Robert B. Parker's Bull River Read online

  “I was hoping we could have seen each other on Bull River,” Dalton said from somewhere in the fog. “I was disappointed. So many memories, but as you could see, that place went to shit.”

  “Let her go, Dalton!” Jedediah shouted. “Just let her go!”

  “She’s tied up at the moment,” Dalton said. “Besides, that would spoil this adventure.”

  Virgil moved up a bit, and we all eased a little closer. Then we saw Dalton.

  He was positioned closest to us on the port side of the schooner. He had one foot up on the gunwale. He had a pistol in one hand and a rope wrapped around the other.

  86

  Dalton McCord, there he was, after all this time, after all this bloodshed and heartache, there he was, standing proudly on the side of Captain Chapa’s schooner.

  “The rope wrapped around my hand here is connected to Captain Chapa’s Greener harpoon gun,” Dalton said, “and that harpoon with its razor-sharp arrowhead is aimed at your wife’s heart, little brother.”

  Dalton was taller and more rugged-looking than his brother, but they had very similar features. He wore no hat. His hair was thick and dark. Like Jedediah, he was handsome. His face was strong and golden-colored from the sun, with high cheekbones and deep-set eyes.

  “You make a move, if I go down for any reason and this rope is pulled, there she goes,” Dalton said. “Boom goes the harpoon and, well, that would be tragic.”

  Dalton was standing in a position as if he wanted to be remembered in a painting. He wore a long blue gentlemen’s coat with a white open shirt. He had a second pistol on his hip with the butt forward and wore striped pants tucked into tall military boots.

  We moved up a bit more and then we saw Catherine. She was not crying, but she looked like she was in shock. She was tied to the main mast, and just as Dalton had explained, the Greener harpoon launcher was secured atop a barrel, between Catherine and the cabin. The launcher was a large-bore rifle fixed with a harpoon protruding from the barrel. The point of the harpoon was aimed directly at her chest, and the rope wrapped in Dalton’s hand was rigged through a block and through the trigger guard of the Greener.

  “Captain Alejandro,” Dalton said with a smile, “good of you to come, it’s been awhile, and marshals, it’s good of you, too, to come and see us off.”

  “Dalton,” Jedediah said. “No, brother, no.”

  Dalton ignored Jedediah and looked to Captain Chapa, who was slightly shaking his head.

  “You remember Captain Chapa here,” Dalton said.

  Captain Chapa was a wiry old fella with weathered dark skin and cropped white hair. He was small and tough-looking for his age, and even though this was a tense situation, he seemed relaxed and unafraid.

  “The captain is now the first mate,” Dalton said with a smile. “Right, Captain Chapa?”

  Captain Chapa said nothing. He just stared at Dalton.

  Dalton looked back to us.

  “I am the captain now, though, I’m afraid,” Dalton said. “And Señor Chapa here is, yes, my first mate, and a damn good first mate he is.”

  “Dalton?” Jedediah said. “Please . . .”

  “He will be steering us on this journey,” Dalton said, ignoring Jedediah. “Once I say the word, he will set us off out to sea.”

  “Dalton,” Jedediah said calmly again. “Enough.”

  Dalton went on as if Jedediah had said nothing.

  “It’s a long journey where we are headed, but like I told EG, I will send you a letter, little brother,” Dalton said. “And if you’re still interested, who knows, maybe you will seek us out . . . hope so.”

  “Dalton,” Jedediah said. “I’m sor—”

  “Catherine?” Dalton said without looking back to her. “Before we sail away, do you have any parting words you want to say to Jedediah? Oh, sorry, correction, I meant Henry, yes, Henry Strode?”

  Catherine’s head was slumped forward a bit, and her hair was in her eyes.

  “Don’t worry, little brother, I told her who you really are,” Dalton said. “At first she didn’t believe me, but I’m pretty certain she’s convinced of it now.”

  “Dalton,” Jedediah said. “Stop this.”

  “Catherine?” Dalton prodded again.

  She lifted her head and looked at Jedediah.

  Jedediah took a step toward her.

  “Nothing to say, Catherine?” Dalton said.

  Catherine’s face contorted and she started to weep.

  “No?” Dalton said to Catherine. “Well, all right, then.” Dalton looked directly at Jedediah but called loudly, “First Mate Chapa?”

  Captain Chapa did not reply.

  “First Mate Chapa?” he said even louder.

  “Sí,” Captain Chapa said quietly.

  “Drop the lines!” Dalton said, never taking his eyes off of Jedediah.

  Captain Chapa did as he was told.

  “Dalton,” Jedediah said. “I’m sorry . . .”

  “First Mate Chapa!” Dalton said sternly as he remained staring at his brother. “Set sail!”

  “Aye, aye,” Captain Chapa said.

  Captain Chapa moved up the starboard side and trimmed the main sheet. The air was very slight coming in off the foggy ocean, but the sail slowly began to fill with the wind.

  Dalton was staring at Jedediah as the schooner slowly began to move away. He smiled.

  “And remember, little brother,” Dalton said. “What the good captain, now first mate, always said . . .”

  Captain Chapa was making his way back to the helm, and when he did he turned the Greener harpoon gun at Dalton.

  “If you are not the shark,” Dalton said. “You are the . . .”

  “Nooo . . .” Jedediah said as he charged toward Dalton.

  Dalton jerked the rope tied to the trigger of the Greener as he raised his pistol at Jedediah.

  The large-bore Greener gun exploded loudly. The harpoon rifled from its barrel, hitting Dalton square in the back just as Dalton fired his pistol.

  The bullet missed Jedediah, but the sharp-tipped harpoon went through Dalton and stuck six inches out of his chest.

  Dalton’s arm dropped to his side, and his pistol fell from his grip.

  He looked down at the tip of the harpoon sticking out from his chest. He looked back up to Jedediah. He smiled a little, and then toppled over the gunwale.

  Jedediah took off running and leapt from the dock and onto the moving schooner.

  Captain Chapa quickly released the sail, stopping the schooner’s motion, as Jedediah moved to untie Catherine from the mast.

  Captain Chapa pitched a cleated line around one of the dock bollards and slowed the schooner’s forward movement.

  We moved to the schooner and helped the captain with securing the lines to the docks.

  We got the schooner tied off just as Jedediah freed Catherine from the mast.

  She was trembling and crying. She burst into tears even more as she reached for her husband. She clutched onto him, clinging to him tightly.

  “My God, Henry. Thank God!” Catherine said. “Oh, my . . . my husband . . . my Jedediah, my . . . Jedediah . . . my God, my husband . . . my, my life, you’re here, you are here . . . oh . . .”

  Catherine buried her head into Jedediah’s chest as he held her.

  “Yes, dear,” Jedediah said. “I’m here now. I’m here. It’s all over. I’m here, Catherine . . . I’m here.”

  Catherine pulled back from him, looking up at him. She put her hands on each side of his face and kissed him gently.

  I looked to Alejandro. He was looking at Jedediah and Catherine. He smiled a little, and then his legs gave away and he dropped face-first on the dock.

  87

  Loss is never easy, not even for killers and thieves. We’d been in Veracruz for a week since Dalton yanked the rop
e that fired the harpoon he thought was aimed at Catherine’s heart. A fortuitous end for Dalton and his evil, tormenting ways to die by his own hand, triggering a shark-killing harpoon. If you are not the shark, you’re the fish.

  The majority of the money Dalton stole was recovered from Captain Chapa’s schooner, and Jedediah worked out the necessary details with the Veracruz Bank for the transfer of the capital back to the Comstock Bank in San Cristóbal.

  The weather was pleasant now; there was not a cloud in the sky as Virgil and I walked Jedediah and Catherine to the L. C. Garcia & Company steamer destined for Matamoros. There they’d catch a river steamer up the Rio Grande to Juárez, then take the train back to San Cristóbal, a quicker and less arduous method of travel.

  When we got to the gangway, Virgil looked to Catherine.

  “Ma’am,” Virgil said. “Mind if I have a word with your husband?”

  She smiled and looked to Jedediah.

  “Give us just a minute, dear,” Jedediah said.

  “Certainly, darling,” she said.

  She turned to us and smiled her fetching smile. Even though Catherine had been through a hellish experience, she maintained a particular radiance. She had a stimulating quality I could see maybe concerned some people and got others’ attention, but it was obvious to Virgil and me she loved her husband—no matter what his name was.

  “Gentlemen,” Catherine said. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here with us, for us, for finding me and rescuing me.”

  “Believe your husband had a big hand in you being rescued,” Virgil said.

  She smiled and looked to Jedediah. She kissed him on the cheek.

  “Yes, indeed, I believe he did,” she said. “Gentlemen.”

  We tipped our hats and said good-bye.

  Catherine turned on her heel and walked up the gangway.

  We watched her for a moment.

  “Lovely lady,” Virgil said.

  “Thank you,” Jedediah said, “and I wanted to just say thank you to the two of you and how grateful I am to the both of you. You two men are . . . well, goddamn brave.”

  Virgil pulled a cigar from his pocket as he looked out over the bay.

  “Been meaning to ask you something, Jedediah.”

  “Marshal?”

  Virgil bit the tip of the cigar. He spit it away.

  “Tell me about Henry Strode.”

  Jedediah looked at Virgil, squinting a little, but didn’t say anything.

  Virgil dragged the tip of a match on the bone handle of his Colt, cupped it, and lit the cigar.

  “Who was he?” Virgil said. “Me and Everett are curious.”

  “A good friend,” Jedediah said.

  Virgil puffed on the cigar to get it going as he looked to Jedediah.

  “What happened to him?”

  “He died.”

  “You kill him?” Virgil said as he flicked the match away.

  Jedediah looked at Virgil, then me, then back to Virgil.

  “Galloping consumption killed him,” he said.

  Virgil nodded a bit, working on the cigar.

  “Why’d you take his name?” Virgil said. “His identity?”

  “It was his idea,” Jedediah said. “I had no credentials, I’d never been to school, nothing. He saw it as an opportunity for me, and so did I.”

  “So how’d you learn to do the business stuff,” Virgil said. “Banking business and so forth?”

  “Henry taught me a lot before he died,” Jedediah said. “I worked for him, taking care of his horses. He had no family but had some money, and when he died he left what he had to me. I did the best I could with it and what I learned from him. He was a good man. A real brother to me.”

  Virgil nodded a little, looking at Jedediah as he puffed on the cigar.

  “We supposed to believe that?” Virgil said.

  Jedediah looked to me, then back to Virgil, and smiled.

  “You don’t have a choice,” he said.

  The steamer’s whistle blew loudly. Virgil looked up the gangway, then back to Jedediah. He puffed on his cigar, looking at Jedediah some.

  “Have a good trip, Jedediah,” Virgil said.

  Jedediah looked to me. I tipped my hat. He looked back to Virgil.

  “Thank you,” he said, then turned and walked off up the gangway.

  “You believe him?” I said.

  “Like he said . . . We don’t have a choice.”

  88

  Virgil and I watched as the steamer left the dock, then we walked back to where we’d tied our horses. We mounted up and trotted up a road that traveled above the town and arrived at a large two-story stone building with three flags on tall flagpoles in the front.

  We tied our horses on a hitch under the flags, entered the building, and made our way up to the second floor. We walked down the hall and came to a room with an open door, where Alejandro was sitting in a bed next to a vase of flowers.

  “¡Hola, amigos!” Alejandro said.

  “Better?” I said.

  “Sí,” Alejandro said. “Mucho.”

  Virgil looked around the room a little, then looked to Alejandro.

  “You did all right with our arrangement,” Virgil said, “but you know you are still my prisoner. Don’t you, Alejandro?”

  “Sí, Virgil Cole.”

  Virgil nodded a little and walked to a window and looked out toward the ocean.

  “Been taking good care of you here, it looks like?” Virgil said.

  “Sí,” Alejandro said, looking around the room. “Alejandro is fortunate. This place, this Veracruz naval infirmary, is the same place where my father, he died. He was not as fortunate as Alejandro.”

  Alejandro looked to the flowers.

  “Look at the beautiful flowers! I have never had anyone ever give me flowers. Jedediah and his lovely wife, they brought them for Alejandro. Are they not so very beautiful?”

  “They are,” I said.

  A pretty young nurse wearing a crisp uniform came into the room to check on Alejandro. She smiled at us sweetly, then tended to Alejandro. She touched his head, feeling his temperature, then held his wrist as she looked to a clock, checking his pulse.

  “This is Maria,” Alejandro said as he smiled at her. “She does not know our Americano language and she does also not know one day when I am free I will come back here and she will be Alejandro’s wife.”

  Alejandro grinned at her just as Captain Chapa rapped his knuckles on the doorjamb.

  “Captain!” Alejandro said excitedly. “Bienvenido!”

  “¿Te sientes mejor?” Captain Chapa said.

  “Sí,” Alejandro said as he grinned to Maria. “Who would not feel better with this beautiful woman to look after me.”

  “I wanted to check on you before I left,” Captain Chapa said.

  “¿Dónde vas?” Alejandro said.

  “Vanilla run up the coast,” Captain Chapa said.

  Alejandro nodded a little.

  “One day I will return to see you,” Alejandro said.

  “When do you depart?” Virgil said.

  “Mañana,” Captain Chapa said.

  “You need a first mate?” Virgil said.

  “¿Quién?” Captain Chapa said.

  Virgil pointed to Alejandro.

  “What about him?” Virgil said.

  Alejandro looked to Virgil with a curious expression on his face.

  Virgil met his look.

  “You think you got enough good in you to make a hand?” Virgil said to Alejandro.

  “Virgil Cole . . .” Alejandro said. “I . . . I do not know what to say.”

  “Tell me,” Virgil said.

  Alejandro’s eyes filled with water.

  “Alejandro has enough good in him to make
a hand,” Alejandro said.

  Virgil nodded a bit.

  “Good,” Virgil said.

  Virgil looked to Captain Chapa.

  “Think one day,” Virgil said, “you might be able to make a real captain out of him?”

  Captain Chapa looked to Alejandro and smiled.

  “Sí,” he said.

  “Good,” Virgil said.

  Maria fluffed Alejandro’s pillow, smiled at us, and left the room.

  Virgil looked to Alejandro.

  “This is your chance to be a hero, Alejandro,” Virgil said sternly. “Don’t mess it up.”

  “I won’t, Virgil Cole,” Alejandro said.

  “I see you up America way,” Virgil said, “I will arrest you for trespassing. Comprende?”

  “Comprendo,” Alejandro said.

  Virgil nodded a bit. He looked around the room, then looked back to Alejandro.

  “Good,” Virgil said.

  Virgil and I bid Alejandro and the captain farewell. We left Alejandro’s room and walked down the hall. When we started down the steps, Maria was on the landing between the floors. We tipped our hats and continued on down the steps.

  “Thank you,” Maria said.

  We stopped, turned to her.

  “For?” Virgil said.

  “For giving him a second chance,” she said.

  Virgil looked at me, then Maria.

  “My father is a navy captain,” she said. “Alejandro will, of course, have to ask my father for my hand, and I can assure you my father will make certain any husband of mine will have to run a tidy ship.”

  Virgil looked at me and smiled.

  “Good,” he said.

  She smiled and walked up the steps.

  Virgil and I left the naval infirmary. We mounted up and turned our horses toward the ocean and started back down the road.

  “What do you want to do now?” I said.

  Virgil eased Cortez on a bit before he answered.

  “Why don’t we get out of Mexico,” Virgil said.

  “Why not,” I said.

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