ACES WILD

 By Andii Valo 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN:

Ben Carter paused outside the ward, almost literally pulled in two directions. Cort was halfway along the passage, moving quickly but awkwardly and Ben called softly for him to stop. Earlier, just after they’d ambushed two guards in their station up the corridor, Cort had told Ben they needed to stun Wade and dose him with enough laudanum to keep him quiet for the rest of the night. He was stubborn, insistent and wouldn’t listen to reason. Now Ben hefted his Winchester rifle, feeling the bottle of medicine in his coat pocket swill about, and tried to summon some enthusiasm for the unpalatable task in hand. He glanced through the door to where Wade was sitting bolt upright on his bed, staring at him with an expression which bordered on desperation, and his stomach twisted.

Leaving him there didn’t sit right with Ben – yes, the man was a menace and had gotten his best buddy flogged, but Wade had come up with this plan and, ultimately, Cort had nobody but himself to blame for losing his temper and attacking his cellmate.

He called after Cort again, more loudly this time, and again got no response. Cort disappeared into the guard’s station and Ben felt a stab of irritation in the same instant he came to a decision. He crossed the ward in a few swift strides, selected a key from the ring on his belt, and unlocked Wade’s ankle chain.

Wade sprang to his feet then grimaced and cursed broadly. Ben watched him appraisingly.

“Don’t be holding us back, Wade, or we’ll leave you behind. And don’t be shooting your mouth off either. Cort ain’t going to like this one bit and we don’t need any yap from you making things worse.”

Wade looked like he was about to smile then thought better of it. He nodded slowly and, Ben fancied, with genuine appreciation.

“Do I get a gun?”

Ben had known that was coming. He shook his head. “You don’t need one. We’ll take real good care of you!”

He headed back down the corridor and heard Wade following some distance behind, his bare feet slapping on the stone floor. Cort was in the room which served as the guard’s station, his back to the door and staring out at the storm through one of the windows. The room smelled of coffee – there was a pot bubbling over a small fire in a grate - and an unconscious guard was sprawled on the floor. Ben grabbed one of his ankles and began hauling him outside. Cort spoke without turning.

“What are you doing?”

Ben glanced at his unmoving back. “Taking him to the ward, make him look like a prisoner.”

“There’s only meant to be two prisoners on that ward. Why are you…”

“I figure I’m entitled to a pair of boots, boss!”

Cort spun around at the sound of Wade’s sarcastic drawl and his hand moved instantly to his hip. The prison revolver was in his hand a second later and pointed directly at Wade’s chest. Ben stood up in a rush and took a step back so that he was shielding Wade’s body with his own. Cort scowled.

“Get out of the way, Ben. I told you before he’s not coming with us.”

The simmering irritation Ben had felt earlier was close to full-on anger now.

“You don’t make the decision on this, Cort! Me and Wade hatched this plan and I ain’t leaving him to hang just ‘cause you got a beef. You can settle your scores once we’re outside the prison but right now we need to get moving. Help me with this guard, Wade, and keep your trap shut!”

Wade grabbed the man’s other ankle and together they dragged him from the room. Ben glanced at Cort only once and was met with a furious stare. Ben noticed how he hadn’t holstered the pistol but didn’t have time to dwell on it. They got the guard down to the ward and performed the same operation as they had on his buddy, stripping him of his clothes, binding and gagging him then chaining him to the bed and covering him. Wade struggled into the uniform, which was a little snug, and cursed the whole time. Ben bundled up the discarded prison clothes and tossed them into a nearby cupboard. He stuck the guard’s service pistol into his own belt and reached for his Winchester. Wade frowned.

“You still ain’t gonna give me a gun? You saw that look on Thompson’s face. He’s gonna kill me first opportunity he gets and I’m entitled to defend myself.”

Ben smiled. “I ain’t giving you a gun so you can shoot us in the back, Wade.”

Wade looked aggrieved. “You think I’d do that? We’re gonna need each other once we’re clear of this shithole. We need to stick close, look out for each other and try to survive in a desert full of Apache just itching to spill white man’s blood.”

His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened with remembering.

“I’ve seen how they kill the likes of us, Cartwright, and it ain’t pretty or quick. I don’t intend to put myself in that position.”

Ben shrugged. “You can do what you like once we’re free. I don’t think Cort wants you along on our ride.”

Wade looked surprised. “Maybe you should ask how well he knows Injun territory before you let him do all the deciding. I figure you boys are gonna need a guide.”

Ben sniggered. “And you figure it might be you?”

Wade shrugged. “You got someone better in mind?”

Ben had read enough stories about renegade Apaches to know Wade was telling the truth. They favoured the desolate, wild places – places he’d spent his whole life actively avoiding – and they killed white men for sport as much as they did revenge. However, the immediate plan was to follow the Colorado River as far as they could, right into Las Vegas if possible and that weakened Wade’s argument a little.

“They’ll have a tough time ambushing us in a boat, Wade, now let’s go!”

He turned on his heel and marched back up to the guard’s station. Cort was sitting in a chair with the pistol in his lap and he looked pale, drawn and bone weary. The last thing they needed was him passing out but it seemed all residual traces of laudanum, and the adrenaline rush activated during the escape from the ward, had now left his body. Even though he had a big bottle of medicine in his pocket, Ben knew it was no use to them. Everybody needed to be sharp, alert and on their toes. He hurried across the room and put a hand on Cort’s shoulder.

“Put the gun away. Save it for our real enemies.”

Cort glowered, “This isn’t over, Ben.”

“Save it for later, buddy. We got to get out of here.”

Cort slowly holstered the pistol, glaring at Wade the whole time, then got slowly to his feet and picked up a Winchester rifle which he cradled loosely in his arms. Ben grabbed a lamp from a table top and thrust it at Wade.

“You go first, and no funny business!”

He was relieved beyond measure that a temporary truce seemed to have been struck and he brought up the rear as Wade led them progressively downwards through the hospital. He moved forward occasionally to unlock doors from the bunch of keys on his belt, then re-locked them afterwards. They moved quietly and cautiously, watching and listening for guards the whole time, but met nobody. Eventually they fetched up against a strap iron door – their entrance to the tunnel which led to the river - and Ben pulled the final key from his pocket.

Only Governor Farleigh and Captain Coughlan had access to this particular passage and guards were not trusted with the keys. He’d gotten two made from clay imprints he’d taken of Coughlan’s copy, which he kept in his office desk. The desk drawer was always locked, but Ben had plenty of practice with simple locks like that. The complex mechanisms on prison doors were outside of his expertise, however, and it took a Yuma locksmith to oblige him. He’d recently had cause to break into Coughlan’s desk for a second time, and wondered how long it would take the Captain to find the letter he’d left inside, wondered what the man’s course of action would be after he’d read it…. It was academic of course; they’d be miles away by the time that happened. Or so he hoped.

He struggled with the replica key, twisting it with all his strength but it didn’t want to turn. He could hear some of the tumblers moving inside the lock, but the rest didn’t seem interested and he slowly realised the duplicate wasn’t a precise enough copy. Wade and Cort were both cursing, beginning to snipe at each other and Ben could feel the tension coming off them in waves. If they were caught on this side of the gate, all because a God damned key wouldn’t turn, all three of them would spend the rest of their short lives in the hole and fifteen lashes would seem like a walk in the park.

“Didn’t you test the damned thing, Cartwright?”

That was Wade’s voice and Ben bristled at the accusing tone it carried. However, the locksmith warned him this might happen and how to deal with it. He reached into his boot and drew out a thin metal file with a scowl.

“Shut your mouth, Wade. It needs some adjusting.”

Cort muttered something about Wade’s teeth needing adjusting but Ben ignored him. He had Wade bring the lantern closer while he carefully filed the teeth but it took several attempts before the lock yielded reluctantly. It took just as long to lock the door again once they’d all passed through and Wade was bellyaching the whole time. Ben reminded him how an unlocked door would be a dead giveaway when the alarm sounded tomorrow morning, and he took care of his work diligently. Cort didn’t say much of anything, but he invariably stood behind Wade and he gripped the Winchester rifle tightly.

The final door – the one which opened directly onto the banks of the river – was an easier affair to manage. The second key was a perfect copy; the tumblers turned smoothly and the door swung inwards. Ben hesitated, consulting his pocket watch. It read 12:50 and he knew from experience there would be a guard patrol passing overhead on perimeter duty about now, undaunted by the driving rain. He turned to face Cort and Wade.

“The boat’s moored half a mile downstream of here. When the patrol’s moved on we got to move fast ‘cause there’ll be another along in twenty minutes. We need to be out of sight by then.”

Cort squinted out through the door. Rain was hammering down with force enough to force rivulets of sand into the stone passageway.

“Do you think they’ll even see us? That weather’s ferocious!”

“We ain’t taking no chances!”

They waited two minutes before scooting through the door and Ben locked it behind them. They made a dash for the river bank, favouring the higher rise of the ground there, then hugged it strenuously, almost doubled over, keeping out of sight of the prison watch towers. Ben took the lead now with Wade behind him and Cort at the back of the line. It wasn’t long before the buildings were distant silhouettes and Ben was soaked to the skin, his legs aching from the strain of hunching over the whole time.

Toby had been charged with bringing the boat up here earlier in the evening, but Ben didn’t know exactly where he’d moored it He scanned the overgrown river bank as lightning illuminated it in short bursts, though it was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead, and would have missed the hiding place entirely if a low whistle hadn’t alerted him. There was a brief flash of lamp light and he headed towards it.

The boat was beneath some low hanging trees, their branches brushing the surface of the water. Toby was squatting in the bow wearing a rain slicker, a floppy sou’wester and grinning like a Cheshire cat. He raised a dark lantern aloft and Ben blinked in the dim light it cast.

“I sure am glad to see y’all.” His gaze moved briefly to Wade and the smile faltered. “Most of you, anyways...”

Wade grinned. “A nursemaid’s gonna be real useful on this trip.”

The boat was long, broad and high-sided. It sat low in the water at the stern and there was a tarpaulin stretched across its gunwales. Toby stood up easily, apparently at home on the rocking vessel, scowled at Wade and then pointed towards the tarp.

“You’ll all have to hunker below, so the supplies don’t get wet. The current’s strong enough that she won’t need much working, just a little steering.”

He eyed Wade with caution now. “It’ll be snug with four of us aboard. Cort, you go up back where you can stretch out and sleep. There’s plenty of blankets.”

Cort was staring at Wade.

“There’s only three of us making this trip, Toby. We busted Wade out of Yuma, which is more than he deserves, but now he’s on his own.”

Wade didn’t show any concern at all.

You don’t want that name no more, Thompson?”

Cort didn’t drop his gaze. “I don’t want it. I don’t need it and you’d best get moving before they start sending out search parties.”

Ben frowned. “We come this far, Cort, we might as well get the God damned name.”

“Any name he gives us will be a lie and we’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

Toby began peeling back a corner of the tarp and Ben studied Wade. He didn’t seem remotely concerned by the prospect of being left alone, unarmed, with a prison in one direction and a 300 mile walk to Vegas in the other. His features were dim in the lamplight but Ben was pretty sure he was grinning.

“I reckon I’m gonna give it you anyway. Think of it as a gift.”

“It makes no difference now.”  Cort spat into the river then began clambering aboard the boat.

Wade watched him for a moment.

“I figure you should sit sown before you fall in the river, and listen.”

A sudden rush of current swung the stern of the boat towards the centre of the river and Cort wobbled and then sat down hard, almost on top of Toby. Ben felt queasy just looking at the wildly rocking craft, though Wade seemed to find the whole thing amusing.

“You still want the man who murdered your family, Thompson? Or don’t you care about that no more?”

Cort’s head whipped round and suddenly the Winchester rifle was pointed at Wade, rock steady in spite of the boat’s motion.

“One more word about my family and you’re a dead man. There’s no guards to save your sorry arse this time.”

“So you don’t want to find him?”

Cort thumbed back the hammer of the gun.

“Keep talking and you’ll get an answer.”

Wade shrugged. “I got nothing to lose. If you leave me here I’m dead anyways.”

Cort ignored him. “Get in the boat, Ben. We’re leaving.”

Ben hesitated for a moment, glancing at Wade, but there was nothing more he could do for the outlaw. He shrugged apologetically.

“Nice knowing you.”

Wade hooked his thumbs into his belt as Toby began to untie the boat from the tree which moored it. His eyes never left Cort.

“The feller who killed your momma and sister is the same bastard who shot me in the back, left me for dead and rode into the sunset with a train load of gold bullion. We both want the same man, Thompson, and if we float up this river together I reckon we’ll all get lucky.”

Cort was staring now, his jaw hanging open and Ben could feel the balance of power shifting perceptibly. He gave a low whistle of appreciation.

As aces in the hole went, it was a pretty damned fine one!

ON TO CHAPTER 15

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