Escape mattered most to him now. Of everyone in the rail yard, he was most likely to be arrested for all the dead bodies. He pounded alongside the train, then launched himself toward the open freight car door. Fingers wrapped around the frame. With a decent kick, he swung up into the empty car.
Ike stared up at a scarecrow of a man. He stood with arms outstretched, as if to drive away birds. His mouth gaped and showed diseased gums interrupted only by one black tooth. Ike thought his clothes had seen better days after the ride from Houston, but this man’s were worse. Dirty, hanging in strips, and when he flapped his arms it looked as if he were nothing more than a garrison flag in a brisk wind.
A defeated garrison.
“Help me in,” Ike said, balancing precariously in the door. He held out his hand for the man to take.
“Bull,” the scarecrow screamed. He batted Ike’s hand away, then planted a surprisingly strong kick in the middle of his would-be traveling companion’s chest.
Ike yelped and fell backward out of the car.
He hit the ground hard, the protest dying on his lips that he wasn’t a railroad detective. By the time he got his breath back, the train had picked up speed and rattled out of the rail yard.
“That didn’t work out for you, did it?”
He looked up at Lily’s mother. She wagged her finger at him as if he were nothing more than a misbehaving student and she was a disapproving schoolmarm.
“Here,” Lily said, reaching down to give him a hand up. Ike’s legs turned rubbery under him. She supported his weight with surprising strength.
“He thought I was a detective,” Ike tried to explain.
“You look like one,” Lily said, “except you’re a month past needing a bath.”
“I look like one?” Ike shook his head in dismay. That was the craziest thing anyone had ever said to him.
“You’ve got the right idea about getting away. The whole depot’s swarming with cops.” Lily released him. He stayed upright. She looked around. “There aren’t any more trains pulling out. What are we going to do?”
“Go to ground,” he said. Ike pointed toward a platform raised for passengers to board their trains. It stretched empty and silent now that all the trains had rolled out. “Hide under the depot until a train pulls in, then sneak aboard with the passengers.”
“The conductor will want to see a ticket. Without one, he’ll throw us off the train,” Lily’s mother protested.
“We’ll be away from San Antonio. That’ll give us new problems, but they’re not likely to be waving six-guns around with the intent of killing us.”
The words barely slid from his lips when a sharp report made him duck. Where the bullet had gone mattered less than being found again. Ike pointed to a tight knot of men. Sunlight flashed off the leading man’s brass badge.
“That’s Kinchloe,” he said. “I think he’s the boss of all the bulls.”
Stepping between them, he circled the women’s waists and herded them toward the depot. The scheme he had conjured up out of thin air disappeared like a mirage now that Kinchloe had them in his sights, but something else might turn up. All he had to do was stay out of custody by Marshal Granger—and not get ventilated by Kinchloe and his henchmen.
The former looked likely as they ran ahead of the detectives, the legitimate lawman nowhere to be seen. The latter seemed unlikely as bullets kicked up cinders and dirt all around them.
“Go, go, go,” Lily’s mother cried, jerking free of Ike’s embrace.
He tried to stop her from dashing up the depot steps. She twisted about agilely, and he missed grabbing her by inches. Then he lost his balance when Lily yanked on his arm.
“Let her go. She can take care of herself.”
“They’ll gun her down.”
“They want to turn her over to Zachary for the reward.”
He wasn’t in any position to argue. Kinchloe kept shooting. As the detective ran closer, his aim improved. Ike found himself worried more about Lily being hit by a stray bullet than catching an ounce of lead himself. Spinning around, he swung her off her feet. This let him regain his own equilibrium. He caught a last glimpse of the woman’s mother ducking inside the depot.
That took care of part of his problem. She was on her own now and likely to fare better than he was if he kept trying to protect her daughter.
Above the building billowed clouds of white steam from an engine parked on the far side. If she was lucky, she might get aboard and pull out of the station before the cinder bulls found her.
“In there,” he said, pushing Lily through the open door to a baggage storeroom. He followed her, then kicked the door shut with his heel. “Go on. Find the door leading up to the platform. Join your mother and hightail it.” Ike fell back heavily against the door, his shoulders heaving with strain.
“You can’t hold the door against them. There are too many.” Lily stood with feet wide and her fists on her hips. She had the same disapproving schoolmarm look her mother had been using with him.
Ike hunted frantically for a locking bar. There wasn’t one. Worse, a bullet tore a thumb-sized hole to the left of his head. The detectives fired through the wood door. He dragged a steamer trunk over and tipped it against the door. It barely had leaned into place when someone crashed into the door and splintered a panel. A hand clutching a six-gun poked through the hole. The pistol fired once before Ike grabbed the man’s wrist. He fought for possession of the gun. Luck went his way when he yanked down hard. The gunman let out a howl of pain as his wrist broke. The gun fell to the floor from numbed fingers.
“Find the other door. Hurry!” He scooped up the pistol and thrust it through the broken panel. His targets were hidden, but he wasn’t interested in actually hitting anyone. All he wanted was to sow panic. He began firing. Ike grunted when someone brought a steel gun barrel down on his wrist. His grip broken on the gun, he let loose and pulled back. Turnabout was fair play.
From the confused cries on the other side, he had achieved all he could have hoped, even if they had turned the tables on him.
He backed away, rubbed his wrist then turned and wove this way and that through the stacked bags and trunks. Lily waved for him to join her at the foot of stairs leading up into the depot.
He started to berate her for not preceding him. Then he saw the door at the top of the steps was securely fastened. Lowering his head like a charging bull, he ran full tilt up the steps and smashed his shoulder into the door. Wood splintered as it exploded off its hinges. He landed on top of the door, momentarily dazed. Lily stepped over him.
“Oh, don’t stare like that. Haven’t you ever seen a man too drunk to stand?” She made shooing sounds and helped him up. Her breath came hot in his ear as she whispered, “Those old biddies think you’re drunk. Act drunk.”
Ike’s vision cleared. They had burst into a waiting room. Four old ladies perched primly on a bench, lips pressed together and looking reproachful.
“Top of the morning, ladies,” he said, slurring his words just a little. “Any of you have a flask? I seem to have misplaced mine and can use a wee nip.” He worked his way down the row, each woman pointedly turning away. Not a one of them would be able to identify him because they showed their outrage by refusing to look at him, but there wasn’t going to be any need for them ever to point him out. If the marshal came to investigate a disturbance, he was caught. And if Kinchloe followed, he was dead.
Who else would cause such chaos but the man they all chased?
“This way, dear,” Lily said. She called back over her shoulder, “I’m sure we can find a saloon open somewhere.”
Ike lowered his chin and pulled his hat down further to hide his face. They still refused to look at him, but he wanted to be sure the passengers had no chance at all of positively describing him.