The Tylers 2

by Neil Hunter

  ‘Three against one unarmed man? You figure they could manage?’ Jacob was letting himself become restless and roused, and when he got that way he had a tendency to use words recklessly.

  ‘You got a loose mouth, pilgrim,’ Jackson said; he was a tall man, wide at the shoulders. His arms were long, his hands large and thick-fingered. ‘I figure maybe I’ll have to tighten it up some.’

  ‘Ease off,’ Will said. ‘You might get your chance, but not now. I want you to round up Link and Thatcher. Have them join us over at the Union. We got some business to discuss.’

  ‘Who you going to frame for this one, Retford?’ Jacob asked softly as Will’s men left the jail.

  Will glanced at him coldly for a moment. ‘I’ll figure something,’ he said. ‘I’ve got plenty of time. You haven’t.’

  With Will gone Jacob took stock of his situation. His position was pretty dicey. He was walking a thin line — on one side was Will and his gun hawks, on the other was the township of Bannock; to both he was a walking target, and Jacob found he was taking a dislike to both halves of the coin; whichever way it fell he was in trouble.

  Jacob wandered round his small cell. It didn’t take him long to realise that the only way out of the cell was by the door; Bannock’s jail had been built to last and to keep its prisoners in. He stood for a time gazing at the door of the cell; like the rest of the place it was solidly constructed — it would take nothing more or less than the key to open that door, Jacob decided, and that left him right where he’d started from.

  Jacob was still dwelling on the problem when the jail door opened. He looked up and saw a dark-haired young woman carrying a tray. Jacob found himself watching her closely, his attention drawn to her as she approached his cell; she was darkly attractive, her strong body moving lithely beneath the faded, taut-fitting dress and he judged her to be around twenty-three or four.

  ‘Marshal said you’d likely be hungry,’ she said, sliding the tray under the cell door.

  As Jacob picked up the tray he found that the girl was watching him intently, her eyes never leaving his face. For some reason she seemed unable to look away from him. She seemed on the point of speaking again, but no words came.

  ‘I thank you for the food, ma’am,’ Jacob said.

  She didn’t seem to have heard him at first, but suddenly she shifted her gaze.

  ‘You’re Jacob Tyler?’ Jacob nodded in answer, and the girl said, ‘Marshal said to stay away from you. He must figure you to be a desperate man.’

  ‘That’s his story, ma’am, but I could tell it different.’

  ‘You don’t look as black as that poster paints you.’

  ‘No, ma’am,’ Jacob said.

  ‘Sounds like you’re saying you didn’t do those things.’

  ‘I’m a stranger in this part of the country, so it’s just my word.’

  ‘Against Will Ford’s?’ the girl said. ‘That’s a greasy card you’ve been dealt, mister.’

  Before either of them could speak again the jail door opened and the man named Jackson came in. He looked surprised when he saw the girl, and Jacob got the impression that Jackson had been expecting the jail to be deserted save for Jacob. For a moment Jackson’s eyes roved freely over the girl’s body, and then he strode across the floor and stood before her.

  ‘Takin’ you a time to deliver a tray of food, ain’t it?’

  ‘I figured to wait until he’d finished so I could take back the tray,’ the girl said, in no way intimidated by Jackson’s menace.

  ‘So get the hell out of here! The tray can wait. Now move your ass!’

  ‘Jackson, you need to learn manners when you talk to a lady,’ Jacob said, his anger rising quickly.

  A harsh laugh bubbled up out of Jackson’s throat. ‘Her a lady? That takes the shit! This bitch ain’t no lady . . . ‘

  The girl spun round on Jackson, so fast that he was taken off guard as her right hand swept up and caught him across the side of the face, the force of the slap knocking him against the bars of the cell.

  Jacob hadn’t been expecting the girl’s move, but as Jackson slammed up against the bars he acted instantly, reaching through the bars to grab Jackson. One arm went around the deputy’s throat, while Jacob’s other hand reached for the gun holstered on the man’s hip. Slipping the gun free Jacob jammed the muzzle into Jackson’s side, dogging back the hammer in the same moment.

  ‘Deputy,’ Jacob said, ‘you so much as breath wrong I’m liable to open a big hole in you. And don’t think I won’t. You got me set up as a killer, so I might as well earn the price of the reward on that poster.’

  Jackson was a hard man, tough, but he wasn’t stupid; he knew what a .44 caliber bullet would do to him if it was fired at this range. So he stayed very still and did exactly what Jacob told him to do.

  ‘I figure you came back here expecting me to be on my own,’ Jacob said. ‘Time for me to make my break? With you close behind carrying a loaded gun?’

  ‘Mister, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You crazy or something?’

  Jacob gave the gun a thrust, the hard muzzle digging into Jackson’s side. ‘No, I ain’t crazy. Just itching to stay alive, and I wouldn’t manage that for long if it was left up to you.’

  Jackson began to protest then thought better of it and fell silent.

  ‘Ma’am,’ Jacob said, ‘I’d be obliged if you’d leave now. I don’t want to get you involved in what might happen. The minute I step out on to the street I’m going to be a target, and I wouldn’t like to bring you into trouble like that.’

  The girl faced Jacob squarely, her eyes fixed on him. Jacob thought he saw a gleam of tears in her eyes. He thought she was going to object.

  ‘All right. But be careful. Will Ford is a hard man, not one I’d trust, and the men who work for him are just as bad.’ She turned to go, then suddenly said: ‘Take care, Jacob Tyler. I want to see you again, and I want you to be alive!’

  She went then, closing the door of the jail behind her, leaving Jacob wondering about her, and despite his situation finding it hard to erase her from his mind; he found too that he wanted to see her again; in a fleeting moment of thought he realised that he didn’t even know her name.

  Jacob pulled himself back to the matter in hand. He still had to get out of his cell. He wasn’t going to get very far while he was still behind bars.

  ‘Deputy, I’m going to ask you a question. And you’d better give me the right answer first time. The keys to this cell. They around here?’ To emphasise his point Jacob poked Jackson’s side again, hard, and drew a gasp from the man.

  ‘In the desk,’ Jackson said.

  ‘I’m going to let you go,’ Jacob told him. ‘And you’re going to walk over to that desk, bring the keys over here and open this cell. This gun’s going to be on you all the way. You want to chance trying for the door, you go ahead, but I’ll tell you now I’m a fair shot.’

  Jackson stepped away from the cell when Jacob released him. He half-turned his eyes moving from Jacob’s face to the muzzle of the gun in Jacob’s hand; watching him Jacob could almost read his thoughts: Jackson was considering the possibility of making a break.

  ‘You wouldn’t make it,’ Jacob told him gently, and Jackson glared at him.

  Jacob watched the deputy cross the jail, go round the desk and reach into a drawer. When Jackson straightened up again he was holding a bunch of keys in his fist.

  ‘Move it, mister, I don’t figure to be in here when the rest of your bunch walks in.’

  Jackson crossed over to the cell and selected a key. Without a word he unlocked the cell. Jacob motioned him inside, then stepped out of the cell, closing and locking the door.

  ‘You won’t get beyond the end of town,’ Jackson said. ‘Mister, you’re a marked man!’

  ‘Be surprised what I can manage,’ Jacob said. He’d found his gun belt hanging on a hook behind the desk. Strapping it on he checked the gun’s ammunition.

  He opened the jail door and
glanced up and down the street. Bannock seemed to be going about its business normally. Jacob didn’t let the fact lull him into any sense of security; he was getting the feeling that Jackson’s visit to the jail had been more than just a casual affair. Jacob’s mind was working along the lines that somewhere out there Will and his bunch were waiting for him to show his face. Jacob had already noticed that the jail had no back door, or windows. There was only one way in and one way out — through the door leading out on to Bannock’s main street.

  Jacob stayed where he was. No sense stepping out into a trap until he’d worked out whether he could do it without getting hurt; the more he thought about it, his conviction grew that Will had set up an ambush. Once Jacob showed his face outside he could be shot down as an escaped prisoner. It would get Jacob out of Will’s hair, leaving him free to carry on his corrupt office in the knowledge that he didn’t need to keep looking over his shoulder any longer.

  The hell of it was that Jacob had just walked into it. He’d come to Bannock expecting Will to be long gone, but it hadn’t been so, and Will had been more than ready for him.

  Jacob quit thinking about what had happened — his problem was with the present and the fix he was in right now. Sitting down doing nothing wasn’t going to get him out of it. Sooner or later Will was going to get curious as to why Jacob hadn’t come out of the jail, and also why Jackson hadn’t shown his face. When that did happen Jacob was going to have to move; his chances of getting away would be a lot slimmer too. So the sooner he moved the better; being a man of action rather than deep thought, Jacob reached this conclusion quickly and acted upon it straightaway.

  He threw the jail open and went out on to the boardwalk in a rush, keeping low as he hugged the jail wall. Jacob’s thoughts ran ahead of him, his eyes taking in the lay of the land around him. Close by was the end of the jail wall, leaving a narrow alley between it and the building next to it; here was a chance for Jacob to get off the street; once in the alley he’d have a short time under cover, and it might just give him vital seconds of time that he needed.

  He was approaching the alley when the shooting started; more than one gun, coming from a distance, but they were all aimed in his direction. Jacob heard more than one bullet howl off the wall of the jail above his head. Another tore a chunk out of the boardwalk at his feet. And then, just as he cleared the edge of the boardwalk, his body turning towards the alley, Jacob felt the slamming impact of a bullet as it ripped into his left shoulder; the impact knocked Jacob to the ground. He ignored the blossoming pain, the numbness that enveloped his shoulder, and shoved to his feet. He heard shouting behind him and knew they were coming after him. On weak legs Jacob ran for the shadows of the alley. He cursed the luck that had let that bullet find him, but at least he was still able to move.

  He ran into the alley, stumbling as he started in, and the movement saved his life as a gun roared from somewhere up the alley. Jacob heard the whine of the bullet as it passed over his head. Without conscious effort or thought, Jacob brought up his Colt, aiming quickly at the figure ahead of him; the Colt fired and Jacob saw the figure fall away from him. When he reached the crumpled figure Jacob found himself looking at a strange face, but the man wore a deputy’s badge and the gun he still held in his hand had a faint wisp of powder smoke issuing from the muzzle; Jacob noticed that his bullet had caught the man in his upper-thigh, there was a lot of blood and mess, but the wound wasn’t fatal.

  Reaching the end of the alley Jacob turned right and found himself running along the rear-lots of Bannock. To where though? His horse was still in the livery, and Jacob suddenly realised that he was heading in that direction, though he doubted if he’d make it; his whole left side down to the waist felt numb and he could feel blood coursing hotly down his body; before he could run far he was going to have to do something about his shoulder. But what?

  Behind him he could hear the noise of his pursuers. Jacob knew well enough that he couldn’t outrun them for very long. He paused behind a weather-beaten outhouse, turning to face his enemies and saw them moving slowly along the rear of Bannock’s main street; they were all armed, yet they all moved with caution; they’d probably seen the one that Jacob had shot and they were taking care that it didn’t happen to any of them.

  With only seconds at his disposal Jacob looked around desperately for some way of escape, yet he saw nothing that held promise. To one side of him lay the alleys leading back on to the street, in front of him were Will’s deputies, behind him lay little else, with always the chance of someone coming at him from one of the alleys. To Jacob’s way of thinking the only way out seemed the thick brush that lay on his right; here, where Bannock finished, and the country took over, perhaps lay his way out. Beyond the thick, tangled brush lay the rugged, forested land of the Teton country; Jacob knew that it was hard country for a man on foot, and more so to a hurt and hunted man, but he was in no position to be choosey. His mind made up, Jacob turned aside from the shelter of the outhouse and plunged into the heavy brush. Behind him he heard a shout; he’d been spotted. He ignored the shouts, the sudden outburst of firing that sent bullets ripping through the undergrowth around him. Jacob pushed on, running when he could, putting up with the lashing branches that cut his face.

  More than once he fell and it would have been so easy to stay down, to let the tiredness overpower him, but Jacob didn’t give in easy, and it wasn’t in him to quit while there was still a chance.

  He lost track of time. The wooded country seemed to stretch away in every direction. So Jacob just kept moving, keeping on his feet out of pure instinct; he was fighting to survive, and the thought alone kept him upright.

  And finally he stopped. Exhausted, his body trembling from the effort he’d put it to. Jacob leaned against a fallen tree, his eyes searching the terrain. He saw nothing, heard nothing. But Jacob knew that somewhere Will’s bunch would be looking for him. He didn’t know how far he’d come. A good distance, but still not far enough when those chasing him had horses.

  So where to now? Jacob wasn’t sure. He glanced up into the sky and saw that it was darkening. Soon it would be full dark. He’d have a better chance then. There was only one way he could go. That was back to Bannock. Jacob needed food and treatment for his arm. He didn’t fool himself. The time would come when his body would give in to its needs, no matter how much Jacob wanted to carry on. And if that happened he would have little resistance if Will’s boys caught up with him. No, he told himself, there’s only one thing to do — go back to Bannock and try to find that girl. He cursed himself for not having found out her name. It was going to make it harder to find her. All he had to rely on was the fact that she worked in or ran a restaurant; it seemed logical after the conversation he’d had with her and the things said while she’d been in the jail.

  Jacob found himself a place where he could hide until it was full dark. He slid down into a hollow, a shadowed place overgrown with brush and grass. It was a relief to be able to relax, even if it was an alert kind of relaxation. Despite his wanting to remain aware of his surroundings, Jacob found himself slipping into a half-asleep state; he knew it was brought on mainly through his loss of blood; strangely now his shoulder didn’t pain him as much; the initial pain had faded to an angry ache that nagged persistently. Jacob hardly knew it when he finally slipped into a restless sleep, his tired body winning over his trying to stay awake.

  Chapter Seventeen

  With one thought hammering away inside his skull, Jacob came awake suddenly. He ignored the pain in his shoulder, the weakness that made his body leaden, because the thought left him in a cold sweat.

  The girl!

  She’d been in the jail when Jackson had come into the place, and from what had been said in the short time before she left, it didn’t take too smart a man to figure out that she had a pretty good idea what was going on. It was a fair guess that Jackson would have told Will what had happened in the jail, and Will would realise that there was a witness who might speak
up and say the right things to the right people; Will would have been figuring that with Jacob out of the way he was pretty well in the clear, but now there would be the girl. Jacob had no illusions over the fact that if Will considered the girl a threat he would have her dealt with.

  Jacob struggled to his feet. He stood for a moment, his senses reeling. He felt sick, his strength drained away. Despite this Jacob set off towards Bannock. He had to reach the girl and warn her she was in danger. He knew that already he could be too late; Will might have made his move, and though the thought hurt, Jacob was forced to admit that the girl might be dead. He hoped not. Still in his mind was that first meeting; he recalled the looks the girl had given him and the need in himself to see her again, and in recalling that Jacob realised he wanted to see that girl badly — and as she’d said to him, alive.

  It was close to fully dark now, and though the night would give him cover it also meant that Jacob had to pick his away with care. He moved slowly, but steadily, covering ground at a good pace, and Jacob judged it to be around eight o’clock when he first saw the lights of Bannock ahead of him.

  He moved in as close to town as he could, giving himself ample time to reach the first building. From there he checked the surrounding area for any sign of Will’s men; they’d be around somewhere he was certain. They might have reasoned that Jacob could return to Bannock, and if they had he was going to have to walk easy.

  On his journey back to Bannock, Jacob had noticed a sudden rise of wind. Now it was driving in steadily, sweeping down out of the high northern peaks, and almost as he took note of the wind he felt the first drops of rain. Swiftly now the drops increased. Within a couple of minutes Jacob was soaked to the skin as the dark skies opened and the rain, driven by the wind, lashed down on to the wide land.

  Jacob watched the street empty as men took to the boardwalks and then to the bright warmth of the saloon and the gambling halls. He waited until Bannock’s main street became empty, the only sound the drum of the rain on the roof-tops. And still he waited, watching, patient, because he knew that if he wasn’t he could end up dead this night.