by Paul Lederer
Since the man behind them held a cocked Winchester on them, there wasn’t a lot of point in arguing the point and no sense trying to delay the inevitable.
Laredo spoke as Goodnight walked his faltering pony forward. ‘I didn’t think you could keep up with the man.’
‘Neither did he. Why don’t you both slip to the ground, and Riley, you can hand those saddle-bags up to me.’
‘All right,’ Laredo said agreeably, swinging his leg over the horse’s neck and sliding to the ground, hands held high.
Laredo unslung the saddle-bags from his horse’s neck and handed them up to Goodnight. His bay horse shied slightly. It, too, was obviously fatigued. Goodnight had lost his hat along the trail and the breeze shifted his dark hair. There was a smile on his thin lips, but it was not a nice expression.
‘I’d like to thank you men for—’
The sharp crack of a Winchester rifle wiped out the rest of the sentence. Its following echo rolled across the valley. Jesse Goodnight lay sprawled on his back against the grass, only a few feet from where Jake Worthy had fallen. Neither man moved nor would move again. Billy’s eyes had gone wide, and he grabbed for his pistol.
As the man with the rifle emerged from the forest, Laredo clasped his hand around Billy’s wrist. ‘You won’t be needing that, Billy,’ he said in a soft voice.
‘But…’ Billy had to take Laredo’s word for it. His hand fell away from his pistol as the man approached them. Billy squinted into the sun, which was beaming through the pines. He had seen this man before, but where…?
The stranger was lanky. He wore a shabby green jacket and had a growth of salt-and-pepper whiskers across his hollow jowls. His blue eyes were piercing. His lips were curled in a smile of satisfaction.
‘Finally got him, did you?’ Laredo said.
‘I was afraid you were going to take him first,’ the man with the rifle said. ‘I didn’t want it that way.’
‘I know,’ Laredo answered.
‘You know who I am?’ the rifleman said with surprise.
‘I guessed it,’ Laredo nodded.
Billy was nervous, upset. ‘Well, I’m a bad guesser. Why doesn’t one of you tell me who this fellow is?’
‘Sorry,’ the man with the rifle said, lowering his weapon as he toed Goodnight’s body. ‘The name is Klotz. Zachary Klotz. Goodnight killed my brother, Adonis, in Quirt five years ago over a gambling debt. Shot him down in an alley. This one,’ he said, nodding at Worthy’s body, ‘was there watching.
‘Adonis was a gambler, but never a cheat. Jesse Goodnight should have been hanged, but he wasn’t. Five years in prison was all they gave him. I waited those five years out. When I heard he was back in Quirt I knew it was time for me to make it up for my brother.’
‘You followed the posse,’ Billy said, understanding, ‘riding the high ground.’
‘Yes. I apologize for shooting up your campfire that night. I was just frustrated, couldn’t get a clear shot at Goodnight. Now,’ he paused, ‘I got it.’ He asked Laredo, ‘Do you want me for anything?’
‘No.’
‘What about you?’ he asked Billy, and Billy shook his head silently. Klotz turned on his heel and slowly walked back to the forest, re-entering it silently.
‘The man nursed a long anger,’ Billy said, picking up the saddle-bags again, handing them to Laredo.
‘He did,’ Laredo agreed. ‘Good thing for us, as it turned out. All right, shall we throw these two over their ponies’ backs and get started toward Ellis?’
‘I suppose we’d better,’ Billy said. ‘Think we can make it by supper time?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Laredo said. ‘Nan will be around somewhere, waiting for you.’
‘Makes you think about Bonnie Sue Garret, doesn’t it?’ Billy commented as they got to their task, hoisting Jake Worthy’s body onto his gray’s back.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, she was playing both ends against the middle, figuring that whichever one won out she’d be richer for it.’
‘She was,’ Laredo said, knotting one of the ropes under the belly of Worthy’s gray horse to hold his ankles and wrists in place. ‘Bonnie Sue should have learned what most card players know. Doubling down on your bets doesn’t guarantee success.’
They reached Ellis just as the last glow of a spectacular sunset faded from the western skies. Billy had reattached his badge to his shirt, and their appearance with two men tied across their saddles drew onlookers all up and down the street. The sight of the law in Ellis returning with men captured or dead was a rare occurrence, since everyone knew Marshal Hicks preferred to do his law-enforcing from the comfort of his swivel chair.
‘We’re in time for supper after all,’ Laredo said, pleased at the prospect of a hot meal.
Billy looked uncertain. ‘I hope so, I don’t know what kind of paperwork and such this requires.’ He nodded his head toward the tethered horses they were leading.
‘Let Hicks worry about all of that. Nan will be waiting and watching.’
‘You think so?’ Billy’s face brightened and then went glum again.
‘Yes, I do, now get over these negative feelings. You’ve got a job, almost have a girl, you’ve got your work finished.’
‘I know, Laredo, but it’s happened all at once. Remember, Hicks told me that I was to start my regular duties as soon as this Worthy business was cleared up.’
‘He won’t mean tonight, Billy. I can tell him I need you to help me clean up one last matter.’
‘What matter?’
‘There is none. Unless you can count eating supper with me. Tomorrow is soon enough for you to start worrying about your new job.’
In his office Hicks looked both pleased and excited to see them. He frowned as he looked outside at the bodies of the two badmen, but brightened as he thought of it burnishing his reputation.
Laredo didn’t need to use his lie on Hicks. The marshal was as pleased as if he had done the rough work himself. He was strutting around in his office, rubbing his palms together. ‘Good job,’ he said to Billy. ‘Don’t worry about the rest of it. I’ll see that those two get planted.’
He practically shoved them out the door. Laredo thought the marshal wanted to be alone to take credit for the Worthy capture when the local citizens began arriving to ask questions. It didn’t matter to Laredo, and it suited Billy, who only took the time to ask Hicks, ‘I see you’ve lost your prisoner. Where’s Hoop Kingman?’
‘I talked to the judge and was informed that there’s no case against Kingman, and we shouldn’t have even brought him in. I expect Hoop’s back over at the saloon by now. Don’t worry about it, Billy. Everyone knows you did your best.’
Billy exchanged a look with Laredo and then without another word they went out to the hitch rail, untied their horses and led them up the street toward the hotel restaurant.
‘I guess that’s the way things are going to go with Hicks,’ Billy said. ‘He’ll take all the credit; I’ll get all the blame.’
‘It seems like it. Can you take it, Billy?’
‘So long as they pay me steady, Laredo, I can take anything.’
After they had eaten, with Billy hovered over by an anxious Nan Singleton, Laredo pushed back from the table and rose. ‘I’ve got things to see to,’ he said, but neither seemed to hear him. He left Billy to tell the doting girl all about his adventures, and went out into the cool of night. He carried the saddle-bags filled with stolen money to the freight office, gave it into their care and got a receipt from a narrow, balding man who tried to sound confidence-inspiring. Laredo listened awhile to a talk on their safety record and then nodded and went out to look for the telegraph office. The message he sent to Tucson was worded almost exactly as he had told Billy earlier: ‘Found Quirt bank robber. Funds recovered. Laredo.’
Considering he had finished the job before they had even contacted him about it, Laredo figured he was due for a good long vacation. As he walked along the cool street towa
rd the hotel, he found himself thinking of his wife, Dusty. What a treasure that patient, red-headed woman was.
There was no light in Billy’s hotel room when he passed it in the hallway. Laredo managed to get his boots off and unbuckle his gunbelt before his head hit the pillow and he fell into a restful sleep with the cool breeze wafting through the slightly open window of his room.
The end of a job was always the best part of it, sleep the best reward.
ELEVEN
‘You’ll never guess!’ Billy Dewitt said breathlessly after knocking on and swinging open Laredo’s door in the early hours of the morning. The sun had just crept over the horizon, spraying golden fans through the cottonwood trees outside his window. Laredo yawned, scratched his head and sat up in bed.
‘What?’ he asked the obviously excited kid.
‘Last night I took Nan home,’ he said, taking a seat on Laredo’s bed as Laredo rose to wash his face and comb his hair. Laredo watched Billy’s flushed face in the mirror. He had nothing to say. Billy went on, ‘I met her mother, Roxie. We all had a little talk.’
‘About?’ Laredo asked, drying his face. He reached for his gunbelt and slung it around his waist.
‘Well,’ Billy answered hesitantly, ‘it’s like this - they both think that I should set my mind on being the town marshal.’ In a rush of words, he continued, ‘They were saying that no one much likes the way Marshal Hicks goes about his job, or rather, doesn’t go about it. They told me that everyone in town knows he’s lazy, and that I was new blood, showing a lot of spunk.’
‘It’s nice to have people admire you,’ Laredo said, for something to say.
‘Yes.’ Billy’s excitement was not waning. ‘Well, Roxie said that everyone knows I had worked under Sheriff Will Fawcett and that it was me who braced Hoop Kingman in the saloon and not Hicks.’ Billy stopped for breath. He smiled shyly at Laredo as he was putting on his hat. ‘And Roxie says that it was me who brought in the Quirt bank robber and that no-good Jesse Goodnight. Everyone knows that, they were telling me, and they would be sure to speak up for me the next time the marshal’s position is open.
‘First, though, Roxie says I should spend some time as deputy under Hicks to get to know the people in town and how Hicks handles his paperwork and such so that I’ll be ready when the time comes.’
‘That’s sensible,’ Laredo said. It seemed that Roxie Singleton was a woman who watched out for her daughter’s prospects. All right, she sounded pushy, but maybe that was what Billy needed just now. It was no wonder the youngster was flying high. He had a job, a future and a woman to dream on. A week ago he had been sitting broke and without direction in a Quirt saloon.
Laredo made no comments, and it was doubtful that Billy expected any. Laredo was only a sounding board, someone he could share his happiness with.
‘Have you got time to get some breakfast, Billy?’
‘I don’t report to Hicks until eight o’clock, so yes, Laredo. Let’s eat.’
The morning sun was still low in their eyes when they walked out of the restaurant. It was a good enough meal of ham and eggs, biscuits and gravy, but Laredo hadn’t lingered over it as an eager Nan Singleton hovered over Billy as if he were the only person in the place. Laredo had never been fond of being the third party around a romantic couple. Billy was sent off as if he were a boy on his first day at school, with Nan waving goodbye from the restaurant door.
‘What are you going to do this morning, Laredo?’
‘See to my horse, make sure the package got off, see if I got a reply to my telegram. I might even drop by the doctor’s and see how Lester Burnett is doing. I figure I can pay his bill and get myself reimbursed later. Maybe we don’t even owe Burnett that, but he was with the posse, and he is a broke and wounded man.
‘Then I’ll pick up a few supplies and get started on my way south.’
‘Had enough of Ellis already?’
‘It’s not that so much. It’s just that I do have a place I’d rather be. It’s called home.’
‘I understand,’ Billy said. He paused as they stepped into the street across from the stable. ‘I’d like to thank you, Laredo. You taught me some things without me even knowing you were teaching.’
‘Whatever you mean, you’re welcome,’ Laredo said warmly. ‘You were a good trail partner.’
They were shaking hands when the long shadow cast by the low sun crossed over them. Laredo tensed instantly and stepped aside. Billy turned toward the bulky form of a drunken Hoop Kingman. He had a leer on his flushed face and a cold glint in his glazed eyes. His hands were wrapped menacingly around a twelve-gauge shotgun.
‘You didn’t really think you were done with me, did you, deputy?’
‘Why not?’ Billy tried, though he was visibly shaken. ‘What’s the point in carrying this on?’
‘The point is,’ Hoop Kingman said, stepping forward, his hands tightening on the shotgun, ‘you made a fool out of me in front of my friends … and there’s the other.’
‘The other? What other?’ Billy asked blankly.
‘There’s money on both your heads, you knew that.’
‘Jake Worthy is dead, Kingman, he can’t pay you now.’
‘Jake Worthy is dead but the money isn’t gone,’ Ringman said. His eyes narrowed. ‘Worthy had a certain fund tucked away. He couldn’t be seen handing out gold on the street, could he? He left money in good hands in case he decided that it was time for him to make a run for it. The money was to be paid to anyone who took out the remaining posse members - and that means the two of you.
‘So you see, deputy, there is still a point in this. You two are worth a hundred dollars in gold money to me. I know the man who’s holding the money; you don’t need his name, and it won’t matter in about five seconds.’
Farther along the street Billy could see, or imagined he could see, Nan Singleton leaning out of a doorway to watch them. Billy said shakily, ‘You can’t shoot down a lawman in broad daylight and expect to get away with it.’
‘Sure I can. I’ve got my horse saddled and the money’s ready for me. What do I have to fear? Marshal Hicks coming after me?’ Hoop Kingman’s lips formed a rubbery, disparaging smile. Kingman’s thumb drew back both hammers of the double-twelve and he shouldered the scattergun. Billy Dewitt glanced wildly at Laredo, who had not moved a finger, and then, almost in a panic, Billy went for his holstered Colt.
There would be time for only one shot before the shotgun’s loads cut them in half, Billy knew, and he determined to make that shot count. If his draw was not quick, it was barely good enough to do the job. As Hoop Kingman’s thick finger tightened on the shotgun triggers, Billy Dewitt’s hastily fired shot ripped through Hoop’s throat. His head jerked back; the muzzle of the shotgun lifted high and was touched off, erupting with flame, smoke and buckshot. A nearby awning lost a chunk of wood. A horse panicked and reared up at the hitch rail. From down the street a long, piercing cry rose from a woman’s throat and Nan Singleton came running as Hoop Kingman’s body leaked blood and lay unmoving in the street.
‘Well?’ Billy Dewitt finally demanded as they sat sipping coffee at the restaurant. There was still quite a stir around them, though most of the uproar the death of Hoop Kingman had caused had died down.
Laredo looked up at Billy with hooded eyes. ‘Well what?’
‘You know what I mean, Laredo,’ the blond kid said. ‘You didn’t draw on Hoop; you weren’t even ready to shoot. I saw you.’
Laredo shrugged slightly. ‘What’s the sense in both of us shooting him?’ he asked.
‘How could you know that I was going to be quick enough, that I even had the heart to make my try against a shotgun?’
‘I figured you did. It’s your town, Billy. You’re the one they pay to keep law and order. I take care of business when I have to. This was your time.’
‘You might have been killed!’ Billy said powerfully.
‘I didn’t think so. I trusted you. Now you’ve got to trust yourself, mak
e the whole town trust you.’
‘You’re not telling me you let me do it for the glory!’ Billy said, half-laughing.
‘No, I’m saying that there’s a time when a man shouldn’t need a teacher any longer, when he knows that it’s his time to shine.’
Laredo got to his feet and fished for a silver dollar in the pocket of his jeans. He nodded, flipped the coin onto the table and said, ‘It’s your time, Billy.’
Then Laredo turned and was gone, his shadow casting a brief memory against the wooden floor of the restaurant.
About the Author
Paul Lederer spent much of his childhood and young adult life in Texas. He worked for years in Asia and the Middle East for a military intelligence arm. Under his own name, he is best known for Tecumseh and the Indian Heritage Series, which focuses on American Indian life. He believes that the finest Westerns reflect ordinary people caught in unusual and dangerous circumstances, trying their best to act with honor.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Logan Winters
Cover design by Michel Vrana
ISBN: 978-1-4804-8816-8
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
345 Hudson Street
New York, NY 10014
www.openroadmedia.com
EBOOKS BY PAUL LEDERER
