Day of Independence by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2014-04-14T04:00:00+00:00

“You really must stop falling off your horse in the middle of Main Street, Ranger Cannan,” Baptiste Dupoix said. “It’s embarrassing, and folks are getting mighty tired of picking you up.”

“Where am I?” Cannan said.

“In bed where you belong. Roxie says she’ll take a stick to you if you try to escape again.” Dupoix put a new bottle of Old Crow on the bedside table, then said, “Who’s the dead hard case?”

“His name is... was... Esteban. He worked for a bandit by the name of Sancho Perez.”

“A gun?”

“Yeah, class.”

“But you killed him?”

“I got lucky.”

“Better lucky than fast.”

“You could say that.”

“The baby?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Mrs. Agatha Spooner has the squalling tyke, and she says she’ll keep her at home until you’re safely out of town.”

Cannan frowned. “Hell, I did the best I could. What do I know about babies?”

“Damned little, according to Mrs. Spooner.” Dupoix held up the bourbon bottle. “Drink?”

“I sure need one. Are the makings still in my shirt pocket?”

“Right here on the table, and so is your soldier-boy bandana. I picked it up off the street right after they picked you up.”

Dupoix tossed the makings on the bed and then poured two glasses of liquid amber. “Tell me,” he said, passing Cannan his drink.

“Tell you what?”

“Everything.”

“Suppose I’ve got nothing to tell?”

“Then suppose I call you a liar? Your mustache bristles when you’re lying and when you have a good poker hand. Did you know that, Hank? Saw you do that in the hell-on-wheels town.”

“Damn it, are you sure I didn’t hang you, Dupoix?”

The gambler smiled. “Spill it, Ranger.”

“You work for Hacker.” Cannan lit his cigarette. “Why would I tell you anything?”

“Because right now I’m the worst enemy and best friend you’ve got.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Nothing about Last Chance makes any sense.”

Cannan drank half his glass of whiskey and let its golden glow embrace him like the wind of a tipsy angel. Then he said, “I know the locust swarm.”

“Mexicans,” Dupoix said. “Just as I told you.” Dupoix lit a cigar. “I saw their tracks in the desert, remember? It was as though a pharaoh’s army had passed that way.”

“I wasn’t sure I believed you. I figured maybe Hacker had concocted a big windy.”

“You believe me now.”

“Damn right I do. I saw them with my own eyes, more people than I could ever count.”

“They’ll come across the river, starving, and lay waste to the land and sack the town,” Dupoix said. “Then, when it’s over, Hacker will pick up the pieces.”

“How do I stop them?” Cannan said.

“You can’t, big man.”

“You’re right, I can’t. I can’t gun down hungry Mexicans who’ll step over their dead and keep on a-coming because they’re desperate.” Cannan drank again and drew deep on his cigarette. “The Texas Rangers would hang me.”

“Or the Mexican government would.”

“Then I can’t win.”

“Seems like.”

“I can lock up Hacker, put him out of the locust business.”

Dupoix smiled. “That won’t work.” He answered the question on Cannan’s face. “Through Mickey Pauleen and Sancho Perez, Hacker told a couple of thousand ravenous people they were bound for the Promised Land,” Dupoix said.

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