Eugene Brigham Hayes read over every report he could get his hands on, anything he could find on Marston's movements. His men and local law had been visiting every settlement in New Austin, chasing every lead, in the three days since Gaptooth Breach. There had been no sign of Marston, and already Fordham was sending him telegrams. He slouched in his chair, sighed. Nothing. Not one damn sign of Marston.
There was a soft nock at his door, and Hayes sat up. "Enter."
Hart walked in, a lit cigar in his mouth and a bottle of whiskey in his hand. "Jesus Hayes, have you slept since the last time I was here?"
That brought back how tired he felt. Hayes sighed again and shook his head. "Not a bit."
"For Christ's sake, Hayes, you've only gotten a few hours of sleep in the past two days. You're not gonna be in any shape to go after Marston when we find him."
Hayes shrugged. "Someone's gotta run the thing."
"Yes, someone does. But if that someone is so exhausted they can't think straight, they won't run things well." Hart took a pull on the whiskey bottle and held it out to Hayes. Hayes took it and sipped. It burned down his throat.
"We've been after him for days and all we've got to show for it are false leads and a dead agent." Hayes replied, almost more to himself than Hart.
Hart nodded sympathetically. "I know how it feels. But you won't be doing Decker any good like this. Get some sleep. New Austin is big. Finding him will take time, but we will find him."
Hayes snorted and smiled. He raised the bottle to Hart. "I can drink to that." He took a long pull on the bottle.
…
Thieve's Landing was probably the safest town in the area for Jack Marston to be, but he still hated it. The mosquitos in the nearby swamp made it miserable, and the road was always muddy. The town itself was filled with men capable of violence, and enough alcohol to make that violence a common event.
Marston hitched his horse at a small building where his father had bought a room years ago. He was tired. The ride north had worn him out, and dodging the rapidly growing number of lawmen hadn't made it easier. The Bureau was quietly bringing out local law enforcement. Marston shrugged. Such was life.
He looked longingly up at the room, but knew he couldn't take the time out, not yet. Instead, he checked his Schofield, and then slung a double barrel on his back. Thieve's Landing was that kind of place.
He strolled quickly across the road, speeding up to get past a carriage, and entered the saloon, listening more than looking for his friend.
The Thieve's Landing saloon was dark and reeked of alcohol and a slight hint of piss and body odor. Men with dark eyes glanced up, assessed him, and went back to their drinks. Several card games were going, with men swearing and slurring, but not fighting, yet. Perfumed whores walked about, and within a minute of entering, two propositioned Marston. He turned them down.
Marston immediately found who he was looking for. Shaky was in a small game of poker, and apparently doing quite well for himself. Marston made his way over, staying largely out of sight.
"W-w-w-w-well b-b-boys, thats another h-h-hand for me." Shaky said as he raked in more money, about ten dollars. The other two looked miserable, and turning angry. Marston slid closer, unlimbering the shotgun but keeping it under his coat.
"Goddamnit Shaky, thats three in a row. No one is that fucking lucky." one of the men growled, and his hand began to slide to a holster on his leg.
"N-n-now f-f-f-fellas, there's n-no n-n-need for any v-violence." Shaky said, waving his hands disarmingly. He looked at his cards and threw them down. Three Kings. The other two men swore.
"You fucking cheater!" the man closest to Marston said, and Marston casually pressed the shotgun barrels into the man's back, cocking the hammers, the sound just barely audible. The man stiffened, not moving.
The other man stood up and drew a revolver. Shaky drew his own, much more slowly and clumsily. He'd been drinking it seemed. The other man looked questioningly at his friend, who was still seated.
"One at my back Bill. I ain't for helpin'." he said.
Bill looked back at Jack, and Jack smiled, as annoyingly as he could. He shoved the sitting man with the shotgun, making a point. "You try anything, and your buddy here won't like the results, friend."
Bill swore, and looked between the two. He swore again and holstered the revolver, shoving his money at Shaky. "You take your money and get outta here."
"I think not, Bill." Marston replied, and pulled the sitting man up. "You and Mr.-" He waited for a name.
"Adrian." The man supplied.
"Right. You and Mr. Adrian will go and take a walk. We've got business here." Jack nodded to Shaky, who nodded back, affably.
Bill swore, and finally agreed. Marston motioned to the door and walked them out, watching as they stumbled into the street and away from the saloon. He turned back, and saw most of the saloon staring at him. He tipped his hat, and holstered the shotgun.
"J-J-Jack! H-h-how're y-you?" Shaky greeted him when he returned. Jack shook his hand and grinned. Stutter aside, he'd always liked Shaky since he'd met him in 1914. Being friends with an arms dealer was nice as well.
"Living the dream Shaky, living the dream. And you?" Jack motioned for a drink, and the bartender grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass and tossed them to him. Jack poured himself a drink, and took a sip.
"W-w-well enough J-Jack." Shaky replied, motioning to the pile of money he'd won. "D-d-drinks are on m-me." he grinned. "S-s-so, what b-brings you h-here? Finally d-decided that you like m-my h-humble town?"
"Not quit." Jack leaned in and told Shaky about the Bureau men, and Gaptooth Breach.
"J-J-Jesus Jack, y-you don't g-get into trouble in halves, do you?"
Jack grinned wolfishly and sipped more whiskey. Shaky swore.
"W-w-well, what d-do you w-want, Jack?" Shaky asked after a minute. Shaky had always come through for him.
"I can't stay in New Austin anymore. Lot of heat is coming down." Jack began, thinking, his mind working slowly from exhaustion.
"I'm g-g-guesssing W-W-West E-Elizabeth is o-out t-t-too." Shaky replied. The two sat for a minute, enjoying their drinks.
"Mexico." They said it together.
"W-w-well, Jack, that w-won't be easy."
"What, because of their new revolution?" Jack smiled and winked at Shaky. "Shaky, I'll be fine. But if you could maybe get me some things, I'd be grateful."
Shaky was nodding his head before Jack had even finished. "Y-y-you name it a-and it's y-yours, Jack."
"Good." Jack pulled a list out of his coat pocket and set it in front of Shaky. Shaky picked it up and read it. Jack nursed his whiskey and waited.
"B-b-bloody hell Jack." Shaky gasped "Y-y-you want me to g-get th-"
"Now now, let's not spoil it Shaky." Jack chided, and raised his glass. "To my daring escape into Mexico."
Shaky shook his head, but raised his glass all the same.
…
Hey all! Thanks for being patient, life has been a bit chaotic and I haven't been able to give the story the attention it deserves. Things are moving along, but we'll still have a few more chapters in New Austin.
Best wishes all. Please read and review.
Trum4n.