by Alan David
‘Not in here!’ Willard said nervously. ‘Someone might hear you. Let’s go to my room at the hotel. Whether you’re known or not, you shouldn’t show up like this. Someone might recognise you, or at least remember you. That scar around your throat is a dead give-away’
‘Yeah, but that’s a chance I have to take. I’m leaving now. You follow me quick. I wanta get this business settled so I can eat and rest up. But there’s still a lot to be done and I can’t stop now I’ve started, and I got to hit S & W while they’re shocked by what’s happened.’
He turned and walked steadily to the door, not giving Willard time to say more. Willard gazed after his retreating figure for a moment, then followed slowly, and there was reluctance in his manner. He was badly shocked by the reports that had come through about the raid at the construction camp. So many men had been ruthlessly killed! All the stock and equipment had been destroyed. But he was in this too deeply now to be able to extricate himself, and he sensed that he was trapped. If he came out of it with his life intact he would be lucky, and if he managed to get his share of the stolen money from Yaro then it would be nothing short of a miracle.
Chapter Eleven
Chet Manning was concerned about Aunt Polly’s request that he should look out for Willard, and was thoughtful as he left the house after supper and went into the town to check on some of his contacts. He wanted to visit the Big Chance saloon later to see Glory, but duty came first and he only peered over the batwings to look for the man he wanted to see. Ike Joiner was like an old woman in that he listened to and passed on gossip, but, Manning had discovered, the man gathered a lot of information, and on several occasions he had been extremely helpful with snippets of news.
Joiner was not in the big saloon, so Manning walked along the street, his thoughts still upon Willard. He knew Willard was a disappointment to Asa, but, as he had told Aunt Polly, not every man was cut out for the tough life of a Railroader. Willard held down his job as a clerk and did it well. He was quiet and did not attract trouble. Asa could not ask for more in a son.
There was a small bar farther along the street, and it was in a booth there that Manning found Ike Joiner. He took a bottle of whisky and a couple of glasses with him to the booth and sat down, silently pouring the old greybeard a stiff drink. There was only a glass of root beer before Joiner, and he looked up with a grin of welcome, revealing the blackened stumps of several bad teeth through the straggly whiskers that practically concealed his mouth.
‘Howdy, Chet.’ He reached out a greedy hand for the whisky glass. ‘Nice to see you. Where you been lately?’
‘Around. You got anything for me? I been meaning to look you up but I’ve been too busy.’ Manning waited until the oldster had almost emptied the glass, then refilled it.
‘Lot of trouble coming to S & W,’ Joiner commented.
Manning chuckled harshly. ‘Tell me something I don’t know. You know about the shooting I had around here?’
‘I heard, and you got a lot more due. There’s a couple of gunmen in town name of Creed and Penner. I seen ‘em in the big saloon. Say, you know that Monte Hudson’s banned me from going into his place?’
‘I didn’t know. What for would he wanta do that? You ain’t no troublemaker.’
‘I mind the time I was.’ Joiner chuckled. ‘But mebbe Hudson figures I see too much what’s going on.’
‘Hell, Monte is clean. I’d stake my life on him. He ain’t got nothing to worry about. Don’t wander, Ike. What about those two men? What did you call them?’
‘Creed and Penner. They’re a couple of gunnies. Been around town two days asking a lot of questions about the Railroad, and about you in particular.’
‘Mebbe they’re looking for jobs. Word of trouble soon gets around.’
‘They’re killers, Chet. I seen too many of their kind not to recognise them.’
‘They’ve been around a couple of days?’ Manning had learned by experience that he could never discount anything this old man had to say. ‘I had trouble with three gunnies I figured came from the opposition. I don’t reckon these two can be a part of the same bunch. If they were they would have joined in the fight when it started.’
‘Think what you like, but I reckon you’ll be looking at them through gunsmoke before you’re finished. Say, did you hear about the school marm getting attacked?’
‘Yeah. But it’s no concern of mine.’
‘Hank Chilvers dropped by earlier and asked me if I’d seen you in town last night.’
‘I already seen Hank. He’s not interested in me. Just wanted to check what I was doing at the time. He’s gonna check everyone in the hope of finding that maniac. You ain’t got any ideas on that, have you, Ike?’
‘Nope. I don’t wanta get mixed up in that kinda thing. I can pass on news to you about Railroad business. I knew your Pa well. Him and me was real pards in the old days.’
‘Okay, so tell me about the two gunnies you don’t like. Creed and Penner. Where are they hanging out?’
‘Big Chance saloon. They got plenty of dough, and they don’t work hard for a living. They’re gunslingers all right. Watch your step around them, Chet.’
‘I will. Thanks for the tip. Can you describe them?’
‘They’re always together, for one thing. One is tall and thin, wears his gun left-handed, and his shirt is a pale green silk one. The kind of thing you’d expect a dude cowhand to wear. He’s got brown pants with a white stripe in them, and his boots are brown, with little white stars let into the straps. His pard is shorter and stocky, wears two guns, and looks like he eats nails for breakfast. He wears a big old ten-gallon Stetson with the brim pinned up at the front with a thorn. You clap eyes on them two and you’re gonna know them.’
‘Hell, you almost painted a picture of them,’ Manning said admiringly. ‘You don’t miss a thing, Ike. But maybe I oughta take a look at them.’ He pushed the bottle of whisky across the table. ‘Keep your ears open, Ike. I need all the news I can get these days.’ He reached into a pocket and produced two dollars, which he flipped into the old man’s ready palm. ‘Be seeing you.’
‘Thanks. Sure is a pleasure doing business with you, son. Say, did you know Bill Buskin has sold out his spread and gone east? I was out on his range last week. There’s a hard bunch moved in there. The new rancher’s name is Ryker.’
‘What do you mean, hard bunch?’ Manning paused in the act of rising.
‘Two of his riders stopped me when I was crossing his range. They warned me off. Told me to stop poking my nose in where it ain’t wanted or mebbe I’d get it shot off.’
‘Uhuh. Then you’d better keep away from that part of the range. Have you picked up anything about a big bunch of men moving in anywhere? I figure there’ll be thirty of them at least’
‘Nope. But I’ll keep an ear to the ground. You could have a word with Herb Willis at the store. He’d let you know who was buying a lot of supplies. A bunch like that would have to be fed.’
‘Yeah. You’re right. I never thought of that.’ Manning dipped into his pocket and produced two more dollars. ‘Thanks, Ike. I’ll be seeing you. Don’t finish that bottle too quickly, huh?’
He departed and walked back along the street, thinking over the items of information he had gleaned. They did not seem to add up to much, apart from Creed and Penner. He recalled the details of their appearance and paused at the batwings of the Big Chance, peering at the occupants inside.
Almost immediately he had the two men spotted. They were standing at a corner of the bar talking to Glory Harpe, and Manning frowned as he watched them. Glory was dressed in a glittering creation that left her smooth shoulders bare, and he felt a tugging in the pit of his stomach when he recalled their few hours together in Miller’s Crossing. But she was talking intimately to the two men Ike Joiner had described, and, for someone who had just arrived in town, she seemed on very friendly terms with them.
Again he wondered why Monte Hudson had steered him into the girl’s
arms, and looked around the room for the saloonman. He saw Hudson sitting in at a poker game at the far end, and Hank Chilvers was also at the table with several of the more prominent businessmen of the town. Frowning, Manning entered and walked towards the poker game, apparently not looking around the saloon and keeping his face averted from Glory and the two gunmen. But he was watching the woman and saw her nudge the taller of the two men then indicate his presence. Both men stiffened, and the shorter one dropped a hand to the butt of his holstered gun. Manning did not break his stride until he reached the poker table, and paused at Hudson’s shoulder. The saloonman sensed his presence and looked up quickly, then grinned.
‘Howdy, Chet. Help yourself to a drink at the bar. You got anything special to do tonight?’
‘I don’t think so, and I sure could do with a drink.’ Manning turned to the bar, tightening his lips when he saw that the two gunnies had left Glory’s side and were farther along the bar. His face was expressionless as he walked towards the woman, and then he grinned, for she was smiling at him, her chin up slightly, giving him the come-on. ‘Hi,’ he greeted her. ‘I didn’t see you when I came in. So you’re gonna work the saloon, huh?’
She motioned for the tender to bring them drinks, and her face showed a wistful expression as she looked up at him.
‘I told you, Chet. A gal has to earn her living. But I’m singing here and that’s all. I’ve made it clear to Monte that I’m not in any other business. I’ll always be available when you want to see me.’
‘That’s good.’ He made no effort to look at the two gunmen, but could sense that they were staring at him. ‘Where are we sleeping tonight?’
‘I’ve got the room at the top of the stairs. But you’d better not use the stairs. My window overlooks the balcony fronting the street, and there are some steps outside which lead up to the balcony. I’ll expect you around midnight, okay?’
‘Okay.’ He took the drink which was placed before him and gulped it. ‘Which side of the stairs is your room? I don’t wanta tap on Monte’s window.’
‘The one on the right.’ She laughed lightly, her voice like quicksilver, and Manning could feel icy shivers trickling down his spine.
There was something wrong here, he thought instinctively, and, although his face was expressionless as he gazed at her, he was quickly calculating the situation, recalling everything she had said to him from the very first moment of their meeting. She had been planted on him! The hunch was as clear as if she had told him so. But who would do such a thing, and why? Ben Yaro? He didn’t think Yaro would go to those lengths to nail him. But those two hardcases were standing by primed for trouble, and he did not doubt that he was their target.
He finished his drink, deciding that he would hold his hand and let them betray themselves. It was risky, but he needed a breakthrough somewhere and this could be it. But there was disappointment inside him as he considered Glory. She was a woman in ten thousand, and he had figured she was straight. But now the idea that she was trying to set him up had taken root in his mind and he could not get rid of it.
‘I’ll see you later,’ he said, and left the saloon, pausing outside to get the reactions of Creed and Penner. But the two men made no effort to follow him, and he stood in the shadows for a long time, just watching them. They drank steadily but did not relax their alertness, and he agreed with Ike Joiner’s assessment of them. They were hard-bitten killers. But if they were after him then why didn’t they tackle him? If Yaro was paying them they would have joined in the last attempt on his life. But Yaro was not the type to make the same mistake twice so he could expect something tricky in future. He sighed, for he could not make up his mind whether these two were part of an elaborate gun trap or just a couple of itinerant gun-hands.
He went to the hotel, where he had a room, and, although he was not tired, stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts have full rein. He went over the whole situation, and could not help wondering if he was calling the right shots. What would Yaro do next? He shook his head, for Asa had said it was impossible to predict Yaro’s next move without knowing something of the man himself. He let his thoughts drag on, trying to pinpoint any weaknesses in their own strategy and questioning the steps they had already taken. Then he drifted into slumber despite the fact that he was looking forward to visiting Glory in her room at the saloon, and did not awaken until a thunderous knocking jerked him back to reality and he opened his eyes to discover that the sun was up. He had slept through the entire night.
Springing from the bed, he drew his sixgun and hurried to the door, calling guardedly for identity.
‘It’s Asa,’ came the harsh reply. ‘For God’s sake, Chet, open the door.’
Manning unbolted the door and jerked it open, frowning as he looked into Asa’s pale face. The older man’s eyes were smouldering with shock.
‘What in hell’s happened?’ Manning demanded.
‘Happened!’ Asa repeated, clutching at the door as if he needed support. ‘I just got a message from end of track. They’ve been hit by Yaro, that’s what’s happened, and the whole camp is a disaster area.’
‘What?’ Manning recoiled, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘You got to be joking!’
‘I wish to God I was!’ Asa launched himself into a description of what had happened in the dawn raid, and Manning closed his eyes in despair as he listened to the mounting toll that had been exacted. Then he started towards the door, but Asa grasped his arm. ‘Where in hell do you think you’re going?’ he demanded.
‘Out to end of track!’
‘Are you hell! If you show your face out there you’ll be lynched, most likely. You’re gonna stick around here until I’ve been out to take a look at the damage. I gave you your chance yesterday, Chet, and you said you’d handle this your way. You were gonna call the right shots. Well you made a big mistake and a lot of good men have paid for it with their lives. I don’t know if you’ve had your mind on your job or been sidetracked by some woman, but, until I find out, you stay away from the Railroad.’
‘Are you suspending me?’ Manning demanded.
‘No. I’m putting you in charge here while I’m away, and you better make sure that nothing goes wrong around town. I’m leaving in a few minutes on a special train for end of track, and I’m taking the doctor and all the volunteers I can get. You handle this end of the business. There’ll be a lot of messages coming through, and I’ll contact you soon as I’ve had the chance to make a survey of the damage. You better be on your toes from now on, Chet, or you’ll wish you had died out there at dawn with the rest of the Railmen.’
Asa turned on his heel and stomped along the passage. Manning stood frozen in his doorway, his mind reeling under the shocking news. Yaro had done exactly the opposite to what he had predicted. All his carefully plotted ideas on how to combat the menace were down in the dust, and there was a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought of those dead men out at end of track. Many of them had been friends, and it was his responsibility to protect them. But he had let them down by underestimating Yaro and they had paid the ultimate price. He groaned and clenched his hands impotently.
Grabbing his hat, he left the hotel without washing or cleaning his gun and hurried along the street to Asa’s house. Netta opened the door to him, and when she explained that Asa was at the depot he turned and ran across to the station, reaching the tracks in time to see the relief train disappearing into the distance in the direction of the devastated construction camp. His wide shoulders slumped and he shook his head disconsolately. The town seemed empty and quiet, and he went to the telegraph office to elicit more information, but there was little the operator could tell him beyond what Asa had already said, except that some fifty men had been killed and about sixty wounded in the bitter fight that had raged through the camp. More than one third of the work force had been put out of action and the rest were badly demoralised.
Manning tried to fight against the shock mounting in his mind. He he
ld himself strictly responsible for what had happened. He had been so certain that Yaro would not have the audacity or power to attack the main camp, but that was what had happened, and now disaster faced him. He was not concerned about his job or his future with the Railroad, but the dead men would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He walked back across the street to Asa’s house, and Aunt Polly was waiting in the doorway for him. She gazed at his pale, taut-lipped face and took hold of his arm, leading him inside.
‘I’ll bet you ain’t had a bite to eat this morning, son,’ she said. ‘Come on into the kitchen. What’s done is done and nothing can change that. You figured the first move wrong, but that ain’t the end of it. You can’t give up now. Come and eat and try to get your thoughts straight. I know you, Chet. You’ll be able to get Yaro and put him where he belongs’
‘No matter what I do, I can’t put life back into those men who were killed this morning,’ he said bitterly. ‘And while it was happening I lay asleep on my bed in the hotel. A fine troubleshooter I turned out to be!’
‘This is not the time to sit and mope over what’s happened,’ Aunt Polly remonstrated. She made him sit at the big table, then placed a slender hand upon his massive shoulder. ‘Many’s the time Asa has faced this very situation, so don’t think you’re the first one to make a mistake. But you must have something in the back of your mind. Now is the time to hit back, while Yaro is crowing about his success. Asa has gone to end of track and he’ll do what’s necessary there so you can forget about it. What you’ve got to do is find a way to strike back, and before Asa returns. It’s the only way to balance the books.’
‘What can I do?’ Manning asked miserably. ‘I’m in a box canyon, Aunt Polly.’
