“That a fact?” Joe asked, making sure.
“It is,” Johnny assured them.
“Hmmm,” Joe mused. “Seems like the Blackfoot have that same rule . . . or maybe it's the Crow. I forget.”
“Well, I'm Cheyenne,” Johnny told them, “and that's the way that we believe.”
“Then I guess I won't have to kill you either, Johnny Redman. What's your Cheyenne Indian name?”
“Stalking Wolf.”
“I'm gonna call you Wolf from now until we part,” Joe told the young half-breed. “You can call me either Joe or Man Killer.”
Wolf nodded. “And what do I call your woman?”
“Call her brave,” Joe said. “Now let's git outa this damned desert and settle the score in Virginia City.”
Wolf said, “I might still collect the bounty.”
“Oh?” Joe asked.
“But I will never do you or Fiona harm and I will never let you be harmed.”
“In that case,” Joe said, “you're a good wolf and we are friends.”
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The Paiutes had taken the strawberry roan, but they'd left the burro alone. When Joe, Fiona, and Wolf finally limped into Reno, they traded the faithful little burro for ammunition and a few meager supplies.
“Joe,” Wolf asked, “tell me what you know about the Comstock Lode. Is it a bad place?”
“It's about as sinful as they get,” Joe told the half-breed as they rode in a stagecoach up the winding and desolate mountain road leading to Virginia City.
“What is your plan?”
“Don't have one actually,” Joe admitted.
“I should have guessed that much,” Wolf said with a grin. “Maybe we should think of a plan before we get there.”
“Yes, Joe. Wolf is right,” Fiona said. “We ought to think of something.”
“All right,” Joe cheerfully agreed. “How about you two get Jessica and I go down to Peabody's Shamrock Mine and I kill him? After that, I'll join up with you two right here on the road back down to Reno.”
“No!” Fiona argued. “You can't go face Peabody all alone!”
“Sure I can,” Joe told them. “I can . . . and I will. This blood feud is between me and the last Peabody standing. We'll either make peace . . . or I'll suddenlike kill the rich sonofabitch.”
“That's a very good plan,” Wolf said as their stagecoach climbed the steep grade. “But I want the bounty and I'm going with you.”
“It could get unhealthful.”
“It could,” Wolf agreed as he patted the six-gun on his lean hip, “but I'll take my chances with you.”
“Fair enough,” Joe told the half-breed.
“Joe,” Fiona said. “Don't you think we ought to go to St. Mary's and see Jessica before . . . well, before you and Wolf go down to have it out with Peabody?”
“I would like to see that girl one last time . . . just in case things don't go well down at the Shamrock Mine. But it'd be easier on my mind to first have that showdown. That way, I'll only be thinkin' about killin' the man that sent bounty hunters off to get us hung.”
“I'll get a room at the Gold Strike Hotel at this end of C Street. I won't leave my room until you come back for me and Jessica.”
“See that you don't,” Joe warned her. “There are people here on the Comstock Lode who will remember you and make a try for that bounty money that's on your head.”
Joe hailed the stagecoach driver, and the man pulled his team up at the hotel. Fiona hugged and kissed Joe good-bye, and then she also hugged Wolf, saying, “You two watch each other's backs.”
“We will,” Wolf promised. “If we could survive two run-ins with Paiutes and that desert crossing, we'll do all right against Peabody and his friends.”
“I'll be waitin' and prayin' for both of you,” Fiona said, hurrying into the hotel without a backward look because she didn't want them to see her tears.
“You two leavin' that little woman and goin' on into Virginia City?” the driver asked.
“We are,” Joe said. “Actually, we're goin' over the Divide and down into Gold Hill.”
“I'm drivin' this stage right on through Gold Hill. What business you fellas got there?” the man asked.
“We got a settlin' business to take care of.”
“A what?”
“Never mind,” Wolf said. “Just take us over the Divide and drop us off in front of the Shamrock Mine. We have business with Mr. Garrison Peabody.”
“You fellas don't look like hard-rock miners to me. Besides, I don't believe that Peabody is hirin' right now.”
“We've come a long, hard way,” Joe growled. “Just quit the jawin' and drive us down to the Shamrock Mine.”
“All right, but you don't have to get scratchy about it!” the driver growled.
Once Joe and Wolf were back in the stagecoach and all by themselves, Wolf said, “Are we just going to go in there and get the drop on Peabody and his bunch?”
“That's the general idea,” Joe replied. “And then I'll ask the rich man real nice if he wants to step outside and settle this thing between us once and for all. Wolf, your job is to make sure that one of Peabody's men don't back-shoot me while I'm carvin' up their boss.”
“I can do that,” Wolf assured him.
The stagecoach made a short stop in Virginia City and took on a few passengers bound for Carson City. Joe and Wolf, faces cracked by wind and sun, bloodied, worn, and wounded by their desert trials, didn't even get a hello from the other passengers, who shrank as far away from them as possible.
“I guess maybe we should get a bath someday,” Wolf said with a half smile. “These good city folks are acting like we're smellin' pretty ripe, Joe.”
“Most likely because we are. But real soon, everything is about to change.”
“Amen,” Wolf replied, staring out the window at all the huge Comstock mines and wondering if he would even still be alive in one hour.
27
THE SHAMROCK MINE had been rebuilt after Joe Moss had blown it up with dynamite almost a year ago. Now the office was bigger, with clean windows and a large, impressive sign out in front. The hoisting works were all new, and the immense steam engines were thumping as they lowered and lifted men and ore from deep in the belly of Sun Mountain.
“It looks like they've rebuilt everything bigger and better since I blowed 'er all to smithereens,” Joe observed as he and Wolf stepped down from the stagecoach and tipped the driver two bits for taking them over the Divide.
“The sign out front says that they're not hiring today,” Wolf said, pointing.
“Yeah, I can read it,” Joe said, checking the gun on his hip. “Are you ready?”
“Ready as I'll ever be,” the half-breed told him.
“Then let's go in and get this bounty business settled once and for all.”
Joe opened the door and stepped into the big mining office. As he remembered from his last visit, there was a counter behind which were a roomful of desks and clerks at work, with a large private office in the back. On the door of the office were bold gold letters: GARRISON PEABODY, PRESIDENT.
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A clerk wearing an eyeshade left his desk and approached the front counter. “If you men are looking for work, then you'll have to keep looking because we aren't hiring.”
“I read that outside,” Joe said, eyes fixed on Peabody's private office, whose interior was blocked from view by the closed door. “Is the big boss in that office right now?”
“If you mean Mr. Peabody, then yes.”
“Good,” Joe said, moving around the counter to a little swinging gate and pushing right through it on his way toward the private office.
“Wait a minute there!” the clerk shouted as everyone looked up from their paperwork. “You can't go in there without an appointment!”
“But we are,” Wolf said, drawing his pistol and waving it at the roomful of staring clerks. “And I wouldn't advise anyone to try and stop us.”
Joe was already at the door of the office, and he threw it open to see a large, clean-shaven gentleman in his forties dressed in a very expensive suit sitting behind an enormous oak desk. The man looked up and started to say something, but Joe spoke first.
“I'm Joe Moss, the man you sent Ransom Holt to bring back dead or alive along with my wife, Mrs. Fiona Moss.”
Garrison Peabody's eyes grew wide with astonishment, and then he made a grab for a desk drawer, probably to reach a hideout pistol. But Joe was on him like a bird on a bug, and he kicked Peabody's swiveling desk chair into a full circle, and then he slapped the rich mine owner in his smooth, handsome face. The blow sounded like a shot, and Peabody was knocked out of his chair and against the wall.
“Stand up and let's finish this once and for all,” Joe shouted. “Fists, guns, or knives. It's your choice, but make up your mind fast.”
Peabody picked himself up and wiped his face. “You,” he hissed, eyes filled with hatred.
Wolf drew his six-gun and pointed it out at the outer office so that there would be no unwanted interference.
“What's it gonna be?” Joe demanded, raising his fists. “A beating or a killin'? Either way is fine with me so long as we put our feud to rest.”
Peabody rose to his full height and clenched his fists. Wolf had to give it to the rich mine owner; he wasn't some pampered coward frantically pleading for help from his employees.
Peabody lunged forward, swinging a hard right hand that, had it connected, would have sent Joe Moss staggering back into the large office. But Joe ducked and drove his own right hand into the rich man's gut, which proved soft. Peabody's mouth flew open and he gasped. Joe reared back and pounded a right cross that connected with Peabody's jaw, sending the rich man crashing to the floor.
“Get up!” Joe ordered. “You caused me and my wife more hardship and pain than I'll ever be able to put on you, but right now it's time for starters.”
Peabody struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on the desk. His face had turned pale and his eyes were glassy.
“Get your fists up, rich man! I'm gonna beat you bloody and then I'm gonna cut your damned throat!”
Wolf turned back into the office and jammed the barrel of his gun into Joe's spine. “No, you're not,” he said quietly. “Because, Joe, if you as much as move, I'm going to kill you.”
Joe stiffened and swallowed hard. “You sneaky half-breed sonofabitch! You tricked me!”
“That's right,” Wolf said. “How else was I going to get you here so that I could collect that bounty money?”
“You're gonna fry in Hell!” Joe raged, feeling the barrel of Wolf's gun hard against his backbone. “I swear you will.”
Peabody stepped forward and drove his meaty fist into Joe's gut, doubling him up. “So how does it feel, Moss?”
Joe started to lunge at the mine owner, but Wolf rammed his gun barrel into Joe's ear, saying, “Don't do it or I'll blow your mangy head clean off!”
Peabody hit Joe Moss again, this time in the face, and dropped him to the polished office floor.
“Ouch,” Peabody said, rubbing his knuckles. “That hurt!”
“I brought him to you,” Wolf said, glancing at a big safe in the corner of Peabody's office. “And I believe the bounty you were going to pay Ransom Holt was seven thousand dollars.”
“That was for Moss
and
his wife,” Peabody countered.
“Fiona Moss can be found at the Gold Strike Hotel on C Street. She's waiting for us to come back.”
Joe spat blood at the polished office floor and cursed. “I don't know how, Wolf, but I'm gonna kill you!”
“Shut up!” Wolf shouted, eyes fixed on Garrison Peabody. “So I'll take that seven thousand dollars in cash right now.”
“I . . . I don't have it all.”
“Sure you do,” Wolf said. “Open that big safe.”
“There's not quite seven thousand in it. Maybe only a little over five thousand.”
“I'll take that, and the rest when we put Fiona Moss's head in the noose.”
Peabody smiled. “Well done! Just a moment and I'll get the safe open for you.”
“I've been waiting a long time for that bounty money,” Wolf admitted. “I reckon that I can wait another minute longer.”
Garrison Peabody went to his safe and, concealing its combination lock from view with his thick body, he spun the dial and soon had the safe open. Wolf saw the man scooping out wads of cash and stuffing them into a canvas bank deposit bag. With his gun still trained on Joe, Wolf went to stand near the Shamrock Mine owner. “All of it, Mr. Peabody. Those gold and silver coins, too.”
“Then this will be close to the seven thousand,” Peabody was saying as he worked fast. “And by the way, what happened to Ransom Holt?”
“Joe Moss shot the back of his head off. He also killed Jedediah Charles and Ike. Joe Moss killed every man you sent . . . but you never sent me, and that's why I'm the one collecting the bounty.”
“I don't care who collects, as long as I have them both ready to be hanged,” Peabody said, standing up and handing the heavy canvas bag filled with coin and cash to Wolf. He reached into his office desk and drew out a gun. “Now that you've been paid, you can leave. I'll take care of Mr. Moss and his wife.”
Quicker than the strike of a snake, Wolf slammed the barrel of his six-gun across the rich mine owner's face, knocking him unconscious to the floor.
“Get up, Man Killer,” Wolf ordered. “We've been paid and we're ready to leave now.”