The Copper City - Chris Scott Wilson [45]
“No.”
“I came in myself.” Dobey’s mouth widened into an O as an invisible hand squeezed his ruined intestines. A rivulet of perspiration trickled from his plastered hairline. The spasm subsided and his stiffened body relaxed a little. His gaze turned to Quantro again.
“Truth was, riding was making me sick to my stomach. I knew I’d never haul up on him.”
“Upton?”
Dobey gulped and nodded. “He shot me.”
“I know.”
“He killed Webster and Jeffers too, in the canyon where we tried to ambush you.”
“I found them.”
Dobey looked away into the gloom, eyes glazing and slipping out of focus. He snapped himself back, voice anxious. “You still here, Quantro?”
“Yes.”
“He’s scared of you. Said you killed six men. Says you’re as fast as chain lightning.”
“I can shoot,” he admitted.
Dobey groaned softly, hands tightening across his abdomen. His knees rose as he tried to escape the pain devouring him.
Pete leaned around Quantro, his voice soft. “Time for idle talk is over, son. Tell us where he is.”
Dobey’s face collapsed again and his eyes remained closed. “He turned off the trail. Heading south for the railroad. I figure he’s hightailed it for Watertank, maybe six miles to the south-east. He’ll be holed up there by morning.” His breath started to rasp again.
Pete eyed Quantro. “Upton probably figured he’d lose us on the main trail. While we’re cutting sign he’s on the train and clear to hell out of it.”
Quantro nodded, eyes jumping away from the dying man’s sweat-drenched face. “We can’t catch him up before he gets on the train. The horses wouldn’t make it.” He paused to think. “But there’s another way.”
Pete frowned. “How’s that?”
“This town, Charleston, is on the same line as Watertank. Any train that passes through there has to come through here, or the other way around. Now, if you were Upton and you reckoned the two men trailing you were here in Charleston, which train would you catch?”
“The one going the other way,” Pete answered without hesitation.
“Yes?” Quantro grinned wolfishly. “But what if you reckoned the men were smart enough to work out that’s what you were doing? And that they’d get on the train before it reached Watertank so they’d be sitting on it nice and calm, waiting for you to get on?”
Pete pursed his lips. “If I’d thought of all that, then I’d get the train that was heading toward Charleston and lay low while it passed through, keeping an eye out to see if the two men did get on. If they did, I’d be in the best position to take care of them. Besides, I’d be hoping they wouldn’t think I was fool enough to come back through the town where I knew they were.”
Quantro was silent, his gaze straying to where Dobey’s breathing was growing more labored by the second. “Upton’s sly enough to figure it that way, and you know how it is, when a man’s got a heap of money to protect he’s bound to get foxier by the minute.” He stopped talking, then left the bed to stand by the window and look out onto the street. “Leastways, I hope to hell that’s what he’s going to do.”
“Otherwise what?”
“Otherwise we’ve lost him.”
***
Upton couldn’t make up his mind.
He had spent most of the night churning it over as he rode his flagging horses, tugging along the string of weary pack animals behind him. Instinct urged him to take the first train running south away from Charleston. It was the route anybody would take, but his big fear was underestimating Quantro. He knew all about his having tracked down four men and taking two years over it. That meant Quantro could use his head and that he was almighty patient. Most men Upton could think of would have given up after six months at most.
Thinking the whole thing out, Quantro and Wiltshire had to be in Charleston. Not even an Apache could have figured out where he’d left the main trail, and Charleston was the nearest place. But what if they figured out he was heading for Watertank? What would they do? It seemed a good possibility they’d catch the next train running down.
Then it occurred to him they might wait, figuring