded.”

“Took one in the shoulder,” Fargo said, “but I’ve had worse.”

Marshal Davis nodded. “Sorry to hear about Cain. He was a good man.”

Fargo glanced around to make sure no one was in the jail who could overhear the conversation. He trusted his sense about this man, and he knew this marshal’s reputation. The man could be trusted.

“Cain was shot, but he may not be dead just yet,” Fargo said. “I don’t honestly know. I sent him with one of his men to hide in a hotel in Placerville. I don’t know if he made it or not, but I figured it was the better hand to play, letting the bushwhackers think he was dead.”

The marshal looked confused. “Why?”

Fargo spent the next few minutes telling the marshal everything he knew about Henry and Sarah Brant, and all the details, including Daniel’s presence among the robbers.

“The kid’s using the neighbor’s mine to make a play on his father,” the marshal said, clearly disgusted.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Fargo said. “Before he joined in with the Brants, Daniel was a good kid. A little gold hungry, but still a good kid. I think Sarah Brant is the one pulling his strings.”

“Henry Brant is known for cutting corners and taking shortcuts. And I’ve heard his mine is starting to play out. It would make sense he’s using the kid.”

“I heard the same thing about the mine,” Fargo said. “And there are rumors that they’re digging underground toward Cain’s tunnels. But to confirm all that, I have to find Daniel.”

“If he’s still alive,” Marshal Davis said. “If Henry Brant thinks that Cain is dead, it would be simple to kill Daniel and take over the Cain mine.”

“My thinking exactly,” Fargo said. That was his biggest worry outside of Cain living. Daniel didn’t have a very long life ahead of him if Fargo didn’t get this cleared up.

“So what can I do to help?” Marshal Davis asked.

Fargo had been hoping the marshal would ask that question. “I’ve got some ore to recover, so I could really use your help looking through town for Daniel, if you know what he looks like.”

“I’ve met him. You think he’s here?”

“I’m not sure, but one of the robbers left the wagon and came into town. I’m guessing it was Daniel. If I don’t find him with the gold, he’s either here or already dead.”

“What do you want us to do with him if we find him?”

“Don’t arrest him,” Fargo said. “That would tip them off to what you know. Just keep an eye on him until I get back and can work some truth out of the kid.”

“You got it,” the marshal said. Then he smiled. “Your men are down at the Mine Shaft Saloon near the river. You need a few more men to go with you on your recovery operation? I could spare a few to join you. I wouldn’t mind coming along myself, to be honest.”

Fargo shook his head. “No, thanks. This one is personal. I’m going to go it alone. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Can’t say as I blame you, Fargo,” the marshal said. “Good hunting.”

Two hours later, after a good breakfast, Fargo turned south at the intersection off the Placerville road, once again following the wagon tracks.

Three miles south of Sacramento, the tracks turned off the main trail and headed back east and into a deep valley coming down out of the mountains. There was no doubt that this trail dead-ended up this valley. The trail had obviously been seldom used, so it would have almost no traffic. Fargo had to respect the choice of a hideout by the robbers. It was close enough to town and the Placerville road, yet isolated and easy to defend and guard.

Fargo veered off the trail and took the Ovaro up a ridge, moving slowly and carefully, following game trails that ran along the valley sides.

An hour later he found what he was looking for. Near where the canyon turned into a box canyon against three steep walls of rocks, a wisp of smoke from a fire drifted above the trees.

From that camp there was only one way out. It was a camp that was easy to defend from attack, but it also made Fargo’s job a lot easier. He had them trapped like rats in a water barrel.

He left his horse in a safe place, then with his heavy carbine in hand, he scouted the area around the camp.

There looked to be three men in the camp. Daniel was not one of the men. Fargo had been right that it had been Daniel who had gone into Sacramento. Fargo just hoped the marshal and his men could find him and protect the stupid kid.

At the moment the men were standing around the campfire, drinking coffee. Cain’s wagon sat near where they had tied the horses, and it was still loaded with the gold. Clearly, this was just a stopover point until someone told them what to do with their loot.

They realized too late that they’d been joined by a fierce-looking man with a Henry and a real unfriendly voice.

One of the men started to go for his gun but his friend said, “Don’t be stupid, Dave.”

“I want the guns pitched as far as you can throw ’em. Then I want your boots off and I want you to toss them too. Far as they’ll go.”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Nobody important. But you killed somebody important, at least to me. So just be thankful I don’t shoot you bastards down right here and now.”

The harsh words made them move quicker. They bitched and moaned of course—it was humiliating, throwing away your guns and boots—but they did it.

When that was done, Fargo said, “Now hitch up the horses. I’m taking the wagon.”

“They’ll think we took it,” one of them complained.

“I’d say that’s your problem, not mine. Now get it done.”

A mile beyond where the men had camped, Fargo found a place to pull the wagon off into some cover behind some rocks so it couldn’t be seen from the trail. He tied up the horses and then went back for his own horse.

He tied the Ovaro to the rear of the wagon. When he got back to the main trail, instead of turning back north, he went south away from Sacramento. It would be a good ten miles out of the way to circle around and back into town that way, but that was better than taking a chance of meeting any of the Brant men coming for the gold.

Right now it was better to let Brant and his people think that his men had been robbed of the ore they had robbed from Cain. It might give Daniel another day of life.

Maybe.

He got the gold into the bank before it closed and then told Marshal Davis where he could find the robbers. So far, the marshal had had no luck finding Daniel, but as he said, most of his men didn’t know what Cain’s son looked like.

“We’ll find him,” Fargo said. He thanked the marshaland then headed to where Cain’s two men should be waiting for him.

He found them both sitting in the Mine Shaft Saloon at a corner table, their backs to the wall. They both had drinks in front of them, but it was clear they were too worried to drink much. A deck of cards lay on the table between them, but no cards were dealt.

One was a solid middle-aged man with a wide mustache. His name was Jim. The other was Walt. From this angle, he looked like he could bend a railroad spike with his bare hands. Cain had told Fargo that both men were good in a fight and both had ridden the range at times. Fargo had a good feeling about them.

As Fargo entered the run-down saloon, both had their hats pulled low over their eyes. But when they recognized him, they jumped up and pushed their hats back, smiling. Patience and waiting were clearly not their strong suits.

“How ya doin’?” Jim asked as Fargo approached the table.

“Are we going after them?” Walt asked.

“Doing fine,” Fargo said, indicating that the men should follow him out to the street. “Doctor said I would live. And I already took care of the robbers and Cain’s gold is delivered and where it belongs.”

“Fargo, the stories they tell about you don’t go anywhere near far enough,” Jim said, shaking his head.

Fargo didn’t want to ask just what tales Jim had heard.

“Damn,” Walt said. “We missed all the fun.”

“I have a feeling the fun is just beginning,” Fargo said. “If you call men getting shot fun.”

“If the man deserves to be shot, yeah I do,” Walt said.

Fargo glanced at the strong kid and said nothing.

“Any news about Cain?” Jim asked.

“Nothing,” Fargo said. “We’ll find out soon enough. Right now we have to find Daniel.”

“He was part of the bunch that robbed us and shot his father,” Walt said, his words showing his disgust and anger. “I couldn’t believe it, but he was. I had a clear shot at him and didn’t take it. Wish I had now.”

“I had a clear shot as well,” Fargo said. “Daniel may have had reasons for what he did, or maybe he was duped by Sarah Brant. We have to find him and find out. He’s in town somewhere. Or at least he was yesterday.”

“I’ve heard stories about that Brant woman,” Jim said as they reached the sidewalk and Fargo led them toward the center of town. “They say her mother left because of her.”

“I was warned to stay out of her clutches because she liked to cut off men’s privates,” Walt said, shuddering. “But everyone says she’s a looker.”

“I met her once,” Fargo said. “And I don’t doubt either story. And if Daniel was wrapped up in her charms, there’s no telling what he would have done for her. But right now we’ve got to find him.”

“Mind if I pound some sense into him if I find him?” Jim asked.

“Yes, I do mind,” Fargo said. “You find him, either of you, and you come and get me. My gut tells me this kid is in danger. We have to find him before they do, now that they think his father is dead.”

“I sure hope he’s not,” Walt said.

Fargo couldn’t do anything but agree with that. He wasn’t letting himself think about Cain dying.

When Fargo reached a general store close to the center of town, he told Walt to go south along Main, checking out every hotel and saloon. “Ask the desk clerks if Daniel Parker has checked in.”

Fargo sent Jim north doing the same thing.

“I’m going to check some of the brothels,” Fargo said.

“You get all the good jobs,” Walt said, smiling.

“Just had more experience in those places,” Fargo said. “We meet right back here in an hour. And remember, don’t let him see you if you can help it. Just come and find me. Don’t do anything to spook him.”

Both men nodded. Fargo left first. Before Walt and Jim separated, Walt said, “Not everybody’s gonna believe us.”

“Believe us about what?” Jim said.

“Working with Fargo. The Trailsman.”

Jim laughed. “You’re probably right. I met a newspaperman once—he told me he didn’t think that Fargo even existed.”

“I’ll bet some of it’s exaggerated, though,” Walt said.

“Some is. But not by Fargo. People just like to have heroes and they make up things about them.”

“One thing I heard was that he fought two black bears at a time.”

Jim laughed. “I’m pretty sure that didn’t happen.”

“Another thing I heard was that down in Louisiana he killed an alligator with his bare hands.”

“Now that one I know is true. Met a man who actually saw it.”

“But he ain’t—I mean, he could still be killed.”

“Sure he could. Just like us.”

“He’s prob’ly been up against tougher men than Brant before.”

“Tougher, maybe. But not any greedier.”

Walt nodded agreement and the men went on their separate ways.

After three times out and back, none of them had had any luck, so Fargo bought them all lavish steak-and-potato dinners. If Cain lived, he wouldn’t mind feeding the men who were trying to save his son. And if he didn’t live, he wouldn’t care that Fargo had spent his money.

In the three hours, Fargo had personally visited more than a dozen brothels, been propositioned by a dozen women, and been tossed out of one house by a madam who knew him from Denver. He had helped one of her girls get away from her to marry a grocer who was headed west. It seemed the madam still held a grudge and could handle a very large Colt.

Both Walt and Jim complained about their feet hurting and how they hadn’t realized just how big Sacramento had become. Fargo was surprised at that as well. He’d always thought of Sacramento as a bustling but fairly small city.

After dinner they headed back out.

Two hours later Fargo found Daniel sitting in the front parlor of a brothel. He was drunk, so drunk that he could hardly move. It was clear he had been flashing money around like he had more than enough of it. And Daniel’s money was like honey to the girls, who took turns sitting on his lap, kissing him, giving him more drinks, and relieving him of his money.

Fargo walked into the parlor and pushed one girl gently aside before yanking Daniel to his feet. “You’re coming with me, kid.”

“Hey,” protested the madam, a large woman with enormous breasts that seemed to want to escape from her low-cut sheer robe in a thousand different directions. “You can’t go taking my customers.”

“Yeah,” Daniel said, trying to pull away from Fargo’s grasp. “Who are you anyway?”

“I work for your father,” Fargo said, then solidly punched Daniel square in the nose, sending blood gushing and the kid slumping, out cold. More than likely he hit the kid a little harder than he needed to, but he was still damn angry at Daniel.

Fargo held Daniel up and fished for the kid’s money, tossing the entire wad of bills to the madam. “Sorry for the mess and the problem,” Fargo said. “The kid’s now broke.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the madam said as the bills vanished into the massive canyon that was her cleavage.

Fargo tossed Daniel up over his good shoulder and went out the door held open by one of the girls, ignoring the looks from passersby as he headed back to where he was to meet Jim and Walt.

He propped Daniel up on a bench and wiped some of the blood from his face while he waited. The kid was still out cold and likely would be until he slept off all the booze.

Fargo sat down beside the kid, watching everyone on the street. It had been a long day and the wounds in his shoulder were aching again. He could use a good night’s sleep as well.

When Walt and Jim finally arrived, Fargo had Walt carry Daniel back to the Mine Shaft Saloon. The hotel attached to the saloon was where they had stayed and left their gear, expecting to return tonight. They put Daniel on the floor in their room and tied him securely to the large metal-framed bed.

Fargo got his own room, then went back to see if the kid was awake yet. It was no surprise that he wasn’t.

“Take turns guarding him. And make sure he doesn’t get away. He’s got a lot of talking to do tomorrow. I’m in the room next door.”

For the second night, the moment Fargo lay down on the bed he was out like someone had snuffed a candle. The rays of the sun the next morning woke him.

This morning his shoulder felt a little better. He checked under one bandage and then pulled it off. The doc had stitched both wounds and they looked like they were healing just fine. He started to put on his shirt when he realized the heavy stitches would catch on the cloth. He quickly taped the bandage back on. Maybe a couple more days and he could again wear a shirt without it. Maybe.

The room next door sounded like a factory going full tilt. All three men were snoring like it was a competition to see who could be the loudest. And to be honest, Fargo couldn’t tell.

Walt was in the chair, his pistol on his lap. Jim was on the bed, and Daniel was still tied up on the floor.

Fargo moved silently just inside the door and then slammed it behind him.

Walt came out of the chair, sending his gun spinning across the floor.

Jim jerked and rolled off the bed on the window side, coming up a moment later with his gun in his hand.

Daniel jerked upward and then was slammed back against the floor by the ropes holding him.

Fargo forced himself not to smile. “Good morning. I hope everyone slept well. I know I did.”

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Walt sheepishly moved to get his gun and Jim stood up, holstering his.

“Oh, my head hurts,” Daniel said, moaning. “And my nose. You broke my nose. And if someone doesn’t find me a bedpan or an outhouse real soon, there’s going to be a mess right here on the floor.” Then he looked at Fargo with sober recognition. “Now I recognize you from last night. You’re Fargo.”

“Untie him,” Fargo said, “and we’ll all take him out back just to make sure one of us stays awake.”

As Walt leaned over to untie him, Daniel recognized him too. Then he glanced over and recognized Jim. The kid who had been trying to show a strong face against the hangover and likely kidnappers suddenly broke down and cried like a girl.

“I didn’t know, I didn’t know,” he kept saying through the sobs.

Walt finished with the ropes and stepped back, glancing around at Fargo with a puzzled look on his face.

“Get him on his feet and out back,” Fargo said to both Jim and Walt.

They yanked up the sobbing man like he was a rag doll and half carried him out the door and down the hall toward the outhouse.

“What didn’t you know?” Fargo asked Daniel as they went through the back door. The alley was a small street lined down the center with a dozen outhouses serving the hotels on each side. No one else was in the alley at the moment, but there was no way of telling if there was someone in one of the narrow, wooden structures.

“That it was my father’s gold they were after,” Danielsobbed, tears flowing over his broken nose and making lines in the dried blood on his face. “I didn’t know. Sarah said it was from the Constitution mine. I’m pretty sure her father’s behind all this.”

“And that allows you to rob and kill men for gold?” Fargo asked, even more disgusted now at the sobbing boy. No wonder Sarah Brant could manipulate this kid. He was as weak and as stupid as they came.

Walt opened the outhouse door and Fargo shoved the kid inside really hard, slamming him into the back wood wall.

“Come out when you’re finished and can stand on your own two feet and be a man.”

Fargo looked first at Jim, then at Walt. “Both of you stay here and guard him. And if he tries to escape, shoot him.”

“Gladly,” Walt said.

Jim only nodded, but clearly didn’t disagree with Walt.

“When he’s finished, take him back to the room and tie him up again. I’ll be back.”

With that, Fargo strode off toward Marshal Davis’s office. He was so disgusted at the son of his good friend, he didn’t know what to do.

Fargo stamped up onto a wooden sidewalk and brushed past two men. He needed to calm down and think straight. And the best way to do that was to talk to the marshal and find out if he had any more information about the men in that box canyon yesterday.

He knew it was Sarah Brant and her father behind all this. Daniel had told him that much.

“Fargo, you sure made a lot of enemies up there when you made those men throw away their boots and guns,” the marshal laughed as Fargo entered the office.

“Just doing my civic duty, Marshal,” Fargo said. “You station a couple of men up there to watch for who comes up that trail?”

The marshal smiled real big. “Actually, didn’t need to. They arrived while we were still there. Two men, both foremen at the Brant mine, rode right into our trap just easy as could be.”

“Are they talking?”

“Nope, not yet. They’re claiming they were just on the wrong trail and lost. We’re going to hold them until the circuit court rides through here next week. I figured I might as well let a judge decide what to do with them and keep them out of the coming fight.”

Fargo nodded. This man was not stupid. He had been in the West as long as Fargo had and knew what a battle between two major mines was like. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“So, you find Daniel?”

“Yup,” Fargo said, the anger at the kid coming back. “In a brothel, drunk as a skunk. We sobered him up and he started crying like a little girl, claiming he didn’t know it was his father’s wagon full of gold.”

“What, he thought he was out riding for fun or something?”

“Claimed he thought they were after the Constitution’s gold. Claimed that Sarah Brant had told him that.”

“Robbing and killing for a woman,” Marshal Davis said, shaking his head in disgust. “There’s nothing new under the sun, is there?”

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Fargo said.

“So, you want to bring him in and let him cry here in jail and point some fingers? It might save a fight up in Placerville.”

“I honestly don’t know what I want to do with the kid,” Fargo said. “I feel like I owe my friend Cain to take care of his son and get him back to his father. But Cain may just turn him over to you anyway. If Cain is still alive, he’s going to be as disgusted as I am. This kid was involved in robbing his own father’s gold and killing his men. I can’t imagine Cain allowing that to stand and be forgotten.”

“Knowing Cain, I can’t either,” Marshal Davis said. “But to be honest, if Cain is dead, I’d want to take Daniel up into the hills and put a bunch of bullets in his arms and legs while he tries to crawl away.”

Fargo looked at the marshal and then laughed. “I knew I liked you for a reason, Marshal.”

They both laughed. Then the marshal said, “Well, let me know what you do with him. But keep in mind that this area has tamed down enough that there is real law here these days that sometimes gets the job done.”

Fargo stuck out his hand and shook the marshal’s firm grip. “Just as long as we get justice, that’s all I care about.”

As Fargo opened the door, the sound of gunfire broke over the city from the direction of Fargo’s hotel. His gut told him that it had to do with Daniel.

He glanced back at the marshal, then took off at a run, the marshal after a moment pounding along right beside him, matching him stride for stride. Both of them had guns out of leather and both were ready to fight.

The gunfire lasted for less than twenty seconds and then there was silence before the normal sounds of the city filled back in. Fargo didn’t like the sound of that silence at all.

As he and the marshal rounded the corner to get behind the hotel, he saw Walt step from behind a large wooden container and stare at the outhouse, his gun still in his hand. A moment later, Jim came out the back door of the hotel, looking around cautiously, his gun still in his hand as well.

“What happened?” Fargo demanded as he got close.

Jim pointed at the open second-story window in the back of the hotel across the narrow street filled with outhouses. And Walt pointed to the roofline of another building.

“They started firing before we had time to react,” Jim said. “There were four, maybe five of them. They had us in a cross fire.”

“Five,” Walt said. “We took cover and returned fire, but they didn’t seem to care about us. They just poured lead into the outhouse and then backed away as we fired back.”

“They were firing rifles,” Jim said. “Some of the shots were going clear through the outhouse and pounding into the dirt.”

Fargo didn’t want to open the bullet-riddled wooden outhouse, but he forced himself to.

Inside, Daniel had been sitting with his britches still up and his belt tied. His eyes were wide-open in surprise and red from crying. His shirt and pants were a mass of blood and holes. A moment after Fargo opened the door, Daniel fell forward into the dirt.

“There was nothing we could do,” Walt said.

“Yeah,” Jim said. “The kid just sat in there and cried and wouldn’t come out, right up to the moment they opened fire.”

The marshal spun around to a deputy who had just run up. “Get men guarding all the ways out of town. Look for a group of five men leaving on horseback.”

Fargo shook his head. “No use, Marshal. Those men are long gone. We’ll have to take care of them later.”

Fargo felt sorry all over again for his old friend Cain. If the man was still alive, he’d now have to hear that his son had been murdered.