“I guess you owe us some shift money. We been working four days. If this here mine’s shut, then pay us off.”

  Celia didn’t even hesitate. “You go one over to the Miners Exchange Saloon and put in your claim for day wage, and I’ll see that Muggsy Pitt pays you. And later, when we open up, I’ll want you back. The mine’s been stolen by those people in the Pullman car, but I’m going to get it back.”

  “We’re all three-dollar-a-day men,” the big one said. “That’s twelve dollars for all of us. I don’t know what we’ll live on now. You gotta open fast or we’ll be gone.”

  “Give me a week,” she said. “I’ll add something to your pay to tide you over.”

  “Can’t make promises,” he said.

  “Neither can I,” she replied. “You tell the others to get back wages from Muggsy.”

  She walked over to the place where the Transactions sign was nailed to a beam, and ripped it off. But she kept it, and I wondered what she’d do with it.

  We left the miners there. I was real impressed with that girl.

  “You got money to pay them?” I asked.

  “Armand was a gambler. He had a bank.”

  We headed into Swamp Creek and the Miners Exchange, and found Muggsy swamping the floor. In short order, Muggsy agreed to record the wage claims and pay out cash she would provide, and keep some records.

  We went back to Argo’s rooms. “You stay outside,” she said.

  I did, and she returned with some half eagles, which we took to the saloon. She was all business, and I could see that Muggsy respected her.

  “Give me a list of who got paid what,” she said.

  “I’ll get it done,” he said.

  “If you don’t, your life isn’t worth beans,” she said.

  He laughed uneasily. Celia sure had a way about her.

  When we stepped outside, it was still morning. But a cloud sort of come along just then. It was Lugar himself, Scruples’ straw boss, walkin’ down the main drag with a big old revolver hanging off his waist. He sure was ugly. I hardly never seen anyone so much like a cloud covering the sun.

  “Looking for you,” he said, walking right up.

  “I’m not looking for you,” I replied.

  “Carter wants to talk to you.”

  “I got nothing to say to him.”

  “Oh, I think you do, Cotton. You come along. Bring her, too.”

  He stood there, ugly as a dill pickle, so I finally agreed.

  We hiked through town and up that long grade to the Pullman Palace Car, past a few new guards I never seen before, and pretty soon I got off Critter and they let us in to that parlor at the back of the car. There was old Scruples himself, wearing some sort of red velvet robe and puffing on a pipe.

  “Ah, there you are, Monsieur Desiree,” he said. “Welcome to our humble home.”

  That’s when I knew all hell had busted loose.

  I stood there sort of leaning on one foot and the other, waiting for the rest.

  “We have snitches all over town, Cotton. Nothing transpires in Swamp Creek without my knowing of it in minutes. The Wells Fargo expressman earns a silver dollar from me now and then. I knew about the trunk about five minutes after you had deposited it. You see? There it is.”

  He waved toward the old trunk, sitting on top of his writing table.

  “I’m glad everything’s there. You missed nothing. You’ve even returned the gold I’d paid to Brashear. And you did me a real favor, getting rid of him. Now that I own nearly all the mines, I’m voting myself the next mining district secretary. This is a fine new turn of events, and I wish to thank you for it. I’ve already reissued the claim papers to the company. I suppose that black stovepipe hat was Argo’s. Poor fellow. He was trespassing, you know. All we can do is warn people off of our property.”

  I pretty near jumped on that swine, but he had a couple of his goons hoverin’ right there. I think maybe Celia was fixing to shoot some of them, but I didn’t see no profit in it.

  “I’m quite able to read your intentions,” Scruples said. “They are always very simple, because you are a simple man. But of course, the first person to be hurt would be the young widow here, and the second person to be hurt would be you, and that would be rather foolish, wouldn’t it?”

  I could see how things stood in that there Palace Car, so I just stood real quiet.

  “You’re done for, Cotton. I’m giving you until sundown to leave the district. If you’re still around tonight, you might walk into flying lead.” He turned to Celia. “I would hate to see the young lady suffer the same fate,” he said.

  There sure wasn’t no sense in arguing with the man, with a few of his thugs lounging around there. I thought I saw Arnold in the corridor, and I suppose The Apocalypse had sat his dainty ass in some little chair around there.

  Scruples smiled. “We might even let Critter out there survive,” he said. “I’m always charitable toward innocent animals.”

  Chapter Twenty

  What happened was, I got mad. I got so mad I couldn’t see straight. So I done what I did. I plowed into Scruples and landed one whopper on him, and saw him topple backward, but that’s the last thing I saw. Old Arnold come out of nowhere and all went black on me.

  Next I knew, I was lyin’ on the grass somewheres, my head hurting bad and a few of them miners lookin’ down on me. It took me a while to get a handle on where I was. I didn’t even know why I was there at first. My head, it throbbed bad, and the rest of me hurt bad, too. I peered up at them, and they was lookin’ worried.

  “You all right?” one miner asked.

  I didn’t feel all right. So I just lay there.

  “This your horse?” asked one.

  Sure enough, there was Critter. And we were on the Swamp Creek Road outside of town. That’s where they put me.

  “You got something stuck in your shirt pocket,” one said.

  I reached for it, and my fingers clawed a small piece of paper. I couldn’t see well yet, with my head all fogged up, but I got the message. It was a bull’s-eye penciled in. Someone had gone to some trouble to draw them black and white circles.

  “It’s a bull’s-eye,” I mumbled.

  “Guess someone doesn’t like you,” the miner said.

  “That’s about half of it,” I said.

  I sat up, and they helped me up. I stood real shaky. Celia was nowhere in sight, and I wondered what they done with her. I almost didn’t want to know.

  “Guess I fell off my nag,” I said to the miners.

  I don’t think a one of them believed it, but they was being polite.

  “I’m all right now,” I said, and took a step or two and landed on my ass.

  “Guess I’m not quite all right yet,” I said. “But I’ll get there.”

  I stood up again, and got me over to Critter, who snapped at me for being so dumb, and then Critter let me get on board.

  My hat sat on a knot on my head. I lifted it and thanked the miners. “They changed my name to Target. You call me Target,” I said.

  “You sure you’re all right, Target?”

  “You ain’t seen a girl around here, have you?”

  “No, no girl. We was just walking along the road and there you were.”

  “Well, I’ll find her,” I said.

  I put heels to Critter, which made my head ache, and I headed toward town. It was mid-afternoon. I had until sundown. The only thought in my head was finding Celia.

  Critter sure was mean. Every time he stepped, my head hammered. Then he lifted into a trot and my head couldn’t believe it. He was gettin’ even with me for all the times he stood around waiting for me to sober up.

  I got to laughin’ even though I hurt bad. I’d given old Carter Scruples a good whonk. Last I knew, he was flyin’ backward in that little railroad car parlor, lookin’ so surprised he couldn’t believe what was happenin’. That made it worth it. The sight of him going ass over heels backward done my heart good. So I drove Critter on into town, hurting and howlin’ and making a fuss as I steered down the main drag. I didn’t much care.

  I thought maybe to fire a few shots in the air, but decided I’d need them bullets for the future. I still was mad, and now I was gonna take on that whole lot of killers and crooks old Scruples got together, and I wasn’t gonna quit until I drove the whole bunch out of Swamp Creek, and blowed up that railroad car into scrap metal. All Scruples done was made me real determined and bullheaded. Right then I was so bullheaded and pain-headed that I knew nothing was gonna slow me down.

  I turned off to the alley where I’d park Critter while I was fetching Celia, and let myself down to the ground. That hurt, too. It didn’t matter what I did. When I was riding, it hurt my head. When I was walking, it hurt my head. When I was singin’ or talkin’, it hurt my head. That Arnold, he was something, but I knew a trick or two myself, and there’d come a time when he wished he didn’t have balls.

  I lurched up them stairs to the Argo rooms and knocked, but there wasn’t no answer, so I knocked again, and finally tried the door. I shouldn’t have let myself in like that, but I was worried and wanted to make sure she was all right. Well, all I found was a lot of nothin’. I didn’t see her, and there was no sign that she’d ever come back from up on the hill. That was plumb worrisome to me. Maybe they was keepin’ her hostage. She’d sure caused them some trouble, and she was just a slip of a girl in her growin’ up years, but she was also Mrs. Argo, and that was bad news. That Transactions crowd might just have some use or other for the widder of the owner of the Fat Tuesday Mine. I sure didn’t like it none.

  I vowed then and there I’d get her freed. I was making a heap of vows just then. I’d get that whole outfit out of Swamp Creek. I’d take on the worst of them, Rudolph Glan, The Apocalypse, Arnold the street fighter, and the rest. They scared me plenty. I’m not one to pretend I don’t get mighty scared. Only, I was determined to do whatever damage I could, and if they finished me off, it would be at a high price. Someone had to take them on, and I just appointed myself. I also owed it to Celia, since I was still on her payroll.

  I thought my first business was to find Celia and make sure she was safe. Old Scruples, he knew it, too. And if I was still in town at sundown, lookin’ for her, they’d start sniping from any alley or rooftop they chose. I’d been warned. I sure ain’t bright, but I could see that the jaws of that bear trap were wide open. At least I still had me a little time till sundown.

  I needed to hide Critter first. If they saw Critter, they’d know the whole story. I didn’t have Aggie’s mule with me. That one disappeared. Maybe Celia had him if she was around. There’s no good way to hide a horse, especially one as noisy as Critter, but then I got me an idea that wasn’t half bad. I’d put Critter in Celia’s upstairs rooms if I could get that ornery cuss up the stairs with no one lookin’ and get a few baits of hay from the livery barn. That sort of settled it for me. I wandered outside, got Critter, and walked around to the creek side of the building where there wasn’t no traffic except for people taking a leak, and then I tugged him up. He didn’t like it none, and took one step at a time, snappin’ and snarling at me like I was a lunatic, but I got him up the stairs without them busting under him, and into Celia Argo’s rooms. I didn’t have no shovel to clean up after him, but I couldn’t help that. I got Critter a bucket of water, and then went over to the livery barn and got a bait of hay, and finally got it all together in Celia’s rooms. If she came in, she might not like to sleep with a horse in her parlor, but I couldn’t help that. Once I got Critter settled up there, I’d be all right, and I could slip around Swamp Creek in the dark pretty good. I didn’t count on when Critter started stompin’ up there, or pawin’ wood, so maybe that saloon man downstairs would wonder what was going on. But he probably would think Celia was just bein’ frisky, as usual.

  I sure needed a plan, but I ain’t one to do much plannin’. I knew what I wanted to do, and that would have to do for me. Find Celia. Get her mine back to her. Get them other mines back to their owners. Keep Scruples from claim-jumping the one big mine left, the Big Mother. And drive them gunmen and thugs out of the valley, along with them two in the Pullman car. I could count on one sidearm lent me by Celia, and a little of my usual bullheaded determination. That wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

  I slipped down them stairs and into the night. I could hear Swamp Creek flowing alongside the town. It was a dark night, and the darkness would be my friend. I waited a bit so my eyes would get used to the dark, and then headed toward the saloon row in the middle of town. There wasn’t much light even there. The pale light from a few kerosene lamps tumbled from small and dirty windows. Glass was scarce in all the West, and there sure wasn’t much of it in Swamp Creek. When a window got busted, it was usually boarded up since glass was hard to come by and cost a lot. But now that suited me fine. I eased under the dark gallery of the hardware emporium, where I could see what moved and what didn’t and who was leanin’ against what. This was a drinkin’ town and often as not, there’d be a few schnockered miners stretched out in the muck, waiting for the rats that came with every known mining town to eat on them or someone to steal their brogans.

  I didn’t see nobody at all. But just to make sure, I glided along the darker side of the street, and checked all them alleys between the buildings. One feller, he was cutting loose of some beer, but he buttoned up and went back into the Ponderosa House. I slid over to the saloon side, after checkin’ second-story windows, and then began peering into them drinkin’ parlors just to see who was bellying up to the bar. I was keeping an eye out for Celia, too. In one of them places, I spotted them three thugs of Scruples that had been around a while and wouldn’t give me a proper name. There were Garfield, Arthur, and Cleveland leaning into the bar, nursing mugs of beer. Well, that was something anyway. I continued my tour, wanting to know what Scruples men were hanging around.

  I didn’t know what to do with them worthless slugs neither, but I’d think of something that would be persuasive. I wouldn’t have minded shooting the lot and tossing them into the creek. But they were just the foot soldiers, the buck privates in that outfit. No sense wasting energy on them.

  I slipped along the boardwalk, and peered into the Deuce Saloon, which was a low dive full of people who’d rather shoot than talk. Sittin’ in there drinkin’ amber stuff was Lugar, and beside him was Rudolph Costello Glan.

  Big stuff. So Scruples was making sure I left town, and he’d put his whole bunch in here to enforce it. That meant that The Apocalypse and Arnold were floating around, too. Carter Scruples was never one to go halfway. Suddenly, the dark didn’t seem so friendly around there. I peered around, looking for that deadly little killer and the hulking eye-gouger who hung around with him. I hardly dared move, for fear movement would show me. And I could no longer risk even a peep through a lit window. I gradually ghosted back between a couple of log buildings, and listened real sharp. Sometimes, ears were better than eyes in thick dark.

  Sure enough, I thought I heard some silky sound, so I ghosted along a log wall until I got to the creek bottoms beside town, and stood there in deep shade, in a corner so dark that no one would see me. I stood there so long I got itchy, but it paid off. Movin’ real quiet along the valley was the long and short of Scruples’ army. It made my head start hurtin’ again just to see Arnold out there. I still had some aches from the last time he knocked me out. Them two was quietly inspecting every alley and space between buildings, very businesslike. I drew my Peacemaker, knowin’ I’d aim at that smooth little killer first, and Arnold second. But mostly I didn’t do nothing.

  They missed me. I was shadowed up pretty good. That’s all that saved me. I guess they figured I was in town. Maybe they saw me get a bait of hay or something. Scruples had his whole army out, checking for me.

  And where was Celia? Probably still up at the Pullman. There’d be more guards there, new ones I’d not had the pleasure meeting. Scruples was hiring whatever army he could hire, and it wasn’t hard to get a few more hardcases.

  But if his old hands were here in town, chances were Celia was being kept up there. And being bullheaded and all that, it looked like a good time to spring her if I could. I waited for The Apocalypse and his pal to get to the end of the row of buildings, and then I slipped straight across the creek, using one of them outhouses built over the flow to do it. I didn’t know what I’d find over there, but I knew I had a chance to fetch Celia if the mob was all in town. It was an easy trip through piney woods and then up a forested grade to the place where the Pullman car and its outbuildings sat. The moon was cracking over the horizon, which meant I’d be seen by anyone with good night eyes. But I was determined to snatch Celia if I could, so I eased toward the bunkhouse first, to take a quick look. I ended up walkin’ right in. She wasn’t there.

  Some joker was lyin’ in a bunk there.

  “Where’d she go?” I asked.

  “She’s tied up in the barn.”

  “I got orders to get her,” I said.

  “Yeah, that Scruples, he’s had an eye on her,” the man said.

  I thought I’d gotten there just in time.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  She wasn’t in the barn. I couldn’t see nothing, but I sure poked around. I even tried callin’ softly. But she wasn’t there. It still was plenty dark, so I sort of poked around. Celia Argo was somewhere nearby; I just had to find her.

  Then I noticed something peculiar. That outhouse was tied shut. The door was closed and rope wrapped around the whole crapper. I edged up and tried the door a little.

  I heard a muffled sound.

  “It’s Cotton. You in there?”

  More noise. That did it. I found the knots at the back of the crapper, worked them loose, and got the door open. Man, it stank in there. That one didn’t even have a quarter moon sawed in it for a vent. She was sitting there, legs tied, arms tied behind, and a gag on her. I got her out of there fast. If you ask me, that was a fate worse than death, and far worse than any other fate worse than death. I got her untied and ungagged. She had the sense not to say nothin’, since we didn’t know who or what was around there. But I could tell she was almighty pleased to get out of the crapper. She wiped her hands on grass and shook her skirt, and then I took her real gentle by the arm and we slid through shadows. We didn’t know when that crowd was going to come back to the bunkhouse after enjoying a few shots of booze in Swamp Creek.