Ralph Compton - West of the Law

Using as few words as possible, McBride told McKenzie how the girls had been destined for a short and violent life of prostitution until he and Prescott had freed them.

‘‘I will not go into any more details, Mr. McKenzie,’’ he finished. ‘‘There is no need for our enemies to become yours.’’

‘‘Yet, if I give these young Celestials a home, then surely your enemies will become mine?’’

McBride nodded, a man bound to honesty. ‘‘That is likely.’’

Again McKenzie went into a brooding silence. Adoette was whispering to the girls in a language they did not understand, and one of them answered, sounds without meaning, drifting sweet and light as birdsong through the hushed room.

It was the first time McBride had ever heard any of the girls speak, and it pleased him greatly.

Angus McKenzie lifted his head.

‘‘Mr. McBride, you have a good name and a strong face and I’ll tell you what I feel. By times, I am a harsh, unbending man, much given to ardent spirits and profanity. But I am also a God-fearing man, from an early age raised in the Presbyterian Church to know what is right and what is wrong. Yes, I will take care of your girls and when you return, you will find them happier than they were when you left.’’

‘‘I’ll pay you—’’

‘‘No money, Mr. McBride, not for this. I cannot take gold and silver coin for an act of Christian charity. To do so would be to spit in the eye of God.’’

‘‘Angus, we’re beholden to you,’’ Prescott said.

‘‘When will you return?’’

McBride shook his head and answered for Prescott. ‘‘That I don’t know. It will be when our business is done. A week, maybe two, maybe longer—’’

‘‘Maybe never,’’ Prescott said.

‘‘Then . . . this business of yours is revolver work?’’

‘‘It’s my trade, Angus,’’ Prescott said. ‘‘You understand that.’’

‘‘Then I will ask no more questions. The less I know, the less I can tell.’’

McKenzie rose to his feet, sighing long, as though his new responsibilities had suddenly dawned on him. ‘‘I will have my woman sack you up some grub. Now you’ve been refreshed, you will be wanting to get back on the trail.’’

It was a polite dismissal and McBride accepted it as such.

‘‘We’ll leave the wagon if you don’t mind,’’ he said.

‘‘Yes, leave it. I’ll get rid of that damnable convict cage. It’s a thing the wee lassies have no need to see anymore.’’

McBride stood to say his farewells. He walked over to the Chinese girls. Knowing they could not understand a word he said, he backed up his speech with an elaborate pantomime of his hands. ‘‘I am going now.’’ He pointed to himself and made a walking motion with two fingers of his right hand, covering distance in the air. Then, a return, this time using his left. ‘‘I’ll come back for you.’’

He was met with blank stares—then the youngest girl surprised him. She jumped to her feet and threw her arms around his waist, her cheek pressing into the hard muscle of his belly. A frantic pleading in her voice, the girl kept saying the same words over and over again, her frail arms tightening.

‘‘She does not want you to leave,’’ Adoette said. ‘‘It is a child’s way. But you must go now, make a clean break.’’

‘‘John, maybe she thinks you’re her pa,’’ Prescott said, grinning.

McBride gently disentangled the girl’s arms, took a knee and looked into her damp brown eyes. ‘‘I’ll come back for you,’’ he said. His eyes lifted to the Kiowa woman. ‘‘After I’m gone, try to make her understand.’’

‘‘I will try. You are taking the warrior’s path and will not be able to hold this child in your arms. Therefore you must hold her in your heart.’’

McBride rose to his feet. ‘‘I’ll remember that, Adoette,’’ he said. The girl still clung to him.

As they rode away from the cabin and a silence grew between them, Prescott turned in the saddle and said finally, ‘‘You think they’ll make it, John?’’

‘‘I don’t know,’’ McBride said. ‘‘If they can get over the heroin addiction, if McKenzie treats them right . . .’’ He wiped sweat from the band of his plug hat, then settled it back on his head. ‘‘I just don’t know.’’

‘‘If you’re still alive after this is done, what will you do with four Chinese girls?’’

‘‘I don’t know that either.’’

‘‘How would Shannon Roark take it? Having an instant family, I mean.’’

McBride’s face showed his annoyance. ‘‘Luke, anybody ever tell you that you ask too many questions?’’

‘‘All the time,’’ the little gunfighter said, unabashed. ‘‘I have what you might call an inquisitive nature.’’

They rode in silence for several minutes. Then McBride said, ‘‘I don’t know how Shannon would take it.’’

Chapter 20

McBride and Prescott made camp that night in an arroyo due east of the Spanish Peaks and bedded down on a mattress of pine needles.

From out of the darkness McBride heard Prescott’s voice. ‘‘John, where do we go from here?’’

‘‘I’ve been thinking about it, but I don’t know.’’

‘‘We’ve hurt Gamble Trask, killed a few of his men, freed the Chinese girls and burned his opium, but he’ll bounce right back.’’

‘‘He can rebuild his cabin and slave shack and hire more men, that’s for sure.’’

McBride heard Prescott stir and rise up on one elbow. ‘‘We’re no match for Hack Burns and the Allison brothers, not if they come at us all at once.’’ After a few moments of silence he added, ‘‘I think I can take Burns, but the Allisons stick together. They’d be a handful.’’

‘‘I’ll be with you.’’

‘‘It’s still two against four, plus how many hard cases Trask can round up. I don’t think we can buck those odds.’’

‘‘I’ve been thinking about Shannon. I promised to protect her, but I’ve left her all alone in High Hopes. That can weigh on a man.’’

Prescott sat up and started to build a cigarette. ‘‘We can’t do anything else to damage Trask out here. Hell, as it is, all we’ve probably done is make him mad. I reckon High Hopes is where we should be.’’

A match flared orange in the dark and McBride saw it reflect on the lean planes of Prescott’s face. ‘‘Kill Trask and it’s over,’’ he said.

‘‘I want to kill him bad and that would be the easy solution.’’ Prescott lay on his back again. ‘‘It’s getting to Trask without getting killed ourselves that’s difficult.’’

McBride was silent for so long, Prescott thought he was asleep. ‘‘John?’’

‘‘I’m awake. I was just thinking that we’ve failed. We killed a few men, freed some girls and burned up a shipment of opium. There’s nothing there that Trask can’t replace. We’ve been a couple of hornets trying to sting an elephant.’’

Now Prescott fell silent. When he spoke again there was a note of excitement in his voice. ‘‘John, you told me that Trask plans a grandstand play, something that will be his ticket out of High Hopes and into lace-curtain Washington. If we can find out what it is and head him off at the pass, it’s our chance to ruin him. Once Trask is broke and alone, I’ll kill him.’’

‘‘His big score could be something to do with orphan trains. Have you come up with any idea of what Leggett was trying to tell me?’’

‘‘No, I haven’t. Dying men say all kinds of things that don’t make sense. ‘Orphan trains’ could be one of them.’’

McBride turned his head, peering into the darkness at Prescott. ‘‘Luke, I’ve got something to tell you. I’m a police officer, a detective sergeant. I was ordered to get out of New York after I killed the son of a man who is just like Gamble Trask, only worse.’’