Blood on the Hills

by Matt Chisholm

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shafter said finally. His heavy face had grown heavier. His eyes were broodingly cautious. They didn’t leave Jody’s face, as if he were gauging each word he spoke now from the expression on the deputy’s face.

  “Jack King,” Jody said, his eyes on the floor. “We just took him, too. He’s in a cell alongside Bret and Shawn.”

  “Who?”

  “Jack King.”

  “I never heard the name.”

  “Used to run with Abe Morrison.”

  “I heard of him. But I don’t know a thing…”

  “Jack talked, Shafter.”

  “Jack don’t know…” Shafter stopped, looking like a man who would willingly have bitten his tongue off.

  “What don’t Jack know?” Jody said gently. “He don’t know your connection with Shawn? Was it Abe Morrison who took that shot at Shawn?”

  “You said it was Bret.”

  “You don’t know when to believe me any more’n I know when to believe you, Shafter.” He pointed at the floor. “Whose blood is that on the floor?”

  Shafter’s alarmed eyes darted to the floor.

  “I don’t see any blood,” he cried. “What is this? What’re you tryin’ to do to me, Storm?”

  “I’m finishing you, Shafter,” Jody said. “I’m comin’ after you till you break an’ run. Then I’m goin’ to have you.”

  “This is persecution,” Shafter shouted. “You don’t have no right. I’m a man of some standing in this town. The mayor’s a personal friend of mine. I shall complain to the judge. I’ll see you have that badge taken off you, Storm.”

  Jody smiled.

  “You do that,” he said pleasantly. “You take off me just what you want, Shafter. That ain’t goin’ to stop me. This is personal. I’m comin’ after you whether I’m a law officer or not. You tried to kill me an’ you tied in with a killer.”

  Shafter was on his feet.

  “Get off my back,” he said and there was a kind of desperation in his voice.

  “Jack King named you. Maybe you think he don’t know nothin’ about your arrangement with Shawn. But you’re wrong. Somebody talked to him. Now I want the man who took a shot at Shawn through the cell window. I reckon he’s in this buildin’.”

  “You can’t search here. I forbid it.”

  “You can forbid it all the way to hell. You can’t stop me,” Jody said. “The way I see it—you was a front-man for Shawn. He did the stealin’ an’ you bought legitimate business. I talked to Froud an’ talked to Charlie and Bret. I know what you own in this town. You bought it all with stolen money. It’s all in your name. But it’s Shawn’s in fact. The only guarantee he has he gets his share is your fear of his gun. First off when he was caught and put in jail you thought it was in your interest to have him free. He was your source of capital. But the second time he was caught, why you got to thinkin’. You was a mite slow, but suddenly you realized that you had enough of his kind of money. You had enough to grow legitimately. So you could make out without him. In fact, you’d be better off without him. So you aimed to have him killed and have the killin’ blamed on the anti-Shawn faction.”

  “This is a damned he,” Shafter cried.

  “We’ll know that when I’ve searched this place.”

  Shafter stood there looking as deadly as a cornered wolverine. Jody walked to the door and turned.

  “Just make a move against me, Shafter,” he said. “That’s what I’d like. No call for a trial then. Finish it quick and easy with no charge to the county except a few bullets.”

  “I shall fetch the judge,” Shafter said. “He’ll stop all this craziness.”

  Jody palmed his gun.

  “You ain’t fetchin’ nobody,” he said. “You’re stayin’ with me.”

  Shafter looked nervously at the gun.

  “Put that thing away,” he said. “I don’t like guns. There’s no call for it. I’ll show you over the whole place.”

  Jody grinned.

  “I like you bein’ scared of the gun,” he said. “It stays.”

  He gestured Shafter to go ahead of him and said: “Carry the lamp.”

  Shafter picked up the lamp and went out into the passageway. The lamp shook in his hand. There were three rooms off the passageway and they were all empty of men. They were used as store-rooms.

  “Now upstairs of this place,” Jody said. “Then we go through the diner and search the rooms above that.”

  “The two places connect upstairs,” Shafter said.

  “Good. Get goin’.”

  They walked out into the saloon.

  A hush fell over the place as they entered. Shafter walking under a deputy’s gun, his face furious with anger, caused a sensation. The stairs were to the left and they went up them. At the top, Jody looked back and saw all the faces turned up toward him. He knew that any man down there could pull a gun on him. His nerves were taut and he was ready to shoot at the slightest move. He wished Charlie was there with that shotgun of his. The big man behind the bar had his hands spread out on the top of it, as if to show he didn’t intend to make a wrong move.

  They moved down a wide corridor with doors on either side. This was the hotel part of the building.

  They started at the front of the place and found vacated rooms, sparsely furnished with little more than a bed, a chair and a bureau or cupboard in them.

  At the far end of the corridor, they turned right and Jody knew they were now going into Shafter’s own living quarters.

  Lou now appeared with a lamp in her hand. Her eyes were frightened when she saw the gun in Jody’s hand.

  “What happened?” she demanded.

  “I ain’t too sure,” Jody said. “But I’m findin’ out. Where’s the man your pa hid, Lou?”

  “Pa didn’t hide a man,” she said.

  “Which is your room?” he asked.

  She gestured to the door behind her.

  “Go ahead,” Jody told Shafter. To the girl, he said: “Go downstairs, Lou, an’ stay there.”

  She looked at him for a moment then said: “Where’s Bret?”

  “In jail.”

  “He didn’t do anything. I swear...”

  “I know he didn’t. It was your old man.”

  She gave her father a look of pure hatred and said: “If anything happens to Bret…”

  They went into her room. There was nobody there. When they came out, the girl was still there. Jody said: “Go on down, girl.” Reluctantly she turned away.

  They entered another room. This looked like Shafter’s own. There was no man there. Now there was only one left. As they approached it, Shafter stopped. His fear was complete now. He stopped in front of the door and stared at it, unable to go on.

  “What’s wrong?” Jody asked.

  Shafter turned his scared eyes on him.

  “I could make you rich for life,” he said. “What can you ever make as a peace-officer? Where did it ever get Froud? I could cut you in fifty-fifty now Shawn’s out of the way.”

  “That would be nice,” Jody said. “Now open that door.”

  “I can’t,” Shafter said.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t bring myself to do it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Can’t you see, you fool?” Shafter whispered urgently. “The man’s desperate. We go in there, he shoots. I’m in between you both.”

  “That’s too bad,” said Jody. “Go ahead. Open the door and walk to the far side of the room an’ you make sure you hold that lamp steady.”

  “No. I do that and I’m a dead man.”

  From the end of the corridor behind Jody a voice came—“Storm, there’s a gun pointed at your back.”

  Jody froze.

  A wave of utter hopelessness washed over him.

  “Turn and face me and drop the gun.”

  He started to turn and suddenly Shafter hurled the lamp at him. The glass globe struck his head and shattered. He heard a gun r
oar and he was flat on the floor. The window at the end of the corridor shattered. Shafter screamed.

  Jody drove himself to his feet, turned and charged the door. The gun went off again and something plucked at his coat tails. His shoulder hit the door with all his strength behind it and the lock broke. He hurtled into the room. He had the vague impression of a man sitting up on the bed, got a brief glimpse of the blood-stained rag around his shoulder as he swerved wildly toward him. He saw the gun come up and heard it come to full cock. Then he landed spread-eagled across the fellow and the gun roared deafeningly in his ear.

  The man fought to pull the gun back and jam the muzzle into his body, but Jody brought his own gun over and struck the man high on the head.

  Outside, he could hear a man running down the corridor.

  Shafter was yelling something about the place being burned down.

  The man under Jody kicked and struggled. Jody was heaved off him. A man ran into the room. Beside the bed was a small table with a lamp on it. Jody tried to reach this, but he saw the gun in his face. He stopped, crouched there beside the bed. The other man came up behind him and he heard the quick intake of breath before the blow was struck. He tried to duck under it, but it was no use. He felt as if his skull had been exploded and the night was full of blindingly bright lights. He felt his face hit the floor and then he knew no more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When he came to, he felt terrible.

  He wanted to retch, but he didn’t seem to have the strength.

  He was lying on a hard floor and there were bright lights that hurt his eyes when he tried to open them. His head ached and there was a foul taste in his mouth.

  There were men talking, but he couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t want to know anything. He just wanted to lie there and give up the fight.

  But the words forced their way through to him and brought recollection.

  “Was I you, Shafter,” a deep voice said, “I’d cut my losses and break down timber outa here.”

  “You’re not me, Abe,” came Shafter’s voice.

  “There’s been shootin’,” came the deep voice. “Everybody in town heard it. They seen the deputy with his gun on you. You can’t wriggle outa this one.”

  “I’ve got too good a thing goin’ here,” Shafter said. “I have it made. A man can’t give all this up. Don’t you realize, everything I have is tied up. I get out now I leave behind everything I worked for.”

  “What Shawn worked for, you mean.”

  “It don’t matter a goddam what I mean. I have it and there’s profit in it if you stand by me.”

  “All right. Make me a proposition.”

  “The chances are this deputy is the only man with a case against me,” Shafter said. “Charlie’s a dim-wit and Froud’s out of action. This boy’s playing it on his lonesome. We swear he left here alive. You take him out into the desert and you kill him.”

  Full consciousness came back to Jody in a rush.

  Another voice said: “You’re forgettin’ the girl, Mr. Shafter.”

  “Girl, what girl?”

  “Your daughter.”

  “What about her?”

  “She was up here. She saw this feller searchin’ the place. She heard the shootin’. What do you reckon she did?”

  There was silence. Finally, Shafter said: “My God, I forgot. There’s Bret. That little bitch would sell me up the river for that fool cowhand. Meakin, go find her and bring her here.”

  The man left the room.

  Somebody started pacing up and down the room, agitated. Jody reckoned it was Shafter. Then he started to retch involuntarily and they knew he was conscious. Somebody grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head around. The light was directly and agonizingly in his eyes. He could just make out the faces of Shafter and the man on the bed.

  “You did this,” Shafter cried. “You did all this to me. Froud wouldn’t never have gotten around to this.” Then he hit Jody in the face and his head hit the floor. His senses swam again and he fought to retain them.

  If he ever managed to get out of this, he promised himself, he’d give the law-enforcement business a miss in future. There definitely was no profit in it. All a man got was stove-in.

  They waited and Shafter paced and then Meakin returned.

  “Well?” Shafter demanded.

  “She’s gone.”

  Shafter panicked for a moment and then he calmed. The man added: T asked a feller on the street an’ he said he seen her runnin’ up the street toward the courthouse.”

  “That’s it,” said the deep voice. “You cut your losses.”

  “No, sir,” said Shafter. “I run and it points the finger. I can bluff this out. I’m a respected man here. This deputy’s a stranger. Who’s going to take his word against mine?”

  “You think you can do it?”

  “It’s worth the risk. If I stay I’m a rich man. If I run I don’t have more than a few thousand dollars. I don’t have the stomach to start all over. Morrison and you, Meakin, take this boy out in the desert and kill him. Quietly. Without a trace.”

  “If you say so,” Morrison said. “But it’ll cost you.”

  “Of course it’ll cost me,” Shafter said. “I’m a businessman. I expect to pay for what I want.”

  “All right. Meakin, let’s get this feller out back and throw him across a horse. We’ll be back inside the hour. You’d best get some of your influential contacts workin’, Shafter.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Shafter. “Leave it to me. I have a good story forming in my head already. All they have against me is the wild talk of a young girl who wants to marry against her father’s wishes.”

  “A good line,” said Morrison.

  A boot-toe hit Jody in the ribs and a voice said: “On your feet.”

  Jody tried, but he fell on his face.

  “Aw, Jesus,” said Meakin, “does this mean we have to carry him.”

  “For God’s sake,” Shafter said impatiently, “get him out of here any way you can and fast.”

  They took him by wrists and ankles and carried him out of the room. Going down the stairs was pure murder. His back struck every tread of the stairs as they went. Outside, with the stars still overhead, they dropped him on the ground. He could hear horses moving around.

  A horse was brought up close to him and Meakin said: “I ain’t strainin’ a gut to git him on no horse. He’s heavier’n a sack of rocks.” A boot came into Jody’s ribs again.

  “All right, all right,” he said. “No call to kick me to death.”

  He raised himself on hands and knees and the world went around and around. He thought he was going to retch again.

  “Get a move on,” Morrison told him.

  He caught hold of the stirrup-iron above him and hauled himself up to lean sickly against the horse. The animal shifted under his weight and he would have fallen if the two men hadn’t caught hold of him.

  He managed to get a foot into the stirrup-iron, rested a moment and then dragged himself into the saddle.

  Meakin laughed—“No call to kill this one. I reckon he’ll be stiff by the time we git there.”

  Jody leaned on the saddlehorn and heaved. He heard saddle-leather creak as the other two men stepped into the saddle. One of them slapped the horse he was on and they moved out.

  As far as he could make out, they walked their horses north through timber and then rode down to the creek and crossed it.

  I’m just sitting here, he thought. I have to do something.

  But all he felt like doing was dying. A night bird cried shrilly from the timber. Far out on the plain a coyote sang and he might have been singing a requiem for Jody Storm.

  Now they were clear of town, Morrison lifted his horse to a trot. The hammering pace brought a responding hammer in Jody’s head and it felt as if it would fall from his shoulders.

  They were riding through brush and rocks. Here and there a giant cactus reared its slender head to the stars. It was, Jo
dy thought pointlessly, a beautiful night.

  They must have been trotting for some five minutes when Meakin, who brought up the rear, said: “You hear anythin’, Abe?”

  Morrison turned his head.

  “I didn’t hear nothin’.”

  “Hold up a minute.”

  They halted. Jody used his ears. He thought, far off, he heard a horse. Then the sound died.

  “You hear that?” Meakin said.

  “Not a thing.”

  “I could of sworn ...”

  They went on.

  They came to an arroyo and Morrison led the way into it. He halted and swung down from the saddle. He took something from behind the saddle and Jody saw it was a spade. The man came to Jody, caught him by the arm and heaved him out of the saddle so he stretched his length in the soft sand of the arroyo bed.

  “Dig,” he said.

  Jody got to his hands and knees.

  “You mean I have to dig my own grave?” he asked. “Ain’t that rubbin’ it in a bit?”

  “Dig,” said Morrison. Meakin dismounted.

  “I got nothin’ to lose by tellin’ you to go to Hell,” Jody said.

  Morrison grinned.

  “We could beat you some more,” he said. “That’s a fact.”

  Jody thought about it, then he picked up the spade and he started to dig. The sand on top was light and dry. Below, it was slightly moist. It came away neatly in spadefuls.

  “Hurry it up,” Meakin said. “We don’t have all night.”

  “I ain’t in no hurry,” Jody said.

  For a few minutes there was silence except for the sound of the spade digging out the sand. Then Meakin said: “Listen.”

  Jody stopped digging.

  “That was a horse,” Meakin said.

  “You’re spooked,” Morrison accused.

  “Sure I’m spooked,” Meakin said, “but that don’t turn me deaf.”

  Jody thought: There’s somebody followed us. He can’t locate us. He’s either for me or against me. What do I have to lose?

  He drove the spade into the sand.

  Morrison said: “Git up yonder an’ take a look.”

  Meakin started away.