They hurried out, and Sky strode over to the walnut cabinet where he kept his guns. He ignored the rifles and the shotgun, but laid out all the revolvers he owned. He chose two worn .44’s, and after carefully loading them, put them in a belt with double holsters. He’d always despised two-gun men, but now he buckled the weapons on, then pulled his hat from the peg and left the house.
****
A short, stocky puncher came through the double doors of the Silver Moon. Hurrying down the long room, he pulled up and said excitedly, “I just seen that Winslow feller, Mr. Poole. He come in and went down to Lawyer Hill’s office.”
Poole said swiftly, “Get back there and keep an eye on him, Fred. I want to know what he’s up to.”
As the man wheeled and left the saloon, Dandy said, “You don’t have to wonder about what Winslow’s going to do, Poole.” He took a drink from the glass in front of him and added, “He’ll come along with Birdwell and Lloyd to arrest Roy.”
Roy Hart was a slender man, with long yellow hair that fell to his shoulders and a pair of muddy brown eyes. He was something of a dandy, judging by the way he dressed, but the frilly shirt and fancy vest did not conceal the hard edge of his character. He wore two guns strapped to his thighs, and even as he spoke his hands caressed the butts of the weapons.
“This Winslow,” he remarked carelessly, “he’s supposed to be some sort of gunfighter?”
Ingerson’s huge bulk filled the chair he sat in, and his heavy shoulders leaned forward for emphasis. “Don’t make any mistake about this fellow, Roy. He went up against Del Laughton—and beat him. And you know Del.”
“He let Laughton go for his iron first,” Dandy put in. “Let Del get his guns clear—then draw and put him down.”
“I haven’t seen a draw that fast since Speedy Langsdell was around,” Poole commented, and his brow clouded. “This thing is mighty tricky—on the razor’s edge, I tell you! We got a lot of support in town right now, but if we don’t play our hands right, we’re all finished.” He studied the slender gunman carefully. “Roy, I think you’ll hang if they ever take you. The townspeople are pretty scared right now; but if Birdwell can get you locked up, it’ll put some steel in their backbones. I’ll be finished here—but you’ll be stretching a rope.”
Poole’s words did not seem to worry Hart. Pulling one of his guns from the holster, he spun the cylinder and purred, “Guess I can take Winslow out.” There was a deadly quality in the man that seemed to satisfy Poole.
“All right. I figure they’ll be coming here as soon as they get all the help they can. They’ll come through the front door, so you stay right at this table, Roy—make them come to you. Ingerson, you be at the bar close to the door. Let them walk by you so that you’re behind them—that way they’ll be in a crossfire.”
“We got to get Birdwell!” Ingerson grunted. “He ain’t gonna quit as long as he’s alive, Poole.”
“That’s right,” the ex-mayor said. “But if we can wipe him out, we can call for another election—and I’ll be in office until that happens.”
“And I guess there won’t be too many candidates for mayor after the town sees what happened to Birdwell, right, Poole?” Dandy sneered. “I’ll get my rifle and get on the landing.” He waved at the long landing that ran overhead on one side of the saloon leading to the rooms where the girls lived. “I’ll cut down anybody you miss, Roy.”
“That’s it, then,” Poole said, rising to his feet. “If I had my way, I’d be here for this thing—but I’ve got to stay clear of it. You boys understand.”
“Sure,” Dandy smirked. “Take a little vacation, Matthew. I figure in an hour or so, you’ll be the official mayor of Oregon City.” With a crooked grin, he watched Poole leave. “He’ll take care of number one, Roy—you can bet on that.” Taking another drink, he said, “Don’t think we’ll have too much trouble. These townsmen are sheep. I figure Birdwell won’t be able to deputize more than three or four, if that.”
Clay Hill was passing along the same thought to Sky inside his crowded office. Sky had come in unexpectedly and tossed an envelope on the lawyer’s desk, saying, “Here’s my will, Clay, and that deed you worked up for me. Change the name on it to Rebekah Winslow.”
“What’s this, Sky?” Hill asked in bewilderment. “She’s your wife, so she would get the place if anything happened to you.”
“I want it to be hers free and clear. I’m leaving the country, but I want her to have the place. And here’s a check—see to it that she and the kids get what they need. Make that legal, Clay, and hurry.”
“All right, Sky. It won’t take much doing.” He sat down and quickly made a few notations, then said, “Sign right here.” As soon as Sky had signed the paper, Hill asked, “You’re pulling out, Sky?” His thin face was etched with disappointment. “Didn’t figure on that. You know about Lake?”
“Edith came out and told me.”
“You going to give Sam a hand?” Clay asked hopefully.
“You don’t even have to ask—do you, Clay?”
Hill’s face brightened, and he clapped his friend on the shoulder. “ ’Course not! What am I thinking of, asking you a fool question like that?” Then he frowned doubtfully. “It’s going to be close, Sky. No volunteers rushing to join up. They’re afraid of Roy Hart. All of ’em.”
“Can’t blame them much,” Sky shrugged, then lowered his voice. “We’ve got to keep Sam out of this thing, Clay. He’s never even fired a pistol, far as I know.”
“Maybe not—but there’s no chance of keeping him out of it.” Hill bit his lip, adding, “I’ve tried to get him to wait until we can get a federal marshal here to arrest Hart—but he says it’s now or never. And I reckon he’s right, Sky. If we don’t take care of Tom Lake’s murder, we’ll never have anybody willing to go up against Poole and Ingerson.”
“I know that, but what good will Lake’s death do if Sam gets killed as well? The whole thing’s on his shoulders, Clay.” He paused and asked, “Is he down at the sheriff’s office?”
“Yeah, hoping for some volunteers—which he won’t get.”
“Here’s what we’ll do—I’ll send him over to see you on some excuse, and while he’s here, we’ll arrest Hart.”
Hill listened carefully and a grin touched his lips. “He’ll never forgive us if we do that, Sky.”
“He’ll be alive, though,” Sky answered dryly, standing up to go. “I’ve got one little errand, Clay. You go on and I’ll be with you in fifteen minutes.”
He walked out of the office, then swung into the saddle. “Are you going to arrest that gunfighter now, Pa?” Joe asked. His face was pale as he scrambled into the saddle and turned his horse to follow Sky.
“Joe, I want you to promise me something.” Sky twisted in his saddle to look at the boy, ignoring his question. “I’ve been through some pretty tight scrapes in my day. A few times I was sure I’d lose my scalp. This is one of those times, Son—it’s going to be pretty tough. That’s why it would please me if you’d make me one promise.”
Joe’s throat thickened with fear, and he had to wait until it cleared before he said, “What—what is it?”
“Son, I married Rebekah so that you’d have a mother. She’s a fine woman. I reckon you know that, don’t you?”
“Sure, Pa!”
Sky dropped his gaze and was silent as they made their way down the street. They passed several citizens who gave Sky a startled glance, then scurried off quickly. One burly miner said audibly, “Wal, so Winslow’s come to town! That oughta make this here thing more even!”
Sky didn’t seem to hear the man; looking again at his son, he said, “I’ve made a heap of mistakes in my day, Joe. But the way I’ve treated Rebekah—that’s the worst of them all. She’s true grain, Son—and I made a servant out of her.”
“Aw, Pa, she won’t hold it against you!”
“This is hard, Joe, but one day you’ll learn that some mistakes don’t wash out.” A hard line creased Sky’s lips, a
nd regret made his voice tight and low. “It’s too late for Rebekah and me to get back together. I’m pulling out of here if I make it through alive.”
“Where we going, Pa?”
“That’s what I want you to promise,” Winslow replied. “I want you to say that you’ll stay here with Rebekah and the kids. They’ll need some help—and you’re gonna have to grow up in a hurry.” He hesitated, then said, “I expect Jim will marry Rebekah—and if he does, there’s no man alive I’d trust to be a dad to you more than Jim O’Malley.”
“Pa—!”
“I’m asking you to do this thing, Son,” Sky said quietly. “You’ve got to have a home—and I’ve proven I can’t give you one.” Sadly, he looked away, for he saw the tears glistening on the boy’s cheek and could not bear to see him cry. They rode along until they came to the Birdwell house, where Sky dismounted and waited until Joe did likewise. “It’d make me feel real good, Joe, if you’d give me your word on this.”
Joe wiped the tears from his face, and said with a timid but solemn voice, “I—I promise, Pa—if that’s what you want.”
At that, Sky reached out and pulled the boy close. He had not been demonstrative toward his son, but now held him tightly, feeling the thin body shake with sobs. Should have done this a long time ago! Would’ve been much easier! he thought uneasily.
O’Malley had been visiting Rebekah at Edith’s when he saw two horses coming down the street. “Rebekah, here come Sky and Joe. I reckoned he’d come when he found out about Tom.”
Rebekah stared at him, her face pale. “He’ll be in the fight, won’t he, Jim?”
“You know Sky, Becky.” The burly hunter shrugged with a worried look on his dark face. “The word is that Poole and Ingerson got a small army over at the Silver Moon. It’d take maybe ten good men to put up a scrap with them—and from what I hear, this fancy gunfighter has scared off most folks.”
“We’ve got to do what Clay says—wait for the marshal to come!”
“Never knew a single soul who had any success in making Sky Winslow wait for anything, Becky. He’s fool stubborn when he gets his mind set.”
A knock punctuated his words, and Rebekah opened the door. “Come in, Sky . . .” she said, taking in the two guns strapped in his holster. Jim was right—nothing she could say would change what he was about to do.
“Jim, I need a word alone with Rebekah if you don’t mind.”
“Sure. Be waiting outside.”
Sky waited until O’Malley stepped out; then he turned to her, his eyes intense. “Rebekah, I wish things were different between us—but words don’t change things.”
“Sometimes they do,” she argued.
His face was stretched taut, his features emotionless. The high cheekbones and the faint coppery tint of his complexion revealed the blood of his Sioux mother plainly as he stood before her.
“I’ve got a little chore to take care of,” he said evenly, “And then I’m riding out.”
“Where are you going, Sky?” Rebekah asked.
He shrugged. “Haven’t thought much about it—but what I have thought about is you and the kids. I’ve asked Joe to stick around for a while—and he’s agreed. Now I’d like a promise from you.”
“What—what is it, Sky?”
The only sign of his tension was the fact that his hands were clenched tightly at his sides. “Take care of Joe.”
She saw that he was counting himself a dead man, and she could not speak from the fear that rose to her throat. She nodded silently, and reached out to hug the boy as Joe turned his face away, trying to hide his tears. “Yes, Sky. I’ll do that.”
Winslow relaxed visibly. “That’s it, I guess.” As he turned to go, he halted. “See Clay Hill today. He’s got something for you.”
He hesitated, looked fondly at his son and quickly pulled him into one last bear hug. Feeling the thin arms around his neck, once more he wished he’d been able to do this earlier. Winslow looked over Joe’s head at his wife and said, “Rebekah—for all I’ve done to you—I’m truly sorry.”
Then with a sudden move, he pulled Joe’s arms from around his neck and passed out of the room before she could speak. The scene had paralyzed her, robbing her of words, as the impact of what Sky had said hit her full force. She looked at Joe, who ran to her and buried his face in her shoulder. Holding him, she realized for the first time the real reason Sky was doing this foolhardy thing. Breaking away from Joe, she ran to the door.
“Sky!” she cried out, but he and Jim had mounted their horses and were already well on their way to the center of town. She heard Joe come up beside her and told him, “Joe—watch out for Timmy and Mary!” Then she grabbed a coat and began walking rapidly toward the cluster of buildings that marked Main.
Sky and O’Malley spurred their mounts to a run, and it was not until they dismounted in front of the low building with the SHERIFF’S OFFICE sign that Sky asked, “You sure you want in on this thing, Jim?”
“Always liked to tree coons, Sky,” O’Malley shrugged. “This here sounds like quite a coon hunt.”
“Likely to be more coons than hunters this time,” Sky remarked. Then he stopped with his hand on the door. “I’m pulling out of here when this thing is over, Jim.” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You were right about Rebekah, Jim. I was dead wrong. I hope that whatever happens, you’ll take care of her.”
“Sky—!” O’Malley protested with a startled look on his face, but Winslow set his jaw stubbornly. He opened the door and found a small group of men standing in the center of the room.
“Sky!” Sam Birdwell’s face brightened, and he looked relieved. “You come to join the party?”
Sky saw Dave Lloyd to Sam’s left, and to his surprise Al Riker and his son Pete stood over to Birdwell’s right. “Glad to see you, Winslow,” Al said, coming to shake his hand. “Don’t mind tellin’ you, I feel a lot better with you in this thing.”
“This is Omar Skates, Sky. He’s a good man.” Dave motioned to the final member of the group, a hard-faced man who nodded curtly toward Sky. “You in on this, too, O’Malley?”
“Always wanted to be a lawman,” Jim commented with a sly look in his eye.
“I’ll deputize you then,” Dave decided, drawing some badges out of a drawer. Handing them to Sky and Jim, he said, “It’s official; now you’re both deputies.”
“How we going to do this, Sheriff?” Pete Riker asked. He held up his steel hook, saying, “If Tom Lake hadn’t been there to cut my arm off, I figure I’da been dead on the trail. But I got one good arm, and I don’t aim to let Poole and his crowd by with it. Somebody’s going to go down for Tom!”
Sky said quickly, “Before we get started, Clay wants to see you at his office, Sam.”
Birdwell frowned. “It can wait.”
“No, he’s got some sort of idea that may help us,” Sky insisted. “Clay’s pretty sharp, Sam. Go check it out while Dave gives us some idea of the plan.”
“Well—all right. Be back as soon as I can.”
He hurried out of the office, and as soon as the door closed, Sky said, “Dave, me and Clay set this up. Sam has no business in this thing.”
Dave Lloyd looked mildly surprised, but agreed. “I tried to tell him that, but he wouldn’t listen.” He shifted his weight nervously. “This is new to me, Sky. You got any ideas?”
“Just one—every mob has a key, Dave. Get him, and the rest will fold.”
“And you figure Hart’s the key?”
“Sure.” Sky looked around at the small group and said, “They’re primed and ready to blast away. We’ve got to do something to get them rattled.”
“Bet you’ve already got that little item in your conk, ain’t you, Sky?” O’Malley grinned and slapped his thigh. “Reminds me of the time over in the Teton foothills at Horse Creek. Remember when that Flathead war party got us pinned down in that canyon?”
Sky smiled, and the heaviness that had been in his face lightened. “Shore, Ho
ss! We were gone coons that time. But I figure we can lessen the odds a mite.” He nodded at Dave and instructed, “You four walk right down the middle of Main so that Ingerson’s bunch gets advance notice you’re coming. They’ll be waiting inside the Silver Moon; and I figure they’ll have men planted, so when you walk in don’t stay in a bunch. Move around until you’re scattered. Dave, you’re not much of a talker—but this time, you’ll have to be.”
Lloyd looked curious. “I’ll talk my head off, Sky—but what’s going to even things up?”
“You just keep talkin’, Dave, and Jim and me will find some way to get them rattled.” He took a deep breath and let it out in a big sigh. “It’s not going to get any easier, so let’s get ’er done!” He took off his heavy coat and touched the butts of his weapons. O’Malley grinned as if the whole thing pleased him. “Let’s see the way she goes.”
“We’ll go the back way, Dave,” Sky directed. “You keep talkin’ your head off—but don’t pull a gun until you hear from Jim and me.”
“All right,” Dave murmured. His face was a little pale, but he replied strongly, “Let’s do it.”
As the four men passed out into the street, Sky said, “My guess is that Ingerson’s got a man watching pretty close. Let’s see if we can sneak up on these birds, Jim.” He went out the back door into the alley, which was deserted.
Clouds covered the sun, and as they made their way down the long alley, Sky was thinking hard. As they came to Elm, he said, “If they spot us crossing, we’re goners, Jim.” He peered out cautiously, and saw only an old woman with a cane making her way painfully along, her back to them. “All right,” he murmured, and the two of them dashed down Elm, turned the corner and whipped into the alley backing the line of saloons on Main. There they saw only one man, a drunk who was just getting to his feet after a rough night. He took one look at the two of them and ran clumsily away, disappearing around a corner.
“This is it,” Sky said, stopping to look up at the three-story frame building. He put his hand on the knob. “You ready?”
“Let ’er flicker,” O’Malley answered, his eyes alive with the sense of danger.
The Reluctant Bridegroom Page 30
