Chapter Fourteen
When he had found the dead man’s horse, which had been tied at a distance of about a quarter-mile from the hold-up point, McAllister picked up the tracks of the man going into the valley and followed them. He did not waste any time, for now he was conscious of a sense of urgency. The chance that the shots had been heard was too great for his comfort. Not because of personal danger. He was troubled that his recovery of the gold and his arrest of the culprits might be prevented.
He was in a strange and uneasy frame of mind, for the encounter with the man who now lay dead among the trees had shaken him. He had come as near as he had ever been to being killed by another man’s bare hands. And the need for a killing had come upon him too much unawares. Now, he told himself, a man had died. This was the point a sane lawman never wanted to reach. Once the guns were out, a milestone had been passed. Gangs of lawless men reacted always in the same way to such a killing. Their own reluctance to kill would now be removed. He could only hope that it would be some time before the men discovered their loss. He wondered also if the dead man had kin or a close friend among the remainder of the bunch. The last thing McAllister wanted was to be opposed by a man dedicated to his demise.
Feeling mentally and physically battered, he headed down into the valley, leading his two horses after him. The captured animal was a fine-drawn bay with a delicate manner and an alert eye. Altogether a good and amiable animal. It was a gelding that followed along nicely with the mare, Sally.
The damp nature of the ground made the first part of the tracking job a cinch. Any fool could have done it. But once McAllister was down out of the foothills into the valley itself, he found that the rider had turned his mount sharply across the valley on the shortest route either to Howard Creek or to the town road beyond. The man might lose his tracks in the creek or, if the traffic was heavy enough, in the recent tracks on the road itself. By noon, the fellow could be safe in town.
Maybe not so safe. The man would be a stranger, and strangers were always noticed in small towns.
At the same time, McAllister was acutely aware that the man was not necessarily a stranger. He hoped fervently that he was not a local man. Local men had kin and friends and an arrest, like a wounding or killing, could lead to trouble which could dribble on through generations. But he would worry about that kind of thing when he came to it.
It was past noon when he halted on the bank of the creek and saw where the man’s horse had entered the water. It-had done so at an exact right-angle to the bank, giving him not the slightest idea which direction the man may have taken. He took his horses across with the water coming up to his stirrup-irons. The flow was fairly strong and the horses were inclined to drift with it. He took them up the far bank, dismounted and tied them to a willow there. Now, he ranged on foot up and down the bank searching both sides for any sign of the man landing and found none. He knew that the man could have ridden the creek all the way north to the end of the valley, gone into the Breaks and headed for town through the western hills. Just the same, he reckoned he should take a gamble and make a few short-cuts himself. Speed was important now. He found that he was starting to get a little rattled and he did not like that one little bit. None of this business was working out as he had planned. He reckoned he had over-estimated himself. Maybe it would do him good to eat a little humble pie.
He hurried back to his horses and sent them at a run along the road for home.
Lige was in the yard, all gangling length and wide eyes. He registered the strange horse and McAllister’s battered appearance.
McAllister swung out of the saddle and said: ‘Lige, you listen good and answer me real smart, hear?’ The boy nodded. ‘Any riders been past here in the last couple of hours, on the road, off the road, even along the creek bed?’
Lige thought. He wanted to ask questions. What had happened? Why was McAllister’s face bloody? Who owned the strange horse? But he dared not. He said: ‘Ranch buckboard come along the road from the north soon after first light. There was a man rid along the ridge through the trees maybe an hour back. Going toward town. Mr Mittlehouse’s foreman come over the crick a while back. Ain’t seen hide nor hair of nobody else.’
‘Where’s your pa?’
‘He went off for town yesterday. Told Ma he was doing a chore for you, boss. He ain’t come home and Ma is a-worrying some.’
McAllister passed the horses’ lines to him and said: ‘Saddle the mare and throw the other two into the starve-out. Feed ’em both.’
Lige said: ‘Mr Tully sent word. If you come home you was to get yourself into town like the heel flies was after you.’
‘All right,’ said McAllister. ‘See to the horses. I’ll go see your ma.’
But Bella Copley was on her way and she was running, which was not a thing she did often, for she was a woman of some dignity. Now her pretty face was shining with sweat and her eyes were worried.
‘Miz McAllister,’ she said before she reached him, ‘what happen to my man?’
‘I don’t know, Bella.’
She stopped and stared at his face. ‘You been hurt.’
‘Some.’
‘Is Mose in trouble?’
‘I thought he’d be safe enough,’ McAllister said and felt guilty as hell. He did not have the right to drag the Copleys into this. ‘I don’t know now. Not after what happened.’
‘Is Mose in town?’
‘Should be.’
‘I want to go to him.’
McAllister hesitated. Then he said: ‘Sure. Lige, leave these horses to me. Catch up the buckboard team and hitch ’em. Pronto.’
Lige knew when speed was wanted. And he could move. He grabbed a rope and went over the corral fence in a flash. McAllister unsaddled Oscar and put his rig on the mare. He wheeled out the buckboard and in no time at all he and Lige had backed the team into it and hitched them. He handed Bella onto the buckboard and tied the mare on behind. Then he jumped up beside Bella and lifted the lines.
‘Lige,’ he said, ‘you stay close now.’ Then he cracked the whip around the ears of the two horses and they hit their traces together. He went out of the yard like a bat out of hell and Bella clung onto him.
As they swung out onto the road and the horses stretched out for town, McAllister said: ‘Bella, you start giving me hell and you’ll be wasting your breath. I’m giving it myself already.’
‘So you should, Miz McAllister,’ said Bella.
Mark Tully was standing on the sidewalk outside the saloon when McAllister drew rein. Mark was frowning, and he had one of those frowns which seemed to darken the whole world around him. He helped Bella down from the buckboard as McAllister tied the lines and put the whip away.
Mark told Bella: ‘He’s in my back room, Bella. He’s going to be all right. The doc’s seen to him.’ She hurried inside.
McAllister walked around the buckboard and said: ‘What happened?’
Mark said: ‘How the hell should I know what happened? Some kid found Mose in deep timber beyond Joe Ramage’s house. Somebody had beaten him, but good. I would reckon they’d left him for dead. They just didn’t have a notion how tough old Mose is. But he sure don’t look pretty.’
‘And Joe?’
‘Joe? Why, as far as I know he’s still on his back porch counting his millions.’
‘Any strangers ridden into town this morning?’
‘None that I know of.’
McAllister noticed that Mark had pinned the deputy’s badge on his ornate vest. It had been carefully polished. Mark was a dresser. McAllister tapped the badge with a finger-nail and said: ‘Thanks, Mark.’
‘Somebody has to watch the town while you’re drifting around the countryside. How come your face ain’t as pretty as usual?’
McAllister told him, omitting nothing, but not making a long story of it. The blackness of Mark’s frown deepened.
‘Here we go,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d left all this kind of thing behind me. To tell you the truth, Re
m, I lost my taste for it. A man does, you know, as he matures.’
McAllister said: ‘How about Stevenson? You seen him around town this morning?’
‘Sure. He had breakfast at the Chinaman’s. Then he visited with Lindholm at the bank.’
McAllister said: ‘I’ll go see Joe.’ He untied the mare from the rear of the buckboard and stepped into the saddle. He sent her at a brisk clip down Main and turned her into Morrow for Joe’s house. Now he knew something he had not wanted to know. There had been four men at the original hold-up. Now he was certain that there were at least five. Possibly six. Some of the gang had been here in town while four of them had stopped the stage and taken the gold. He was starting to feel nervous about that gold. The uneasy feeling that he had lost it for good was growing fast.
He rode clear round the Ramage place and saw Joe sitting on his back porch. Joe did not lift a hand in greeting, but watched him as he halted and swung down from the saddle. The girl came out of the house as he tied the mare to the picket fence.
As he approached the porch, McAllister said: ‘Good morning, Miss Allison. Morning, Joe.’ They no more than murmured their reply; He thought the girl looked a little scared, but he could have been wrong.
‘Joe,’ he said, ‘neither of you look too pleased to see me. Did I do something wrong?’
‘No,’ the old man said. ‘You didn’t do nothing wrong. You’re welcome, Rem.’
‘I don’t know what gave you that idea, Sheriff,’ the girl said.
‘Did something happen while I was out of town?’
‘Not as far as we know,’ the girl said. Joe did not say a word.
‘Didn’t you hear about Mose Copley getting himself hurt?’ McAllister asked.
‘Old Mose hurt?’ said Joe. ‘That’s bad.’
‘Who is Mose Copley?’ asked the girl. She was wearing a dress of a lavender color and McAllister had never liked that color. It was the first time there had been anything about the girl which he did not like. The rise and fall of her breasts caught his attention. She was out of breath. Had she just run from somewhere? Or was she suffering from tension?
‘Mose Copley,’ he told her, ‘was the man I put to watching this house so that no harm should come to either of you. Somebody did their best to ruin his good looks. They also tried to crack his skull. I reckon it’s most likely, all in all, that whoever did it left him for dead. Only the Mose Copley’s of this world don’t die so easy.’
The girl was pale. She put her hand over her mouth. ‘We didn’t hear or see anything,’ she said.
‘Maybe you didn’t want to,’ he said.
He turned and started back down the path. He was wasting his time here.
‘Sheriff …’
He stopped and turned – ‘Ma’am?’
‘I’m sorry about Mr Copley,’ she said. He turned and walked back to them. He put a foot up on the raised porch and rested an elbow on his knee. He fixed his gaze on the old man.
‘Tell me about the men who were here, Joe,’ he said.
‘Men?’ said Joe. ‘What men?
‘The men who were here.’
‘There wasn’t no men here.’
McAllister was watching the girl now, missing nothing that she tried to conceal from her face. She was new to this kind of thing. A few more episodes of this kind and she would be hard-boiled, but she was still too soft yet. She was scared for herself and she cared in some way for Joe.
‘Allison saw the men,’ McAllister said. ‘Didn’t you, Allison?’
She tore her gaze from the old man and looked at McAllister. ‘I think you’ve gone a little crazy, Sheriff,’ she said. ‘I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Sure,’ McAllister said, ‘oh, sure,’ and turned to head for the white gate again. By the time he reached his horse, the girl was through the gateway and restraining him with a hand on his arm. He found that he liked her touch.
‘Sheriff.’ Her voice was soft. She offered the sound of it like a prayer. ‘Have a thought for Uncle Joe. He’s going through a hard time with the gold being stolen. He doesn’t know whether he’s on his head or his heels. Just leave him alone for a while.’
He looked down at her. No woman ever had more beautiful eyes.
‘I’m scared for Joe all right,’ he said. ‘But I’m more scared for you.’
‘Me?’ Her surprise was genuine.
‘You’ve got yourself into something which is way out of your depth, girl. I have a notion this is the first time for you, but I’ve been here a dozen times before. I know the pattern. Today, the first man was killed. I killed him. Now it all starts. Nobody will stop. Nobody’ll hold back. Once the killing starts, it ain’t so damn easy to stop.’
‘The man you killed …’
‘One of them. One of the road agents. Before we’re through, there’ll be another and another. Now’s the time to stop it before it’s too late.’
When he mentioned the killing of a road agent, he saw the stark terror in those eyes. She could control her face, but there was no controlling the eyes. They are the last thing a woman learns to control.
She got a grip on herself. She was a tough little number, and he had to admire the way she rallied.
‘You talk as if I was in some way to blame,’ she said. ‘Prove otherwise.’
‘How?’
‘Tell me about the men who came to talk to Joe.’
She took her hand from his arm. ‘There were no men.’
‘Are you telling me that nobody came today?’
‘People came, yes.’
‘Such as?’
‘Mr Stevenson was here.’
‘Nobody else?’
‘Nobody. And that’s the truth.’
He patted her on the shoulder and said: ‘Go give Joe a strong drink. He looks like he needs one. You most likely could use one yourself.’ Then he mounted the mare and turned her away. He did not look back but sent her at a fast trot back into town.
Chapter Fifteen
Doc Robertson was coming away from Mark Tully’s back room as McAllister walked into the saloon. He said: ‘Rem, Bella wants to take Mose home. I have no objection, but he’s going to need some good nursing. My God, I’ve never seen a man beaten like it. It must have been done by a madman.’
‘What’re Mose’s chances?’
‘Oh, he’ll pull through – eventually. No saying what he’ll be like. At the moment, he’s talking fairly lucidly. He comes and goes.’
‘All right if I ask him a few questions?’
‘Sure. But go easy. Don’t excite him at all.’
The doctor went out and McAllister went in to the back room and found Mose there with Bella and Mark Tully.
Mark kept a bed in his office and they had laid Mose on this. He was propped up on pillows. His head was bandaged heavily and the bandages covered one eye. His good eye was closed. Bella sat on the bed beside him and clung to a hand.
McAllister went and put a hand on Bella’s shoulder. He said: ‘Bella, it don’t do any good to be sorry, but I was never more sorry than I am this minute. It was just I needed a man I could trust and I trusted Mose.’
She looked up at him coldly and said: ‘That don’t alter anything. Enough have happened to this poor man already. Can’t nobody leave him be?’
Mose opened his eye and saw McAllister.
McAllister said: ‘Mose, do you feel like talking at all?’
Bella said: ‘Maybe he do and maybe he don’t. But he ain’t doing no talking. He going to stay still and rest up.’
‘I got to tell the boss just one thing, Bella.’
‘Just one is all, then.’
McAllister leaned forward to hear Mose more clearly. ‘It were dark, boss. I couldn’t see nothing. But I know one thing – he have a thick ring on the small finger of his right hand. He hit me with it. He were tall like you and he smell like a white woman.’
McAllister nodded. ‘I got him in one, Mose. Thanks. Mark, do you have a spring wago
n we can get Mose home in?’
‘Leave it with me,’ Mark said. Together McAllister and Tully walked out into the corridor. Tully halted and said: ‘You going to catch these men, Rem?’
‘Sure.’
‘Only I have a liking for that black man. Anything I can do.’
‘I’ll need you, all right, when the time comes.’
Ten minutes later, they were gingerly carrying Mose Copley to the wagon which was drawn up alongside the loading platform behind the saloon. Lon McKenna, the mayor, found them there. The little man looked flustered and upset. He stood and looked at Mose as he lay in the wagon-bed and made disapproving noises with his tongue. When he drew McAllister aside, he said: ‘The town expects results, Rem. Sure, I know some of the folks were never too partial to having a black working in town and doing well like Mose did, but he’s held in high regard by a good many of us. We expect to see somebody punished for this.’
‘All right, Lon. You’re the justice of the peace. You back me when I do something.’
Bella drove the wagon and McAllister the buckboard. They went at a careful walking pace so that Mose would not be jogged.
Josiah Ramage, millionaire, woke in the middle of the night. He was brought from his uneasy sleep by something hard being pressed against his left temple.
As soon as he opened his eyes, he saw that his bedroom was bathed in the cold light of the moon. As he turned his head, the first thing he saw was the gun muzzle which had woken him.
A voice said: ‘Stay still.’
The shape of the man seemed huge in the moonlit room. It was black and featureless. The old man was very frightened.
The man holding the gun said: ‘There’s no call for talk. All you have to know is the girl’s been taken. We’ll give you till tomorrow night to think about it. We won’t hurt her till we ask you about the gold again. If we don’t get the right answers then, we’ll hurt her a little. Then you get another twenty-four hours, and if you don’t tell us then, we’ll hurt her a lot. Just bear in mind that we know all about hurting people.’
The man carefully lowered the hammer of the gun with his thumb from full-cock, put the gun away and turned for the door. Whiskey Joe slid his hand under his pillow for his own belt-gun and found that it was gone. He heard his bedroom door close quietly.
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