by J. T. Edson
‘It’s that soft-shell law-wrangler, Yorck,’ Lily growled. ‘He’s the bastard who set me up for this. I was going home and he called to mc. Like a fool, I stood with my back to the alley by the end of the Bull. Next thing I knew, a flour sack was over my head and I couldn’t do a blasted thing.’
‘He looks like something’s put a burr in his britches,’ Jeffreys commented.
‘Or somebody,’ the blonde corrected.
‘Did you get them?’ Wymar asked, appearing from beyond the end of the building and striding to meet the lawyer.
‘No,’ Yorck replied. ‘Smith refused to give them to me.’
‘You weren’t followed here?’ the younger man demanded.
‘Do you think I’m a fool?’ the lawyer snorted and dismounted. ‘Hold your voice down, damn it.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Wymar said, in a softer tone.
‘Smith says he’ll kill the Jones brothers if we don’t turn Jeffreys and the saloon-woman loose.’
Although the speakers had moderated their tones, the words carried to Lily’s and Jeffreys’ ears. They looked at each other briefly and in a startled manner. Neither of them had expected Smith to yield to the soft-shells’ demands, but would never have expected him to take such a line of refusal.
Dropping their voices to a level which did not carry to the listeners, Yorck and Wymar adopted a conspiratorial air as they continued the conversation. Throwing glances at the front of the cabin, but not to where their prisoners watched them, they argued briefly. Studying the pair, Jeffreys decided that Yorck’s proposals did not meet with Wymar’s approval. Then the young soft-shell seemed to give way and accept. Pointing to the building, Wymar returned the way he had come and the lawyer followed leading his horse.
‘You’ve got to hand it to Wax Smith,’ Lily said quietly. ‘He says and does the damnedest things.’
‘Sure,’ Jeffreys agreed. ‘Only we’d best get sat down and not let them know we’ve been listening. They’ll be coming for us soon, unless I miss my guess.’
Turning their backs to the wall, Lily and Jeffreys shuffled down into a sitting position. They had hardly done so before the door opened and the two soft-shells entered. Taking a jack-knife from his pocket, Landers cut the bonds holding the prisoners’ ankles.
‘Get up,’ Wymar ordered.
‘You’ll have to help me,’ Lily replied.
‘Do it,’ Wymar told his companion, pulling a Smith & Wesson New Model .32 revolver from his jacket pocket. If they try anything, I’ll kill them.’
Putting away his knife, Landers helped the blonde to rise. When his turn came to be assisted, Jeffreys fought down his inclination to use his knee in the appropriate place on his helper. While he felt sure he could incapacitate Landers, Wymar held a revolver. Only a .32 caliber, maybe, but lethal enough at close range. And even if he succeeded in subduing the two young soft-shells, the sound of the disturbance would bring Yorck and Evan Jones to investigate.
No. The time for resistance had not yet come. So Jeffreys allowed himself to be shoved through the door after Lily.
They entered what had been the main living-room of the cabin. Now its only furnishings were three open bedrolls—on the centre of them lay Evan Jones’ Ballard rifle—at the left of the room and two more on the right. Jones stood with Yorck in the centre of the room and looked at the prisoners in a calculating manner.
Tour friend, the marshal, isn’t such a good friend after all,’ the lawyer announced, standing with his right hand hidden beneath the left side of his jacket. ‘He won’t trade your lives for Mr. Jones’ brothers.’
‘So I’m going to help him change his mind,’ Evan Jones went on.
‘You mean the Counselor hasn’t told you the truth?’ Jeffreys inquired.
‘What’d that be?’ Jones asked.
‘Waxahachie Smith’s going to shoot your brothers if we’re not set free,’ Jeffreys explained. ‘Look at Yorck’s face if you think I’m lying.’
Jones swung his gaze in the lawyer’s direction, seeing shock and anger that he interpreted as an admission that Jeffreys had told the truth. Realizing that he had confirmed the young farmer’s suspicions, Yorck tried to turn aside the storm of protests which he knew would be forthcoming.
‘Smith’s bluffing!’ the lawyer said, backing towards the door.
‘Believe me, Evan,’ Jeffreys injected. ‘Wax Smith doesn’t bluff unless he’s ready to back his play if he gets called. Unless we’re set free, your brothers—’
‘Shut up!’ Wymar screeched, leaping in front of the speaker and brandishing his revolver. ‘I’ll kill you if you say another word.’
Watching the soft-shell, Lily knew that he meant what he said. Deprived of the marijuana on which he had come to depend, Wymar was in a state of hysterical rage that might easily burst. For all that, the blonde did not hesitate to draw his attention from Wil’s brother.
‘And that’ll get Virgil and Morgan killed for sure, Evan,’ Lily warned. ‘Don’t forget that they were captured so you could escape.’
‘Quiet!’ Wymar howled, swinging the revolver from Jeffreys to Lily. ‘I’m going to—’
Whatever path young Jeffreys might have been following since his return to Widow’s Creek, he showed that he could play the man when the need arose. Stepping swiftly behind Wymar, he pivoted and lashed his right leg around. In college, he had taken an interest in various forms of self-defense and put his training to good use. The toe of his boot took the soft-shell in the kidney region with considerable force. With a croaking yell of agony, Wymar arched his back. Instead of carrying out his threat against Lily, he dropped his Smith & Wesson, stumbled by her and fell sobbing near the wall.
Landers let out a squawk of alarm and bent to grab for the revolver. Jumping at him, Jones crashed a fist against the back of his neck. Down went Landers, collapsing like a rabbit with its spinal column broken, to land on top of the weapon. Seeing that he could not gain possession of the Smith & Wesson, Jones turned to run to where his Ballard rifle lay on his bed-roll.
‘Look out!’ Lily yelled, springing so that she placed herself between Jeffreys and the lawyer.
Giving their attention to the soft-shells, Jeffreys and Jones had failed to keep Yorck under observation. The lawyer brought his right hand into view, holding a short-barreled Merwin & Hulbert Army Pocket revolver. Even as Lily gave her warning, he cocked, lined and fired it.
Not at Jeffreys, but making Jones his target. Struck between the shoulders with the .45 bullet, the young farmer blundered into the wall and slid downwards.
‘Get back!’ Yorck snarled as Jeffreys lunged by Lily. Reaching behind him, the lawyer drew open the door and backed through it. ‘This couldn’t have worked out better for me.’
‘How come?’ Jeffreys asked, playing for time as he skidded to a halt.
‘When they find you bunch dead, there’ll be no stopping the war that’ll blow up between the ranchers and farmers,’ Yorck explained.
‘Those two as well as Jones, Lily and me?’
‘All of you. If the Grange try to keep the peace, their own people will turn against them and to us.’
‘That’s not why you’ll kill us,’ Jeffreys challenged. ‘You’re doing it so there’ll be no witnesses.’
‘That’s true,’ the lawyer confessed. ‘I’ll go back with the tragic news that you’d been killed by Wymar, Jones and Landers in their drugged rage. Then Smith will shoot the other two and the Free Land Society will have its martyrs. By the time we’re through, the Grange will be a thing of the—’
Chopping off his words, Yorck tried to follow Jeffreys with the short barrel of his revolver. Waiting until the lawyer had got into his full flow of rhetoric, the young man flung himself away from Lily. Jeffreys heard the Merwin & Hulbert crack and the sound of its bullet whizzing by his head. Then he tried to reach the lawyer before the other could re-cock the revolver. Showing surprising speed, Yorck’ leapt back and slammed the door.
‘It’s no good,
Jeffreys!’ he yelled. ‘I can get you from the windows.’
The sound of running footsteps caused Yorck to swing around. Carrying his kukri, Poona Woodstole came from the trees and, with Zoltan Bilak at his side, made for the lawyer. Spluttering out curses, Yorck tried to swing around his revolver. Whipping back his right hand, Woodstole threw the kukri on the move. Hissing through the air, its heavy blade passed between Yorck’s ribs and sank into the vital organs beyond them.
Halfway to the door, Jeffreys saw it opening slowly. Yorck staggered back into the room. Falling face upwards, he lay with the fancy black hilt of the kukri rising from his chest. Having drawn his revolver, Woodstole hurdled the body. Also gripping a Colt, Bilak followed the Englishman. They arrived ready for trouble, but met none. Sprawled on his bed-roll, Jones was dead. Landers groaned his way back to consciousness. Whimpering in fright and pain, Wymar crouched on the floor and stared around him.
‘Are you all right, Lily?’ Woodstole inquired, holstering his Colt.
‘Sure,’ answered the pallid-faced girl.
‘How about you, Stan?’ the Englishman went on.
‘He didn’t hit me,’ Jeffreys replied. ‘But I’m near on scared to death.’
‘Don’t you believe that,’ Lily protested. ‘Wax Smith couldn’t’ve handled things any better. Say. How’d you boys come to be here just when we needed you?’
‘We got together, without telling anybody, as soon as we heard what had happened,’ Woodstole explained. ‘Gave some thought to where they might have taken you and came to take a look.’
‘Where’s Charlie?’ the blonde inquired.
‘He’s with Mr. Cushman—’ Woodstole began.
‘That high-up Grange feller?’ Lily gasped.
‘Yes,’ Bilak grinned, having leathered his revolver and stepped behind her to free her hands. ‘It turns out that they both served in Hood’s Brigade during the War and they’re getting on like a house on fire. They’re checking on another deserted farm right now.’
Searching the unprotesting soft-shells, Woodstole found the key for the handcuffs and released Jeffreys. The young man made use of them to secure Wymar to Landers. Waiting until Woodstole had retrieved the kukri, Jeffreys escorted the soft-shells from the building and made them sit with their backs to the wall. Lily and Bilak had already come out.
‘Hey, fellers,’ the blonde said. ‘These unsociable bastards didn’t know how to treat a lady. I’m hungry. Shall we see if they’ve anything to eat, or head for town and get a decent meal?’
‘I’m for going back to town,’ Woodstole stated.
‘From what we heard Yorck telling this feller,’ Jeffreys went on, indicating Wymar, ‘I’d say we should get back as fast as we can. If we don’t, the Joneses are going to wish we had.’
‘Took after this pair, Stan,’ Bilak suggested. ‘We’ll pick up our horses.’
‘If you need a gun—’ Woodstole offered.
‘Unless they left it in town, my own’s here some place,’ Jeffreys answered and glared at the soft-shells. ‘Where is it?’
‘In my bed-roll,’ Landers yelped. ‘This wasn’t my idea—’
‘I hope the judge agrees with you,’ Jeffreys sniffed and entered the cabin to return strapping on his gunbelt. He checked the revolver’s loads and continued, ‘I reckon I can handle things now.’
Going to where they had left their mounts before stalking up to the cabin, Woodstole and Bilak led them back. Then the two men helped saddle the horses used by Jones and the two soft-shells. Leaving the bodies inside the building, the party mounted. Jeffreys had released Wymar and Landers, but they gave no trouble and showed no sign of trying to escape. In fact, from what they had said to Jeffreys, they were willing to tell the whole story behind their actions if doing so would help reduce their sentences when they stood trial.
Before the party had covered half the distance to town, they saw Smith and Frith riding towards them at a fast trot. Jeffreys felt worried as he watched the pair approaching, wondering how they would take the news that he had once again fallen into a trap.
Greetings were exchanged and the marshal asked for explanations of the other party’s presence. Giving Jeffreys no time to reply, Lily launched into the story of her kidnapping and finished with a description of his behavior in the main room of the cabin. The account was very creditable to Jeffreys, but he was uneasy when Smith turned an impersonal gaze his way. Sucking in breath, Jeffreys told how he had been caught and watched for signs of condemnation on the two men’s faces.
‘I reckon you’d best team up with me for a spell, Stan,’ Frith remarked.
‘It’d be best,’ Smith agreed. ‘You’ve got things to learn, amigo, and Ottaway’s not the man to teach you.’
To Jeffreys, it seemed that a great weight had been lifted from him. Instead of condemning him and discarding him as useless, Smith and Frith would still allow him to stay on as a deputy. More than that, they were willing to give him instruction in his duties. Pleasant company though he had been, Ottaway had never offered to do so.
‘So you’re the bunch who’ve been trying to get Wax and me killed,’ Frith growled, moving his horse towards the soft-shells.
‘W—We didn’t mean Miss Shivers and Mr. Jeffreys any harm!’ Wymar whined. ‘It was Yorck’s idea to kidnap them as hostages and he said we should kill them.’
‘Oh sure!’ Frith snorted. ‘And it was Yorck’s hired the fellers who came hunting Wax and me?’
‘I don’t know what you mean!’ Wymar whimpered.
‘Since Miss Jeffreys hired us, we’ve both had men come to where we was and try to gun us down,’ Frith elaborated. ‘That ought to make it clear enough, even for college boys like you.’
‘I wasn’t involved in that!’ Wymar insisted. ‘Honest I wasn’t!’
‘How about you?’ Smith demanded, glaring at the second soft-shell.
‘Me!’ Landers yelped. ‘I—We—I didn’t even know that Miss Jeffreys had hired kill—you—you gentlemen until we got here. We were told that there’d only be the usual kind of local peace officers to deal with.’
‘That’s right, marshal!’ Wymar went on. ‘If we’d known about you being here, we wouldn’t’ve tried this trick.’
‘Reckon they’re telling the truth, Wax?’ Frith inquired.
‘They’re too scared to be lying,’ Smith decided, after looking at the pair for a few seconds. ‘Of course, they might not’ve known what Yorck was doing. He could’ve done the hiring.’
‘Except that he didn’t know we’d been taken on,’ Frith countered. ‘’Least, he acted like he didn’t when he first came to the office. Say, though. How did he get out to the farm?’
‘On the bay Lily’s riding,’ Jeffreys supplied.
‘He could’ve left the stage a couple of mile out of town, sneaked back and got it,’ Frith said quietly, turning his gaze to the bay. ‘Only it’s not been ridden hard today.’
‘Which it’d’ve had to have been to get him here in the time,’ Smith went on, also taking in the horse’s appearance. ‘And if he didn’t take the stage—Stan, what sort of things did Ottaway ask you?’
‘How do you mean?’ Jeffreys inquired.
‘What’d you talk about?’ Smith elaborated. ‘Did he ever want to know anything about the bank?’
‘He only asked if Wil was thinking of taking any special precautions to guard it when the money for the fair started piling up. I used to tell him he’d have to ask Wil about that.’
‘Did he know either Ric or me was coming?’
‘Sure, Wax. Wil told him as soon as she heard. He kept asking, so that he could get some more men if you couldn’t come.’
‘He never asked you about the jewelry Poona’s cousin was bringing?’
‘No, Ric,’ Jeffreys replied. ‘Hey, though! He used to hint that there might be some attractions that Wil hadn’t let on about. I knew that she wanted Sir Basil’s jewels kept a secret and thought she was having Tal try me out to see if I could keep i
t that way. So I used to say I didn’t know anything. You don’t think—?’
‘When one trail peters out, you have to look for another,’ Smith replied. ‘Ottaway knew we were coming and where to find us. With us out of the way, he could hire his own men. The bank’ll be busting at the seams with money comes the end of the fair. Only we’ve whittled his hired help down some. Does he have any friends around town, Stan? Fellers he sees regular, I mean.’
‘Only the undertaker,’ Jeffreys replied.
‘Who?’ Smith snapped.
‘A small, miserable-looking feller,’ Jeffreys explained. ‘He’s not been around town for more than two or three days. I don’t know if he is an undertaker, but he looks like one. I’ve seen Tal talking to him a couple of times after he’s sent me off to handle chores on my own.’
Chapter Seventeen – The Tall Man and the Short Man’s Plan
With a sense of quiet satisfaction, Talbot Ottaway rode towards the centre bridge. He sat a big, powerful horse and led a second equally as well-made and capable of long, fast travelling. So far, no alarm had been raised from the bank. That did not entirely surprise him. Wil Jeffreys and the Pinkerton guard were in no position to announce that the bank had been robbed.
In a way, though, it was a pity that Ottaway could not have treated Otis M. Capey better. After all, the little man had been the one behind the plan. The trouble was that Capey could not ride well enough for the fast flight which must be made if Ottaway hoped to avoid capture.
It had all began some time back, while Ottaway was taking pay in a railroad right-of-way war. Capey had arrived with a proposition. A successful Eastern criminal, he had been employed as a servant at the British Embassy in Washington, where he had been planning to steal a valuable collection of jewelry. He had been unable to make any progress until he had discovered that their owner had been asked to put them on display at a county fair to be held in Widow’s Creek.
Guessing that his opportunity would be greater in Wyoming, Capey had headed West. By some means or other, he had been put into contact with Ottaway. Between them, they had hatched a plot not only to gain possession of the jewels but to rob the bank of the money deposited during the fair.
