Bullets in the Sun

by Robert J. Horton

  “All right,” Farlin snapped out, “we might as well get down to cases in this thing.”

  “That’s right,” said Lawson eagerly. “What’d you find out in town? I could have gone in, understand, there’s nothing I’ve got to be afraid of there. But I thought it would be better if I wasn’t seen there. You know how it is. What do you know?”

  “Plenty,” replied Farlin shortly. “I’ve got the lay-down pat. I don’t know as I would have to go in again at all if it wasn’t for a bit of personal business that has nothing to do with this deal, or you. By the way, I deposited that twenty thousand in my name, of course.”

  Lawson chuckled. “Of course, of course. But it would have given that old fogy of a John Duggan something to think about if you had used my name. I heard they’d made some changes in the bank. Is that so?”

  “I know all about the changes and everything else,” said the gambler. “I know everything. And I’m not spilling a thing until the time comes. There’s one thing we’ve got to understand, Ed. I’m not in this business through any love for you or respect for your game. I’m in it for the money. Don’t get me wrong as to why I’m throwing in with you. When this thing is over, I hope I never see you again. That’s how much I think of you personally.”

  “An’ I don’t care a whoop what you think of me!” Lawson ejaculated. “Although I always have had a likin’ for you, Dan,” he added hastily. “But you haven’t made the money you should. You say we’ve got to get down to cases. All right. This is my last play around here, an’ . . . unless you’re a fool . . . it’s yours. An’ the beauty of it is that there’s goin’ to be just the two of us in the big money.”

  “That’s why I’m going to watch you like a hawk, Ed,” said Farlin grimly. “You’d shoot me in the back in the wink of an eye if you thought you could get away with all of it. Well, I’m going to see that you don’t. This is the first job of the kind I’ve tackled. I’m engineering it, and I’m going to boss it. You can tend to the men and . . .”

  “An’ take the big risk!” sneered Lawson.

  “While we’ve been talking, I’ve decided to take the big risk with you,” Farlin announced calmly. “It’s the only way I can play safe. Now, do we understand each other?”

  Ed Lawson’s angry look changed to one of admiration. “If I ever had any thought of double-crossin’ you, Dan . . . which I hadn’t . . . what you just said would drive it out of my head. What’s more, I see your brains are goin’ to count more than my guns in puttin’ this raid across. I don’t mean to leave the boys who have run with me flat, remember, but . . . an’ I’m lookin’ to you to keep this to yourself . . . when this job is wrapped up an’ put away, I’m quittin’ the gang an’ the country. You can use your own judgment.”

  Farlin had listened carefully and now he smiled to himself. For all his seemingly straight talk, Lawson’s words lacked absolute sincerity. It just wasn’t in the outlaw’s make-up to play square all the way.

  “Well said,” was Farlin’s comment. “We won’t talk any more tonight, Ed. We’ll talk further in Sunrise, three . . . maybe four or five days from now. And it wouldn’t be best for us to ride on in together,” he added pointedly.

  “I’m steerin’ northwest to check up on the boys,” said Lawson, scowling. “I’ll come into town to see you . . . alone.”

  “So long, then,” said Farlin.

  They separated, with Lawson riding off north and Farlin proceeding on his way to Sunrise, where events already were shaping themselves in an astounding way he could not suspect.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jim Bond did not oversleep. At an hour after sunset he had eaten and was in the saddle, having noted that Farlin’s and Lester’s horses still were in the livery. Having contributed generously to the liveryman’s supply of ready cash to keep his own movements a secret, he rode fast and was unaware, of course, that he was observed by Ed Lawson when he swung west of the butte and struck out in a straight line for Sunrise. As yet Bond did not know all he wanted to know, but he thought he did know the reason for Dan Farlin’s visit to Rocky Point, and he was satisfied that Sheriff Mills didn’t want him for anything specific enough to arrest him, and was not sure as to his identity. He classed Lester as a fool who was afraid of losing Farlin for a drawing card to lure gamesters to his resort.

  Bond rode hard, polishing off the miles at a swinging lope that his horse could easily maintain to Sunrise, with speed in reserve when needed. Bond had no intention of reaching town after either Farlin or Lester had arrived there, and he had no particular interest in anything that might take place in Rocky Point in the meantime. Dan Farlin, he knew, could take care of himself, and it was only with Farlin that he was concerned, with the gambler and his daughter Gladys.

  By this time Jim Bond had made up his mind that his interest in Farlin’s beautiful daughter was not a passing fancy. His was not an idle infatuation. He wanted to see more of her, to talk with her a lot, to hold her in his arms, yes—to own her. This was what he told himself with a thrill as he raced across the plain under the drifting moon and the swarming stars.

  Bond had a definite plan that he had decided to put into operation as soon as he arrived in Sunrise. His movements might depend to some extent upon what had taken place there in his absence, provided Lawson had stayed there. He did not trust Lawson, for he knew the outlaw’s breed. And, first of all, he wished to make sure that Gladys Farlin was safe. Later he might have something important to tell her. The very thought of being in her confidence gave him a thrill. It would serve to cement their—their friendship. Maybe it . . .

  Jim Bond dreamed on under the stars and it is doubtful if ever a horseman covered the distance between Rocky Point and Sunrise in better time than that made by him this night, without straining his mount. First and last, Bond knew horses, knew his own especially, and was careful to ask of the animal only that which could reasonably be expected by a horseman of experience and consideration.

  The pale light of dawn suffused the east when he rode into town. It did not take Bond long to learn that Lawson was not in town. Nor did it take him long to learn that Gladys Farlin was all right, although she had not sung the night before in the Red Arrow. He learned, too, that Porky Snyder was reported to be doing well and was in a room in the hotel. He was careful to whom he addressed his inquiries and he was treated with respect. It amused him to find out that his defiance of Red Cole had given him a reputation and that he was looked upon as a gun expert who it would be well to avoid.

  Much of this he gleaned from the sleepy hotel clerk, and it was through him that he arranged to gain access to Porky Snyder’s room, regardless of the doctor’s instructions that the little gunman was not to be disturbed. It was broad daylight when he slipped into Porky’s room.

  The window shade was drawn and the light in the lamp was burning. Bond threw up the shade, extinguished the light, and turned to find Porky’s eyes open, wide and staring. He looked pale and shrunken in the white bed. There were bottles of medicine on the dresser. Bond opened the window as high as it would go.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, pulling a chair beside the bed.

  “Good as I could expect,” growled Porky in a faint voice.

  Bond looked at him keenly. “You’re coming along all right,” he said confidently. “I got that from headquarters, but I can see it with my own eyes. Do you feel as if you could talk a minute?”

  “What’s it about?” said the sick man with a scowl.

  “I’m sorry this thing had to happen, Porky,” said Bond in an earnest, friendly tone. “You’re old and wise enough to know that it was the only thing I could do. I could have bored you for keeps.” He paused and frowned. “I’m sorry I said that, Porky. Now listen. I’m just back from Rocky Point. Of course you know Farlin went in. When you couldn’t follow him like Lester wanted you to, he had the nerve to turn the job over to me. Then he followed me and tried to pot me. I made him cough up five thousand dollars, and I’m going to split with you.
I’m not fooling for a quarter of a split second. I want you to know I’m on the square, and I’m the only one here who is on the square with you. Get that into your head and keep it there. Your supposed-to-be-friend Lester wanted to finish you.”

  The little gunman’s eyes were popping and a slight flush came into his withered cheeks.

  “You’re . . . goin’ . . . to . . . split?” he mumbled.

  “Twenty-five hundred dollars is yours when you want it,” Bond assured him. “And now I want you to do me a favor. So far as Lester is concerned, you’re through. I guess you know that. So far as I can make out, you never did much good for yourself by trailing with him in the first place. I’m going to tell you a thing or two, Porky, and I’m going to trust you. I guarantee you a sweet piece of change if you play with me, and a new chance as well as a chance to get even with Lester. I called the turn on him in Rocky Point, and he’s a rat. I want to know why he’s so interested in what Farlin does, and what’s going on under cover here. I rode hard to get back here and have this talk with you before Lester or Farlin could get back. And Lawson’s no friend of yours, either.” Bond leaned forward and tapped Porky on the arm. “I’m your best bet,” he said convincingly.

  But there was a flicker of suspicion in Porky’s eyes. “What makes you so interested in all this?” he demanded in a stronger voice.

  Bond smiled. “Here’s where I have to trust you, Porky,” he said in a low voice, smiling faintly. “It’s Farlin I’m interested in. I don’t want to see him get in bad in anything. You’re no fool and you should be able to guess why I feel this way.”

  “They say you’re dynamite,” grunted Porky. “You got a job planned up here?”

  “I didn’t have. But now I guess I have.”

  The little gunfighter’s eyes gleamed. “Farlin, eh?” he said in a whisper. “You want to keep him out of trouble because of the girl? Is that it, eh? Am I right?” He rose partly on an elbow.

  “I knew you were smart enough to guess it.” Bond nodded.

  Porky’s face froze into cold lines. “She’s a nice girl,” he said significantly.

  “That’s exactly why I’m interested, Porky,” said Bond, and there was no mistaking the ring of truth in his voice.

  Porky looked away. “That makes it different,” he murmured. Then he smiled a bit wistfully as if the thought that he might be able to do a good turn was agreeable. Next he looked at Bond sharply. “You’re sure?” he asked sternly.

  “I don’t have to answer that question,” said Bond with a light frown. “You know I’m sure.”

  “Gimme a glass of water,” Porky ordered. “An’ if Lester or Lawson find out I told you, they’ll fill me so full of holes that a hunk of Swiss cheese would look like a solid brick alongside of me.” He drank the water in long gulps. “Now there’s a nip of likker in that top drawer. Gimme that.” The stuff caused him to gasp for breath, but he talked rapidly under its stimulation. “Lester’s out of it,” he told Bond. “All he’s afraid of is that Dan Farlin will leave the town an’ the Red Arrow’ll lose a bunch what comes there just to play with Dan. Anyway, that’s as much as I know. Of course, he would like to find out how much money Dan’s got an’ all that, an’ he’s jealous of him because he’s so popular an’ ain’t afraid of him. He thought he had Dan under his thumb till Dan showed him a while ago that he was all wrong. Then he saw Dan an’ Lawson with their heads together an’ . . . well, Lester’s always been the suspicious, sneakin’ kind. You know?” He paused, and Bond nodded. So far, his own conjectures were right.

  “The other mornin’,” Porky went on, lowering his voice to a whisper so that Bond barely could hear, “Lester put me on Farlin’s trail. Farlin went to breakfast with Lawson, an’ I followed ’em. I took a big chance to overhear part of what they said in a booth at the café. I thought later on I could worm a bunch of money out of Lester for what I knew. Fat chance.” He sneered and asked for a cigarette.

  Bond rolled a smoke and gave it to him. He knew better than to interrupt the gunman’s trend of thought.

  Porky took a few puffs, his gaze sharpened, and he leaned toward his listener.

  “This whole thing around here is goin’ to bust up,” he said. “Lawson’s goin’ to beat it, an’ Dan Farlin’s goin’ to beat it. Lawson’s laid off of Rocky Point so’s he’d be left alone when he breezed in here with his bunch. Now he wants to make a last big haul . . . the bank at Rocky Point.” A weird grin played on the speaker’s lips. “You begin to get it?” he asked in a tone of triumph. “He put it up to Farlin to throw in with him an’ get the lay down at the Point. Lawson can’t circulate down there without the sheriff gettin’ wise to him an’ everybody puttin’ extra locks on their cash boxes. Farlin saw a chance for a big rake-off, an’ he took it. He went to the Point to get the lay of the land for Lawson. Now you’ve got it.” He leaned back, smiling.

  Jim Bond took the deadly right hand of the gunman in his own. His eyes shone.

  “Thanks, Porky,” he said simply. “And remember that anything I do is because I know Gladys Farlin is a nice girl, as you put it. You and me are together in this and you can be sure that from now on you’ve got a two-fisted, hard-shooting, square friend in Sunrise. And I’m forgetting you told me a thing.”

  “Funny you didn’t ask me why I was up to Farlin’s cabin when I got shot,” mused Porky with a curious side glance.

  “I figured you were trying to cop a roll and beat it yourself,” said Bond with a wave of his hand.

  “You’re not so dumb,” Porky grunted. “Now get out of here before somebody shows up.”

  Bond left as unobtrusively as he had come.

  Chapter Eighteen

  To Porky Snyder’s secret amusement and delight, his next visitor (he didn’t take into account the man who brought his breakfast or the doctor) later in the morning was none other than Big Tom Lester.

  The resortkeeper had shaved and otherwise erased the marks of travel, but fatigue showed in the intricate wrinkles about his eyes, and in the eyes themselves, although he strove valiantly to imbue them with a cheerful sparkle.

  “Well, well, Porky, old-timer, they tell me you’ll be on a sunfishin’ bronc’ in a few days,” he said, rubbing his hands. “I’m mighty glad to hear it, ’cause I was worried. I’d have been up here sooner, but”—he looked swiftly about and lowered his voice—“when you couldn’t go, I followed Farlin myself.” He nodded energetically and took the chair near the bed. “How do you feel?” he asked with real concern in his voice.

  “I’ll pull out of it,” replied Porky laconically with a queer look. It was like having a play enacted for his special benefit, and he with foreknowledge of the plot.

  “Why, of course!” exclaimed Lester. “Does the doctor say how . . . how soon you’ll be about again?”

  “You know how those pill-mixers are,” Porky complained. “They don’t say anything. I reckon it’s up to my constitution.”

  “Well, you’ve got that,” said Lester in a satisfied tone. “Now, don’t you get to feelin’ down-hearted. I’m goin’ to give you some money, even if you couldn’t do the job I asked you to do. You don’t have to worry about that. I was wonderin’.” He hesitated and then said: “What in thunder was you doin’ up at Farlin’s place?”

  “Thought I might get some advance information,” said Porky.

  Lester indulged in a wry smile. He knew this was a lie but he had to accept the explanation. Porky had gone up there to crack Dan Farlin’s strongbox and then he had intended to beat it. That was the size of it. Farlin must suspect that, too. Very well. Porky was more in Lester’s power than ever and Lester intended to use him in a desperate way. And then—get rid of him.

  The resortkeeper became even more confidential in manner and speech.

  “Listen, Porky, what was that young fool of a Bond doin’ up there?” he asked. “I’ll tell you why I’m curious afterward.”

  Porky could have laughed in Lester’s mean face.

  “Why, he wa
s tryin’ to buzz around Farlin’s girl, of course,” he answered.

  “Was he the one that shot you?” persisted Big Tom eagerly.

  “Now you’ve got me,” said Porky. “I don’t know who shot me. I was all in a daze an’ went out quick. I woke up here.”

  “I see.” Lester nodded. It annoyed him to realize that he didn’t know if Porky were telling him the truth or not. Still—what difference did it make who shot him? He shrugged as if he were dismissing the matter from his mind as unimportant. “All right. Now, Porky, old-timer, the thing for you to do is to get well as quick as you can. Do what the doctor says an’ don’t worry. I’ve got something good for you when you can get around again. This isn’t a cheap job. It’ll bring you in enough to keep you for more than one winter. Cheer up an’ say nothing. Just leave it to me. An’, by the way, send over for anything you want. I’m tellin’ ’em downstairs that I’m responsible for all your bills, understand? They know you’ve been workin’ for me off an’ on an’ won’t think anything of it. I’m standin’ right behind you, you know that, don’t you?”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” said Porky. “I need a friend now.”

  “Well, you’ve got one in me just like you always had,” Lester declared, rising. “If you want anything, just let me know. I’ll be up to see you right along an’ you just cheer up an’ get back on your feet. See?”

  “What kind of a job you got comin’ up for me?” Porky asked. “I’m sick of this trailin’ people around an’ . . .”

  “You don’t have to do another bit of it,” Lester broke in.

  “Is . . . is it a killin’ job?” Porky asked softly, his eyes holding Lester’s.

  “If it was, wouldn’t I be a fool to say so ahead of time?” scoffed Lester. “Just you get well an’ then we’ll talk proper. You don’t even have to tell anybody I was up here. You an’ me must stick together, Porky. An’ let me tell you one thing . . . this shootin’ wasn’t any half accident like some folks would have us believe. Don’t forget that. I’m leaving this quart in case you need a nip.” He took a bottle from inside his coat and put it in a drawer of the bureau. Then he took his departure.