“That right. Low down, no good, sons of bitches. Hard nosed killers. That's what you're up against. Now, soon as I got here I called them off, but they're working for the Railroad, they ain't working for me. Soon as I get shot, or they think I've talked enough, they're gonna start up again on you all, with no worry about hitting women or children, or me for that matter. And that'll be the end of it. Nobody's getting out of her alive. Now, if you let me in there to look in on the state of them prisoners, I'm thinking that might buy us a little time to talk some more. You know, sign of good faith. Me standing out here, their fingers are just getting itchier and itchier...”
Adam let it sink in. He could almost hear them weighing their options.
“Let him in.” A voice said behind the shotgun. It must be Chinese Bob.
“You want him to trick us like he did before?” Trigger Jim replied.
“No tricks this time, I promise.” Adam added. There was silence, and a reluctant grunt.
“Alight, take off that damn jacket so we can see you ain't armed.”
Adam removed his coat, and spun around. Satisfied, a hand popped up from behind the rocks, and waved Adam forward.
Inside the mine, Adam came face to face with Chinese Bob's ten gauge. “No tricks.” He said, gesturing with the shotgun. The first ten yards of the mine were lit with kerosene lamps. At the far end of the illuminated section, a group of dowdy prisoners huddled together under the watchful eye of Curly John and his gun. A man in the the group wore a baggy green cap very similar to the one worn by the Taw pilgrim Adam had met a few weeks before disembarking from the train. The women and children looked terrified. The was another man, hatless, who seemed somehow out of place. Adam coughed, and almost chocked on his tongue in surprise. It was Mr. Thurgood. The executioner of Adam's father's estate.
“Greetings to you, my child.” A voice said beside Adam, snapping him out of his shock of seeing Mr. Thurgood with the prisoners. He has been so distracted that he hadn't seen Diablo standing in the shadows. Wait. Was it Diablo? He was dressed in monastic robes with a rope tied around his middle for a belt. He was the Maniac Monk!
“Why in heck are you wearing that getup?” Adam chuckled. He looked for a sign of a smirk on Diablo's face, but there was none.
“What getup?” Replied Diablo.
“Why are you dressed like a monk?”
“I dress in the robes of my order. These simple garments are all the possessions I need to spread the word of faith and love in our Lord.”
“Why are you talking like that?” Adam asked. When Diablo gave him a sideways look. He turned to Trigger Jim. “Why's he talking like that?”
“His mind has gone!” Trigger Jim said, tapping the side of him temple. “That's what your Maniac Monk does to folk! Drives them insane.”
“What?” Adam said, confused. “My Monk? Who?”
“The Maniac Monk! That haunts these hills! That protects this mine! He took Diablo's mind. Look at him. Loopy as a Sunday Preacher!”
“There's no Maniac Monk.” Adam said with some annoyance. “That's just a tale.”
“It ain't not tale. He's real.” Trigger Jim said, with a tone that sent shivers down Adam's spine.
“He is. We've seen him.” Chinese Bob added.
“He ain't!” Adam steamed. “I should know, I made him up!”
Trigger Jim, Chinese Bob, and Curly John exchanged looks. Diablo seemed to be praying.
“Then why'd you tell us that story?” Curly John asked.
“To get you to take this panned out mine in trade for the kidnapped preacher!”
“This mine maybe panned out, but it is protected.” Trigger Jim said wearily. “Protected by something... Unnatural.”
“It ain't protected by nothing but you idiots.”
“Then what done that to El Diablo?” Curly pointed to the praying man.
“Nothing! He's a soft headed fool!” Adam rubbed his eyes, trying to keep his temper. “Are you going to tell me that the Maniac Monk told you to rob them trains?”
“No, no.” Trigger Jim said, socially. “That was a fella from the Railroad.”
“What?” Adam's ability to process disbelief was wearing thin. “Someone from the Railroad wanted you to rob their own trains?”
“Damn right.” Trigger Jim said proudly. “About two weeks ago, this fella comes on up to talk to us. Says he's heard that we're just about the toughest, no good, band of desperadoes around this territory. Well, I can't rightly contradict him, and he asks us if we'd be interested in robbing us some trains.”
“I don't understand...” Adam asked.
“Said we could keep whatever we took. They didn't care. As long as we made it look good, and scared some folk right well. We'd be safe from prosecution, he told us, as we'd be working for the railroad, and only stealing railroad property.”
“So, what happen?” Adam mind boggled at the possible answers.
“Well the first couple holdups go off right nice. Diablo here is out of his mind, so we figure we put him front and center. That really scares the passengers. Monk waving a six gun. We crack the safe, we take some whiskey-”
“The booze!” Adam had almost forgot his dry bar in all the excitement. A stack of crates to the right of the mine looked like they might be his missing shipment.
“-but we leave the regular folk alone. You know, like the fella had asked. But then this last time, we're working on the safe and those Pinkerton Fellas come riding up on us like the wind. Shooting, yelling, bullets hitting passengers and such. Well, we realize that we're about to get ourselves killed, and for a job that the Railroad has told us to do!. So, we grab these here folks for cover, and we lit out of there! We get back to this here mine, but these Pinkerton men has tracked us. Then the shooting starts. The cabin burns. Then you show up and tell us that these Pinkertons are actually working for the Railroad... Now what's the deal with that? Why the heck would that Railroad set us up to rob them trains only to send these men out to kill us?”
Suddenly Adam became unconcerned with his shipment of whiskey. He realized that Gully was still out there, in the rocks, with the Railroad Agent and the Pinkerton Men.
“I think we're all in deep trouble, boys.” Adam said solemnly.
“What? What do you mean?” Said Curly John, panic in his voice. “Can't you get us out of this? You said you could get us out of this.”
“I said that not having all the facts...” Adam mulled.
“Facts? What facts?”
“I reckon there ain't none of us who are supposed to get out of this mine alive. Me included, now that I've come on in.”
“But the prisoners.”
“I think they're as much a problem as us, fellas.” A shriek rose up out of the hostages. A woman began to cry. “I'm gonna need a gun.”
“What?” Trigger Jim looked at Adam sideways. “You just want us to give you a gun?”
“Don't you understand? Them Pinkerton Men ain't here to free any hostages. They're here to kill you, them and me. Not for robbing no train, but to keep us all quiet. To stop you telling anyone that it was the Railroad that was actually robbing its own trains. To cause a panic.”
“A panic? Panic who?”
“Shippers. Stock holders. Board members. To undermine confidence in the safety of the Northern Pacific.” Adam thought out loud. He looked at Chinese Bob's shotgun that was still pointed at him. “Would you gentlemen mind if I consulted with my attorney?”
“What?” Everyone said at once.
“Right there.” Adam pointed to the small man in the group of hostages. “Mr Thurgood. Would you come here for a second?” Mr. Thurgood stood, and meekly walked over to Adam. “Would, by chance, my father's estate own any stock in the Northern Pacific Railroad?”
“W-W-Why yes.” Mr. Thurgood answered weakly. “In fact, I think your father had a controlling interesting in that particular railroad. Your-”
“Ah! There it is.” Adam interrupted, triumphantly. “I see Deputy Mosley has not been idle.”
“I'm sorry.” Thurgood looked confused. “Mosley?”
“Never you mind. It'd take plumb forever to explain... The fact is Gentlemen, we are pawns in a much large game of chess, and if we ain't careful, we're gonna get right knocked off the board.”
“Well ain't that grand?” Said Trigger Jim sarcastically. “Now, how does any of that help us get the hell out of here?”
Adam scratched his head. “I did say I'd need a gun...”
Trigger Jim walked over to where Diablo was praying, pulled him to his feet, and pulled a Colt Dragoon out of his robes. He dropped Diablo back to the floor, and handed the gun to Adam.
“There. Take Muddlehead's. He won't be needing it.”
“Thank you.” Adam took the gun, cocked the hammer, and shoved it hard into Trigger Jim's ribs. “Sorry, it's the only way out of this.”
“You no good, lying, son-of-a-” Trigger Jim began. Adam pulled the rifle out of his hands, and held it out for Mr. Thurgood.
“Here, take this.” Adam said.
“No, no.” Mr. Thurgood waved his hands nervously. “I wouldn't know... I mean... I've never.”
“Just take it!” Adam threw the rifle, and Thurgood clumsily caught it. “Follow me.” Adam barked, and began to lead Trigger Jim out of the mine.
“I really don't think-” Thurgood stammered.
“Just follow me if you want to get out of this alive!”
Back out in the night air, Adam prodded Trigger Jim forward and let him stumble a few feet in front of him.
“If it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna get you for this.” Sneered Trigger Jim.
“I ain't got time to explain. Just do what I tell ya.” Adam kept the gun leveled.
“Was anything you said back there on the up and up?”