by Abe Dancer
The lack of success made his surly companions cast glances at each other, but curiously he didn’t detect that they were irritated by the possibility that they had wasted time in boarding the train.
Jim put that unresolved problem from his mind and headed into the third and last car. This time he kept the saddle held low so that the passengers wouldn’t see it until he got close to them. There were a dozen people, each sitting alone, of whom half were either too old or women.
Jim made his slow way down the aisle and swung the saddle up on to the seat beside the first likely candidate. This man glanced at the saddle, then shuffled away from it. Jim judged that he hadn’t been surprised to see it, so he moved on to the next one, who also reacted in the same way.
With a growing sense of unease Jim moved on through the remaining passengers, but each of them failed to show any interest in the saddle until he had just one person left to try.
He judged this man to be the same age as Barney Dale. He glanced at Hyde and Pike, who were already on alert with their hands close to their holsters, having decided this man was a strong candidate to be their target.
Jim kept his gaze on the passenger, making the man flinch, then look at him. At that moment Jim raised the saddle but the man gave it barely a glance before turning to resume looking out the window.
Jim blew out his cheeks in exasperation. Years of manhunting meant he prided himself on being able to read people and their expressions, but in his view this man and everyone else on the train had reacted without a hint of recognition.
He carried on through the door, then leaned on the rail looking down at the receding tracks and feeling foolish for having put his faith into what now seemed an overoptimistic plan. Hyde and Pike joined him.
‘Your plan didn’t work,’ Hyde said in a matter-of-fact manner. ‘Perhaps your subtle methods aren’t so successful, after all. First, they led us to the wrong man. Now, they can’t find the right man.’
Jim accepted this truth with a curt nod.
‘I did put a lot of faith into that plan. But I’m sure there are other ways to work out which passenger is Barney.’ He gestured back into the car. ‘So we’ll search the train again and this time more thoroughly. You two head on in there and go through the passengers one at a time.’
‘And you?’
Jim hefted the saddle then shoved it into Hyde’s chest, forcing him to grab hold of it.
‘I’ll cover your rear.’
With a glance at each other and a murmured grumble Hyde and Pike set off into the car. While Pike did the questioning, Hyde walked to the door at the opposite end of the car in case Pike alerted their quarry and he ran.
Jim watched through the window in the door, appraising Pike’s unsubtle method, which involved barking a demand to know who each passenger was and not moving on until he had enough proof to satisfy him.
‘You’re on this train somewhere,’ Jim said to himself. ‘I’m sure of it.’
Slowly his gaze rose to consider the roof. A smile hovered on his lips.
He waited until Pike had moved on to his third passenger. Then he reached for the ladder leading to the roof and climbed up a few rungs until he was just below the rim. He bobbed up to look on to the roof.
Sure enough, his hunch proved to be right. On the roof a man was lying on his front facing away from him and looking down at the door at the opposite end of the car. His cocked head suggested he was listening.
Moving stealthily, Jim rolled himself on to the roof then stood in a stooped posture with his arms held wide for balance. Then he made his way towards the man. The rattling of the train masked the sounds of his progress, letting him get to within a few paces of the man before he moved. Then it was only to slip backwards because the door below was opening.
Jim hurried on, his gun coming to hand.
‘Barney Dale?’ he demanded, jabbing the gun into the back of the man’s neck.
‘What the…?’ The man flinched and twitched as if Jim had already shot him, forcing Jim to kneel on the small of his back to subdue him.
‘Answer the question or you won’t get to live for long enough to return to White Ridge.’
‘Would it help any if I said I’m not this … this Barney Yale?’
Jim snorted a laugh. ‘That answer tells me everything I need to know.’
He raised his knee then tugged Barney’s jacket to deposit him on his back. Barney considered Jim’s firm glare then gave an apologetic shrug.
‘I suppose I got as far as I could.’ Barney patted his bulging pockets and well-padded jacket, presumably feeling the money he’d secreted about his person. ‘Perhaps I should have invested in a gun, though.’
‘It wouldn’t have done you no good, bearing in mind the kind of men who’re after you.’
‘That’s what I figured.’ He considered Jim, recognition flashing in his eyes, although Jim couldn’t remember seeing him before. ‘I knew Nixon would send his hired guns after me, but I didn’t think he could buy Jim McGuire.’
‘He didn’t. I’m ensuring justice is done for Sherman Donner so that….’ Jim trailed off, deciding he didn’t need to explain himself.
From below he heard Hyde and Pike talking, hearing enough of their conversation to gather they’d heard him and Barney talking up on the roof. Quick orders barked out, followed by the door slamming shut.
Jim waited for one of them to appear on the roof but a minute passed without this happening, so he surmised they were being cautious for once.
‘How will killing me get that justice?’ Barney asked.
‘I won’t kill you if you don’t give me no trouble. I’ll ensure you get to stand before a court of law.’
Barney’s eyes opened wide. ‘A court of law! Because of the money that went missing?’
‘For that, and for Sherman Donner’s murder.’
‘That had nothing to do with me….’ Barney slapped his forehead. ‘But I should have known. All right. Get it over with and kill me or let those other two kill me. It’ll stop me suffering.’
Pike’s face appeared over the edge of the roof before jerking down. A few seconds later Hyde appeared. He also ducked down afterwards.
‘Come up,’ Jim shouted. ‘I’ve got him.’
‘Just do it quickly,’ Barney said with a gulp, closing his eyes.
‘Listen to me,’ Jim snapped. ‘I won’t kill you, and if you didn’t kill Sherman you’ve got nothing to fear from a court.’
Barney opened his eyes and transfixed Jim with what Jim took to be an honest gaze. When he spoke his tone was deep and serious.
‘I have everything to fear because not only did I not kill Sherman Donner, I know who did kill him.’
Jim winced, the numerous anomalies that had occurred since Sherman’s death falling into place instantly.
‘Nixon?’ he asked.
‘Yup.’
‘Can you prove it?’
‘Nope. But I saw what happened. It’s my word against his.’
‘That’s the word of the respected mayor against the word of a man who reckons he can talk his way out of any situation, is it? How do I know that’s not what you’re trying to do now?’
‘You don’t.’ Barney looked at Hyde, who was rolling onto the roof closely followed by Pike. ‘But I’ll be dead in a few seconds. Then just before those two complete Nixon’s orders and kill you, you’ll have all the proof you need that Nixon doesn’t want me brought to justice. He wants me silenced.’
Jim glanced at the hired guns. Both men were now standing on the roof, their right hands moving purposefully but still discreetly towards their holsters.
Jim had to admit that Barney’s comments made sense. The hired guns hadn’t tried to take the man he’d found alive. And they’d made no effort to find Barney on their own, preferring to stay with him and use his manhunting skills….
Jim tightened his fists then nodded.
‘I reckon you’re right,’ he muttered, then pushed Barney to the roof of the t
rain while stepping forward and reaching for his gun.
Together the two approaching men drew their weapons, but Jim was faster, if not accurate. He fired twice, the first shot winging over Pike’s shoulder and the second tearing splinters from the roof.
Both men returned fire but with the train rocking so much their shots also clattered feet wide of Jim and Barney. Despite everyone’s inaccuracy in self-preservation, Pike and Hyde followed Barney’s lead in dropping to the roof to present small profiles.
Jim took advantage of their caution by grabbing Barney’s shoulder and dragging him away from them. Getting his meaning, Barney got to his feet and, hunched over, the two men backed away down the train with Barney slipping in behind Jim.
At the other end of the roof the two hired guns swung themselves round to lay head on to him with their guns thrust out straight ahead, using the solid roof to keep their hands steady. They took steady aim.
Jim twitched his gun a mite higher, meaning to return fire, but he was finding it hard to keep his balance and any shot he made was likely to be wild.
‘Hurry up and shoot so we can climb down,’ Barney murmured behind him.
From the corner of his eye Jim saw that the ladder down to the car was three paces away, but he also saw the earth blurring by below. He judged that the ground was relatively soft and coated with scrub.
Twin shots from the hired guns whistled past his ears and that was enough for Jim. He grabbed Barney around the shoulders.
‘Forget that,’ he shouted. ‘Jump!’
CHAPTER 8
Sheriff Price considered the statements he’d spread over his desk.
He’d taken testimonies from everyone who had seen anything of interest near the mayor’s office yesterday. As this was the first time for eight years he’d tried to work through an investigation on his own, he’d been surprised by how much he’d enjoyed the challenge. He was even whistling to himself now that he was close to deciding upon the sequence of events.
It all appeared to have happened as Mayor Nixon had said it had, but there were anomalies.
One man had seen Nixon leave his office, but he had been sure that that was later in the day. When Price had traced the man’s movements he had confirmed he must have been seen after Barney Dale had left town. Another man had heard a commotion in the mayor’s office but, again, after Barney had left town.
Then there was Barney Dale himself. Whenever Price considered him he was sure of one thing: Barney wasn’t a murderer.
Before Mayor Nixon had come to town and Price had been Sheriff Martin Overton’s deputy, he’d had instincts that could spot a killer. That residue of the man he’d once been said that Barney couldn’t have killed Sherman Donner.
If caught stealing, Barney would have tried to talk Sherman into believing he was putting the money somewhere safe, or some such tall tale, but he wouldn’t have killed him. Price had spent a week looking after him and he always got to know the man on the other side of the bars.
That thought made Price consider Billy Jameson, his only remaining prisoner. He’d convinced himself that Billy was a killer, but two weeks of looking after the young man had told him a different tale. Now he thought him to be just a morose and troubled kid who had yet to find a purpose to his life.
So maybe he wasn’t such a good judge of character as he’d thought.
He stood and went over to Billy’s cell. As usual Billy was sitting on his cot with his legs pulled up to his chin, staring into space.
‘Billy?’ he said.
Several second passed before Billy looked up.
‘I don’t want nothing,’ he murmured.
‘I wasn’t offering. Deputy Carter will be taking over shortly and I wanted to ask you something.’
The mention of Carter made Billy shiver. Carter had been Mayor Nixon’s choice for a deputy, a role he’d adopted with enthusiasm after being one of Nixon’s hired guns for several years. Carter had ambition and that meant Price trusted him less than he trusted the rest of Nixon’s men.
‘Go on,’ Billy said.
‘Did you do it?’ Price asked.
This question made Billy show signs of animation for the first time since his arrest. He hurled himself off his cot and in three long paces came up to the bars, making Price back away a pace.
‘Why are you asking me that?’ he demanded.
Price shrugged, finding that despite the outburst he didn’t feel threatened by this young man.
‘Because while you’re awaiting trial, I still have to consider other possibilities,’ he said, having decided this answer would sound better than that he was wondering how good a judge of character he was. ‘So I want to hear what happened again to get my thoughts straight.’
Billy considered him, then sighed and gave a slow nod.
‘My story hasn’t changed. I was angry because Orson Brown wasn’t going to pay me.’ Billy’s eyes glazed as he recalled the events. ‘He paced back and forth shouting at me. Then there was a loud bang and he stumbled.’
‘The gunshot?’
‘I realized it was that afterwards, but at the time I thought he’d knocked something over. I wasn’t paying attention. I’d been getting told off a lot.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Then I saw the blood and I went to him, but I couldn’t do anything. Then my … Jim McGuire came in and then you. You saw the rest.’
‘Were you holding a gun?’
‘No. Jim taught me how to use one, but I wasn’t carrying a gun and neither was Orson.’
Price cast his mind back to those events. His own recollection, which he’d detailed in his statement, was that Billy had been brandishing a gun. Nobody else had seen that gun, admittedly, but neither had anyone but Jim been sure he hadn’t held a gun.
‘And can you prove your claim that someone came in the back door and shot him?’
‘That’s not my claim. Jim said he saw the open door. I never noticed that.’
Price sighed. Even if he didn’t believe Billy about the gun, he’d heard enough prisoners tell lies to know that the more desperate their position, the more desperate their lies. Yet Billy had never tried to spin a tale about any other killer, something that implied he was telling the truth, no matter how unlikely that was.
‘And so you ran, hoping to catch the killer?’
‘Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,’ Billy said, shrugging. ‘I can’t remember. I was scared and shocked. I just ran.’
‘Until Deputy Carter and Hector Pike arrested you and despite your innocence you put up one hell of a fight to avoid capture.’
‘So Deputy Carter claimed,’ Billy snapped, then gulped, his gaze darting up to look over Price’s shoulder.
The door creaked, then footfalls sounded, making Price turn to see that Deputy Carter had arrived to look after the law office.
‘I claimed what?’ Carter asked.
Sheriff Price gulped when he realized that Carter might have overheard what he’d been discussing with Billy.
‘That you’d feed him a good meal this evening,’ he said, covering up their conversation before Billy could reply.
‘I never said I’d do that,’ Carter muttered.
‘More lies,’ Price said. He turned to Billy and conveyed with raised eyebrows that he should say nothing and that they would speak later about their interrupted conversation.
‘That’s all that one knows how to do.’ Carter paced over to Price’s desk and glared down at the statements. ‘What’s all this trash?’
‘It’s the evidence that’ll prove what Barney Dale did,’ Price said, moving over to join Carter.
‘And what did he do?’
‘Nixon’s story is what happened.’
‘Of course it was,’ Carter said, picking up the nearest sheet. ‘Why did you bother?’
‘For the trial, so put that down.’ Price reached for the paper. ‘They’re in the right order to prove what happened.’
‘A trial?’ With a mocking gleam in his eye
Carter held the paper away from Price’s outstretched hand until he stopped trying to take it. ‘Are you being serious?’
‘I don’t know what you mean. Jim McGuire will bring Barney back and—’
‘You’re a fool, Price, an utter fool.’ Carter threw the paper to the desk, his eyes wide and his teeth bared in an exaggerated sneer. ‘Why did an idiot like you think he could ever be a lawman?’
Price heard the contempt in the question, but he answered honestly.
‘Ten years ago I became Sheriff Martin Overton’s deputy, and I was a good one at that. We didn’t even have a mayor back in those days. Then Jake Nixon came along and Overton got shot….’ Price trailed off and sighed. Carter didn’t want to hear the story of how he’d become Mayor Nixon’s puppet. ‘I’ll leave. I’ve got a town to patrol.’
‘You do that, Sheriff.’ Carter snorted with contempt. ‘Go and keep the peace and make sure the townsfolk of White Ridge feel safe and sound in their beds.’
Through the flickering flames of the campfire Jim considered his new companion Barney Dale, wondering, as he had done during the few moments they’d rested today, whether he could trust him.
Throughout their escape from the train and their hurried passage from the tracks to a point of safety, Barney had given him no further information to persuade him to believe his story.
In his former life Jim had tracked down many men like Barney and knew that, in Barney’s position, he would say anything to save his life, but in this case he was inclined to believe Barney. Pike and Hyde had been determined to kill Barney on sight and they did have instructions from Mayor Nixon that they weren’t prepared to voice.
Even if his concerns were misplaced, the fact that Nixon had claimed Barney was guilty probably meant that more had taken place in his office than he’d admitted. At the very least, Jim had concluded, he had to ensure Barney reached White Ridge safely.
‘It appears we’ve got away from Nixon’s hired guns,’ he said, deciding to tackle that issue now. ‘But I know one thing for sure: they won’t give up. So we have to discuss how we’re going to get back to White Ridge.’
