The Network’? The smart thing to do, he thought, would be to wait until Priest.
Cross and Delaney showed up. Only he wasn’t sure when they would be clocking in.
Perhaps they were already in Tombstone. But meanwhile, he was alone out here and he hated to take a chance on Bailey running, perhaps clocking out to some other time period. He had blown his cover purposely, setting himself out as bait, but if he could question Bailey, he could improve his chances of survival by learning where the attack might come from. The man with Bailey could be one of them. Or he might simply be one of the cowboys. There was no way of knowing. And when you don’t have enough information. Scott told himself, the best thing to do is to do nothing.
He was sorely tempted to follow them, but he realized that could be exactly what they were expecting him to do. They could be trying to draw him into a trap. Whoever they were, he was at a disadvantage. They might try to catch him on the road or lead him into an ambush. It was possible they were unaware that he had followed Zeke, if that was really his name, but he was not about to take that chance. Better to gamble on the opposition being smart, not stupid. He had already discovered two valuable pieces of information-that Zeke Bailey was not what he appeared to be, and that whoever he was working with was involved somehow with the Clanton ranch.
The Network, he thought. It had to be. The whole setup had all the earmarks of a Network operation. He knew the Clantons were involved in rustling. They were part of a large outlaw faction that included the McLaury brothers, Johnny Ringo, and Curly Bill Brocius. Most of them were ranchers, people who had been here before the silver boom, and with the proximity of the Mexican border, rustling had grown commonplace. Men from both sides of the border frequently conducted rustling raids for horses and cattle. The rustled stock could then be cheaply sold to other ranchers in the area, to augment their herds and to be consumed in Tombstone. Consequently, rustlers frequently found a warm welcome at most of the ranches in the area and they often went out of their way to ingratiate themselves with local ranchers, who were, after all, their market. Many people in Tombstone and its environs did not really consider the rustlers outlaws. But that was slowly changing.
As Tombstone grew, it was inevitable that certain of its citizens would come to view the rustlers as a disruptive element. The community was polarized. There were those to whom the rustlers were their friends, hard-working cowboys just trying to make a living. And there were others to whom they represented a potential threat. Especially as it was just one short step from stealing stock to robbing stages, with their cargo of silver bullion.
It was a perfect setup for the Network. Not one of their large-scale operations, obviously, but nevertheless one that afforded the opportunity for easy profit with a minimum of risk. How hard would it have been for them to infiltrate the rustlers and nudge them toward robbing stages? Or perhaps keep them out of it entirely and simply use their rustling operations as a cover for robberies of silver bullion? Either way, it would be relatively simple. A small operation, with no overhead to speak of, that would produce untraceable assets that could readily be liquidated. The Special Operations Group would not be interested in anything like that.
If there was a confluence point somewhere in this temporal sector, then it would be all the more reason for the S.O.G. to maintain a very low profile. They
would set up a base of operations, carefully concealed, from which they could patrol the confluence point and stage hit-and-run operations in other temporal sectors. It would make sense that they would want to keep their involvement with the locals at a minimum. On the other hand, if it was the Network, then it would make sense for them to station someone like Zeke Bailey in town, keeping an eye on all new arrivals. That would explain the seemingly careless act of having a Fairburn-Sykes commando knife on display in the store. Most people in this time period would react to it the way George Spangenberg had. A knife that simply wasn’t very useful for anything except maybe “sticking” people. Anyone with any sense would choose a skinner or a Bowie. To people in this time sector, a knife like that would simply not appeal. But if anyone showed a marked curiosity about it. it could signal a warning.
What bothered him was Bailey. A Network man, it seemed to him, would have been too professional to have made that slip about the Bisleys. Bailey was a bundle of nerves. He simply did not fit the profile of a Network agent. But then, maybe he wasn’t. At least, not part of the inner group. The Network was not above recruiting outsiders, often using criminals from the 27th century in their varied operations. They had contacts in the Temporal Underground, as well. Bailey could be a deserter from the future who was working for them. And, as such, he would be easily expendable.
The question was, what would they do now that they knew he’d broken Bailey’s cover and revealed his own? Would they move against him or would they rush to shut down their operation in this sector and clear out? Much as he wanted to nail them. Scott had to recognize that the preservation of temporal continuity came first. If he alarmed the Network into shutting down and moving out, it would, in effect, have accomplished the primary goal of his mission. It would eliminate a potentially disruptive influence in this temporal sector. Taking the Network people into custody would be highly desirable, of course, but his first priority had to be safeguarding temporal continuity.
What would Forrester want him to do? The Old Man would not want him to take any unnecessary risks. He’d want him to wait until the others had arrived and convey what he had learned to Colonel Priest, who would take command of the mission. Much as he wanted to make a try for Bailey. Scott knew that the smart thing to do, for now, would be to wait.
“Play it safe. Neilson.” he said to himself, out loud. “Keep a rein on it and play it safe.”
He released the horse he’d rented and slapped it hard on the rump, sending it running down toward the road. It would make its way back to the corral in town. He’d clock back, to avoid any risk of being ambushed on the road, and simply say the horse had shied at a snake or something and had thrown him just outside of town. Then he’d wait and see who came for him. Would it be Wyatt Earp, unpersuaded by Doc Holliday and intent on seeing him on the next stage out of town? Would it be Demming, intent on avenging his brother’s death? Or would it be the Network?
He grimaced, wryly. This was playing it safe?
5
Lucas and Andre got off the stage and waited for the driver to unload their bags. It hadn’t been a very long ride from Benson, perhaps twenty-five or thirty miles, but it hadn’t been very comfortable, either. Every jolt had been communicated to the passengers and the dust had seeped in everywhere. Both Lucas and Andre were well accustomed to discomfort, and there had been times in their careers when they had traveled in far less comfort. Lucas had never found anything to beat the sheer misery and exhaustion of forced marches with the Roman Legions and Andre had ridden for days on horseback, wearing full medieval armor. Nevertheless, they were grateful when the stage finally arrived in Tombstone.
Though they could easily have clocked into Benson, they had taken the Southern Pacific all the way from Lordsburg, the better to establish their cover. Lucas was posing as a writer from New York City, working on a series of articles for newspapers and magazines on the “Wild West.” Andre was his wife, secretary, and personal assistant. Finn Delaney would arrive separately, on horseback, with the cover of a drifter, a cowboy looking for work in the boomtown or on one of the ranches in the area. Between them, they hoped to be able to cover all contingencies.
Their first step was to check into the Grand Hotel, where Lucas made sure the desk clerk knew why he was in town. A promise to put the desk clerk’s name in the article he was writing immediately turned the man into a font of information enhevilbaS5about “the town that had a man for breakfast every morning.” The next step was to stop in at the hotel bar, where Lucas interviewed the bartender and some of the patrons, who regaled him with stories about the Earps, Bat Masterson. Doc Holliday, and the young gunslinger who had recently arrived in town, the Montana Kid.
“You missed Bat Masterson,” the barman told him. “He had to leave town and go to Dodge to help out his brother. Jim, with some trouble he was havin’ back there. But you’ll still find plenty to write about right here in Tombstone. mister. There’s trouble brewin’ you mark my word.”
“What sort of trouble?’ Lucas asked him.
“There’s bad blood between the Earps and some of the cowboys.” said the barman, like the Clantons and the McLaurys. And a lot of folks in town are startin’ to choose up sides Even the newspapers are getting’ in on it.”
“What’s it all about?” asked Lucas, while Andre sat beside him, taking notes, he bought another drink and invited the barman to have one for himself.
“Well, near as I can tell, the bad blood between the Earps and the McLaurys got started back around July of last year,” said the barman, a loquacious sort who clearly liked to gossip. He needed little prompting. “See, some soldiers came to town one day to see the Earps Seems some mules got stolen from out at Camp Rucker and they wanted some help from the local law to track the rustlers down. Well, sir, the trail took ’em out to the McLaury ranch. They found some mules, all right, but they couldn’t prove that they were Army mules. Frank McLaury said that they were his and the Earps thought that the brands were changed. Anyways, they couldn’t prove the mules were stolen and the Army didn’t get ’em back, but Frank McLaury didn’t like bein’ called a thief and he went around tellin’ anyone who’d listen how the Earps were spreadin’ lies about him.”
“Did Frank McLaury steal the mules?” asked Lucas.
“I’m not sayin’ he did and I’m not sayin’ he didn’t.” said the barman, but it wouldn’t have been the first time stock was rustled around here There’s been a lot of that sort of thing goin’ on. And lately, there’s been some stage robberies, as well. We got a lot of silver bullion goin’ out and not all of it gets to where it’s goin’. See, lot of small ranchers around here have done a bit of rustlin’ from time to time. There’s nothin’ unusual about it. Folks take a ride across the border and come back with some stock. Mexicans do the same damn thing. Been goin’ on for years. Only now there’s talk that some of the ranchers around here have taken to robbin’ stages as well as rustlin’ stock and some of that talk is comin’ from the Earps and others. And that ain’t the half of it.”
“What’s the rest?” asked Lucas, paying for another couple of drinks.
“Well, the Mclaurys are real tight with the Clantons.” said the barman. “And they’re all friends of Sheriff Johnny Behan. Now Johnny, he’s not a bad sort, you understand, but he doesn’t go out of his way to look for trouble, if you get my drift. Now a while back, this girl showed up in town, name of Josie Marcus. She was an actress came to town with a show called Pinafore on Wheels. Seems she knew Johnny from before. Anyway, the two of them set up house together and Johnny was introducin’ her to everybody as his fiancee. Only it seems that Josie didn’t care too much for the sort of company that Johnny kept. Boys like the Clantons, the McLaurys, Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo. They’d have these all-night poker games out at Johnny’s place and I guess Josie didn’t like it. Anyway, it wasn’t long before they had a fallin’ out and Josie took up with Wyatt Earp.”
“So you’re saying there’s a love triangle invo
lved?” asked Andre.