Ralph Compton One Man's Fire

Chapter 1

Wyoming Territory, 1883

The wagon was supposedly secured against any attempt to rob it. At least, that’s what was said by all the men hired to protect it before it had left Omaha. Enough iron plates were fixed to the sides to make it necessary to add an additional pair of horses to the team pulling the monster on wheels. Slits had been crudely cut into the plates so any of the three men riding inside could fire at anyone foolish enough to approach the wagon without permission. The man who might grant such a boon rode up top in a seat partly surrounded by a thick wooden shell that wrapped around the driver’s back and sides. Another man sat beside the driver, carrying a shotgun that had been stored among several other weapons in the box at the driver’s feet. Strictly speaking, the wagon should have been close to impenetrable. To the young man gazing down at it from atop a ridge south of the trail, it was a big fat egg dying to be cracked apart.

What do you think, Eli? another man asked from behind the younger one. He had a thickly muscled torso wrapped in a duster that had been with him through more hard days than most men saw in a lifetime. Dark brown eyes gazed out from behind narrowed lids set within a heavily scarred face that looked like something a goat had chewed up and spat out. It was difficult to discern which dark streaks on his chin and cheeks were dirt and which were wiry stubble.

The younger man kept a pair of field glasses close to eyes that were the color of a sky smeared with mist from an approaching storm. His voice had a faraway quality when he replied, I think I can take her.

A second pair of anxious men crouched behind the first two, and hearing that didn’t do anything to alleviate their situation. The bigger fellow with the dirty face waved back at them as if he were shooing away a pair of annoying hound dogs. Either one of you messes this up, he snarled, and I’ll use yer carcasses to trip up the team pulling that wagon.

Both of the other men settled down quick enough.

You sure we can take that thing? the scarred man asked. Looks like a rolling fortress.

Eli lowered his field glasses to get a look at the wagon with his own eyes. Smiling at what he saw, he said, You brought me along this far, Jake. You about to stop trusting me now?

Ain’t about trust. It’s about a job that we can or can’t do. I won’t charge into a slaughter just so you can scratch that itch you always got for stealing.

That itch has served this gang pretty well so far.

Sure has, one of the men farther down the rise said. He was definitely older than Eli, but carried himself like the youngest of the bunch. A wide, round head made his eyes look more like holes knocked into a pumpkin with a roofing nail. White knuckles were wrapped around a Spencer rifle, and every muscle in that arm trembled at the prospect of putting the weapon to use.

Shut up, Cody, Jake snapped. When I want your opinion, you’ll know about it. Once Cody was sufficiently cowed, the scarred man hunkered down and gazed down at the trail where the wagon was still rolling. How many men you think are on that thing?

There’s two up front, Eli said. Couldn’t tell you for certain how many are inside.

Hank?

The fourth man in the group was the most raggedy of them all. He resembled a scarecrow thanks to his wiry build as well as the tattered clothes he wore. Even his long hair was stringy enough to look more like strands of wet straw plastered onto his scalp. Three guns were strapped under his arms and at his hip. For all Eli knew, Hank could have had three more besides the .44, .45, and derringer. Ever since he’d lost his left eye, he seemed one twitch away from gunning down anyone in his sight. That twitchiness made it awfully hard for anyone to sneak up on him, and he prided himself on being able to get to anyone before he could be hurt again. Those things made him a perfect spy. There’s five in all, he said with absolute certainty. If you see two up front, that leaves three in the wagon.

You’d stake our lives on it? Jake asked. Because that’s what we’d be doing.

I watched them load up myself.

Jake showed Eli an ugly grin and slapped the younger man on the shoulder. All right, then. I suppose we should get moving before all the money in that wagon gets away.

Eli looked down at the trundling wagon as if it were a fat, limping goose on Christmas Eve. No danger of that. We’d be able to hear it from a mile away even if we did let it get out of our sight.

How much money are we talking about again? Cody asked.

Jake was looking down at the wagon hungrily as he told him, At least twenty thousand. You hear any different, Hank?

The scarecrow man shrugged. They loaded up a few strongboxes. If I could get into them things, we wouldn’t need the young’un.

Patting the youngest member of the gang once more on the shoulder, Jake said, That’s right. Eli here can crack open the Devil’s own coin purse. Ain’t that so?

Yeah, Eli said. It is.

Neither Jake nor any of the other men in the gang knew for certain whose money was down there. They’d heard rumors of a bank shipping funds to cover a payroll or provide a loan to a large customer with deep pockets, but none of them had cared enough to ferret out the truth. There were even rumors that some businessman was shipping a bribe to a politician, but when there was a large batch of cash involved, speculations were bound to arise. Those fires were stoked even higher when that money was ferried about in a rolling spectacle like a crudely armored wagon. More than likely, the money was just a payroll being shipped by a company that had been robbed one too many times already. All most of the gang cared about was that the money was inside the wagon and there was lots of it.

But there was a different kind of glint in Eli’s eyes when he stared down at that trail. It was a dull, yet intense thing that hinted at a hotter fire deep beneath his surface. Yeah, he said. Let’s get moving.

The gang mustered like a disciplined army regiment. They kept low so as not to skyline themselves before enough of the ridge was between them and the men riding on the wagon below. When it was safe to move faster, they broke into a run toward the horses that were tethered to trees nearby. Having already scouted out the area while waiting for the wagon to roll by, all of the men knew their way down the narrow path around the ridge, through a stand of trees, and across a short stretch of bushes that had been turned into scorched brambles by an unforgiving sun.

It was no surprise for Jake to fire the first shot, and when Hank joined in, Eli’s world became a mush of cacophonous sound. Despite the horse’s jostling movement, he kept his eyes locked on the wagon. Even as the animal wove between pits left by deep puddles or jumped over a fallen tree, Eli kept his eyes glued to the wagon. As soon as the ground in front of him leveled out, he snapped his reins and rode ahead of his outlaw pack.

You two move around to the other side of that contraption! Jake shouted. I’ll see to it the kid don’t get himself killed!

Cody and Hank peeled away to circle around the back of the wagon. Compared to the horses that had swarmed around it, the iron-encrusted vehicle might as well have been standing still. It was far from defenseless, however, as rifle barrels poked out from the slits in its side to spout smoke and lead at the gang. Bullets hissed through the air past Eli’s head, causing him to duck down as if that would be enough to keep him safe for the remainder of the journey. Before the rifle rounds could get any closer, they were diverted toward a greater threat.

Howling like a mad dog, Jake gripped his reins in one hand and a .44 Smith & Wesson in the other. Rather than fire wildly at the wagon, he gazed along the top of his barrel as if he had all the time in the world to take his shot. When he squeezed his trigger, sparks flew from the edge of one of the slits in the wagon’s armor and angry curses echoed within. More shots cracked through the air on the other side of the wagon as the second half of the gang was greeted by another batch of riflemen. Eli tapped his heels against his horse’s sides and surged forward as the spark in his eyes grew to a roaring flame.

Bring this thing to a halt! Jake bellowed.

The driver responded with a barking command directed at his team. The horses pounded their hooves against the rocky ground even harder as leather straps slapped against their backs. The shotgunner emerged from behind the wooden barricade atop the wagon like a target in a shooting gallery to unleash a smoky payload from one barrel and then the other. Jake had already veered away from the wagon by the time hot lead ripped through the air, and he fired at the shotgunner, clipping his shoulder and spinning him around to collide with the driver. Both men wobbled atop the wagon before becoming entangled in the reins. Once that happened, the team was pulled to the right, causing the entire wagon to lurch.

Eli was close enough to see in through one of the rifle slits by now. When the man behind the weapon poking out through the opening looked his way, Eli had plenty of time to grab hold of the rifle and yank it from him. He could have taken it away completely if the slit had been just a bit wider. As it was, the rifle clanged against iron while the man inside struggled to regain control of it. The driver’s predicament caused the rattling iron monstrosity to swing away from Eli, taking the rifle barrel from his grasp and causing something of a panic for Hank and Cody on the other side.

Jake fired two more shots before snarling, Bring this thing to a stop or I will! Although the driver had gotten his team pointed in the right direction again, the wagon had slowed to something slightly better than a crawl. This allowed Jake to grab on to a post at the front corner of the wagon as if he meant to hop from his saddle and onto the driver’s lap.

With the blood pounding through his veins amid the hammering rhythm of his heart, Eli felt as if he were charging down the trail at a breakneck speed instead of keeping pace with a wagon that was barely moving at all. Now that Jake had gotten under the driver’s skin, the wagon slowed even more. The riflemen inside were still ready for a fight, but were preoccupied by Cody and Hank. That meant Eli was able to get back to the slit on his side a second after the rifle barrel poked through it again. Still rattled from his last confrontation as well as the unpredictable movements of the wagon itself, the rifleman on Eli’s side pulled his trigger before he even had a target.

No bullet chewed through Eli’s skull, but a mighty loud screech pealed through his ears. Apart from his hammering pulse and the dull thump of his own horse’s hooves against the ground, he couldn’t hear a thing. And yet, not so much as a hint of panic showed on his face as he pointed one of his .38s at the rifle slit and shouted at the man on the other side. Eli only had a vague idea of what he said, but it was enough to get the man to relinquish his grip on the weapon.

The wagon came to a halt and the gang surrounded it like a pack of dogs vying for the biggest chunk of a discarded hunk of meat. Eli was still mostly deaf as he came up alongside the wagon and stared in through the slit. His eyes were searching for one thing, but found another as all three men within the armored box turned to face him. The pair that had been dealing with Cody and Hank still held their rifles and the man on Eli’s side had gotten to the pistol holstered at his hip. They all looked through the slit back at Eli and struggled to get their weapons pointed in his direction. From the corner of one eye, Eli could see the shotgunner on top of the wagon swing his weapon around to aim at him.

For that brief instant, Eli felt as if he’d drifted outside his own skin to watch everything from afar. Even if his ears hadn’t been ravaged by the close-range gunshot, he doubted he would have been able to hear much of anything. He recalled folks talking about something like that when they’d been about to die. Their bodies drifted up and everything got real quiet. It was said to have been peaceful. As far as Eli could tell, he was about to find out firsthand.

Just as well, he figured.

Once more, the gang acted like a well-oiled machine. Jake brought the shotgunner down with one shot while Hank stuck the barrel of a .44 in through a slit on the other side of the wagon and pulled his trigger. The gunshot sounded like a muffled thump to Eli’s tortured ears, and the bullet rattled around inside the wagon like a pebble being shaken in a tin can. All three riflemen flopped onto their sides or bellies in their haste to clear a path for the bullet or any more that might be following on its heels. Even Eli could make out the dull murmur of those men’s excited voices, but he couldn’t see any blood. When he felt the rough hand slap down on his shoulder, Eli twisted around while bringing his pistol up to bear.

Jake took his hand away and stepped back. His other hand kept his .44 pointed up at the driver while Cody made his way to the top of the wagon. Although Eli couldn’t make out the words coming from Jake’s mouth, there was no mistaking the victory etched into the gang leader’s smile.

Chapter 2

The wagon was stopped, the men driving or protecting it had been disarmed and tied up, the dust had settled, and yet not everyone in Jake’s gang was happy. Throughout the entire process of steering the wagon off the trail so it could be detained and searched without being interrupted by any random passersby, Hank had been glaring at Eli as if he meant to bore through the other man’s skull using nothing more than mean intentions. When Eli emerged from the wagon with a strongbox in his hands, he was grinning from ear to ear. Hank’s reaction couldn’t have been more different.

What is wrong with you, boy? Hank snarled.

The wagon driver and riflemen had been tied with their ropes laced between the spokes of one of the front wheels. Jake stood with one foot propped on the driver’s shoulder in a casual show of dominance while using his bandanna to rub some of the grit from his face. Leave him alone. He did real good back there.

Yeah. Real good at almost getting killed!

What concern is that of yours? Eli asked without taking his eyes from the prize in his hands.

Hank’s one good eye twitched as he surged forward to bump against the strongbox in Eli’s grasp. If you get killed in the middle of a job, that puts things into confusion. It leaves us one man short and gives these ones here a chance to get a leg up on us.

Looking toward the men tied to the wheels, Eli asked, You were worried about them getting over on you? And here I thought you were so dangerous with all those guns you carry.

I am! And don’t you forget it.

Sure. That’s why you flew off the handle and started firing into that wagon like it was a barrel full of fish. The plan was to keep some men alive so’s they could be questioned in case we need help getting to the money.

If you need so much help getting to the money, Hank grunted, then I don’t see why we brought you along.

Come on, now, boys, Jake said after stuffing his bandanna into a pocket. This is a happy occasion. Everything went just fine.

Hank’s eye shifted back toward Eli. No thanks to him. Didn’t you get a look at his face when he poked his nose into that wagon? It’s like he didn’t care about catching a bullet.

He was just trying to see what we were up against. Ain’t that right, Eli?

Transfixed by the process of gently setting down the strongbox and running his fingers along the mechanism that kept it shut, Eli could barely spare enough time or effort to nod.

See? Jake said.

But Hank wasn’t appeased. We’re supposed to work together on the jobs we do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t need to be a part of any gang. If one man gets it into his head that he don’t care about livin’ or dyin’, he does foolish nonsense like what we saw today. Too much foolishness when lead is flyin’ puts all of us in danger. The kind of danger no man walks away from.

Jake took his foot down and watched Eli carefully. He looked over to Cody, but that one simply shook his big head at him and continued tending to the horses. We handled things just fine.

Eli’s eyes widened when he said, I know how to get this open.

Hearing that made Jake forget about almost everything that had come before. That’s what I’m talking about! Crack it open, boy!

Eli worked with the speed and precision of a crazed watchmaker. His gaze was focused on the strongbox’s lock as if there were nothing else with him in the world. His hands worked feverishly, occasionally bumping his fingers together but never making a mistake. When he needed a different tool, he reached over to where he’d laid the pouch containing them without having to look away from the iron puzzle of gears, latches, and bars. It was another few minutes before the lock budged, every second of which passed without a sound coming from anything besides the horses or the wind. Even the prisoners knew better than to speak up. They’d only known Jake Welles for a short amount of time, but that was enough to be certain they didn’t want any of his undivided attention.

Almost got it, Eli muttered more to himself than to any of the outlaws gathering around him. By the time the final tumbler fell into place, even Cody was staring down at him intently. Eli set his tools aside so he could place both hands upon the lid of the strongbox. With just a few subtle movements, he could tell that gravity was indeed the only thing keeping it closed.

Go on, Jake prodded. Let’s get a look.

One of the prisoners cleared his throat and started to speak, but was cut short when Jake wheeled around to bark at him in a vicious noise that could have been hacked up from a wolf’s throat. Turning back around to look at the strongbox, Jake still resembled more of a hungry animal than a man.

Shifting so his back was to the wagon and the front of the strongbox was pointed directly at him, Eli eased the lid up so his were the first eyes to see what lay inside. Wincing at what he found, he flipped the lid all the way up so the most possible sunlight was cast into the iron container.

What in the hell? Jake grunted.

Hank chuckled while nodding with grim self-satisfaction.

Cody leaned forward and took another longer glance before muttering, It’s empty.

You don’t think I can see that? Jake snapped.

But…it ain’t supposed to be empty, is it?

Jake’s eyes narrowed into fiery slits as he said, No. It isn’t.

Eli picked up the strongbox, felt inside, and then turned it around so he could examine it from all angles. Maybe there’s a false bottom.

Yeah, Hank chuckled. I’m sure that’s what it is.

Eli closed his eyes, ran his fingers along the interior of the box, and then did the same for the exterior. When he stood up, he weighed the box in his hands and then let it drop. As he stomped toward the wagon, he passed the prisoners tied to their respective wheels. Although the bound men reacted as if they’d been scalded by hot water, Eli didn’t cast so much as a glance at them. When he emerged from the wagon holding another strongbox, the driver stammered, I…I tried to tell you before.

Once again, Eli closed his eyes so he could weigh the box in his hands using nothing but his remaining senses to tell him what he needed to know. The result he came to didn’t bring him any comfort. This one’s empty too, he said while looking to the driver as if the man had just sprouted from the ground. Isn’t it?

Y…yes. That’s what I m…meant to—

The driver was cut short by a laugh that was hacked up from Hank’s throat like a fetid chunk of the previous night’s supper. Ain’t that just the way?

Eli threw the strongbox down with enough force to put a dent into the ground. I suppose you knew all about this, Hank?

Nope. You’re the big expert when it comes to cracking safes and the like.

And you’re the man we’re supposed to trust when it comes to gathering information. How come you didn’t know about this?

I was told to watch the men piling into that wagon so we’d know how many guns we’d be facing. I did my part.

Yeah, Cody grunted. He did his part.

Shifting his focus to the simpleminded outlaw, Eli said, If we need to know about saddle soap or picking our teeth, we’ll ask you. Until then, shut your trap!

A single gunshot blasted through the air, causing the prisoners to tuck their heads in close to their chests and the three outlaws to turn while reflexively reaching for their pistols.

You all through with your bickering? the gang leader asked as he holstered the gun he’d just fired.

Eli turned his back