Blood on Mcallister

by Matt Chisholm

  He hit the hallway and turned to the side of the building.

  ‘There’re fairies at the bottom of your alleyway,’ he told her and reached the side door.

  The shooting had stopped.

  He opened the door a crack. He listened while Mart and a man not ten paces away from him, McAllister, exchanged words. Finally Mart said: ‘Come toward me. Take it mighty easy. One wrong move an’ I drop you.’

  The man near McAllister started walking. He passed McAllister and went on down the alley. Then there came the sound of a blow. A man cried out in intense pain. There came the sound of several more blows. McAllister lunged from the doorway, turned right and started running. He dared not shoot for fear of hitting Mart. Gun-flame stabbed the darkness in front of him, a bullet whistled past his ear. He collided with a man, his gun fell from his hand and he was hurled back against the wall. He hit ground and started desperately searching around for his gun, but he heard feet pounding away from him down the alleyway.

  Somebody groaned from nearby.

  Rosa’s voice came: ‘Rem, are you all right?’

  ‘Bring a light,’ he called.

  He found his gun and a body almost in the same moment.

  ‘Mart,’ he said. All he got in reply was another groan. He heard men venturing into the alleyway and he called out: ‘Stay back.’ They halted. For all he knew the gunman was among them. Slipping his gun away, he bent and picked the sheriff up in his arms. Rosa appeared from the doorway with a light and he carried Mart inside.

  When he had carried him into Rosa’s office and laid him on the couch, he saw by the light of the lamp that the sheriff was horribly battered. His right wrist hung limply as if it were broken. His mouth and nose were bloody, the front of his shirt and vest was covered in blood. Rosa put the lamp down and said in quiet horror: ‘Who could have done this thing?’

  McAllister said: ‘I don’t know, but I’ll find him.’

  Even as he started stripping off Mart’s bloody clothing, he started thinking, knowing that one good reason for putting Mart out of action was to make the way clear for… for what? For something that Brenell wanted to do. And Brenell only wanted to do one thing right now—get his hands on McAllister.

  He said: ‘Get one of your boys to fetch the doctor, Rosa.’

  The girl hurried out. McAllister got to work on Mart, stripping the clothes from him and trying to assess the full amount of the damage. The hard body looked as if it had been kicked repeatedly and the sight would have made a softer man want to retch. McAllister fetched water and started to bathe the wounds. Mart groaned and opened his eyes.

  He groaned and tried to speak, but his jaw trembled only and no words came out.

  McAllister said: ‘Take it easy, Mart. The doc’s comin’.’

  Finally Mart managed to get out: ‘Who did it?’ He tried to move his right arm and the pain of the attempt brought another groan from his colorless lips.

  McAllister said: ‘I don’t know. But I’ll find him.’

  ‘Two of them,’ Mart whispered. ‘One big… big as a Goddam house …’

  A little later, the doctor arrived. He had seen the results of a lot of fights in his time, but he had never seen a man damaged like this one. He stared down at the injured man in quiet horror for a moment.

  ‘Who could do a thing like this?’ he echoed Rosa.

  Nobody said anything. McAllister moved toward the door as the doctor started work on Mart. The girl followed him and asked: ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Find the man who did that to Mart.’

  ‘Rem, there is Brenell to think of.’

  ‘I’m thinkin’ of him.’

  ‘You don’t think he did this?’

  ‘He has to be behind it.’

  She laid a soft hand on his arm, came close.

  ‘Rem, give Clem back to him. Forget it. Enough men have been hurt. Let it end now.’

  McAllister touched her face tenderly with his fingertips. ‘That’s what Brenell would like me to do. No—Brenell’s goin’ to pay for everythin’ he’s done. For burning Jim out, for Mart. I’m goin’ to run him outa the country.’

  ‘But he is a big man. He is powerful.’

  ‘Ain’t he?’ McAllister snarled and turned away, headed for the stairs and went down them. He walked into the saloon, ordered whiskey, downed it and went out onto the street. He knew that he wasn’t thinking too clearly. The man who had beaten Mart could cut down on him. Maybe that was what he wanted. He wanted the man who had done it out in the open with a gun in his hand.

  ‘One big,’ Mart had said. ‘Big as a Goddam house.’

  Moose.

  Harry Shultz was at the back of this. McAllister stopped in his tracks, thinking. Harry had said that he would kill Billy and McAllister. He had put Mart out of action. The field was now clear. He wouldn’t care if Clem got hurt in the process. Therefore Clem was no longer a protection. McAllister’s mind raced. He had to settle with Brenell. Make a deal. Get Brenell off their backs and go after Shultz and his man, Moose.

  He walked back along Main. There were men gathered in little knots, talking. They recognised him in the lamplight and threw him questions—how was the sheriff? Was he going to live? Who had attacked him? He gave them short answers and hurried on. He walked a block and turned left, covered another block, checked that he was not being followed and dove down a dark alleyway. He walked to the other end of the narrow way, wary as a cat and walked out onto the back-lots. Walking through the trash that had been thrown there, he made his way to the rear of Rosa’s place. Mounting the loading platform, he tapped out a message on a window. The window opened.

  ‘Rem?’

  ‘Billy—somebody just beat Mart Krantz near to death.’ Billy exclaimed with surprise and McAllister talked on, told about his ideas on the reasons for the sheriff being beaten, told Billy what he was planning to do.

  Billy said: ‘You ain’t thinking straight, Rem. Brenell will promise you anything to get his son back. But he ain’t the kind of a man to stick to his word.’

  ‘What the hell else can we do?’

  ‘While we have Clem, we have a strong hand.’

  ‘That’s right enough.’

  ‘We give Clem up, what have we?’

  McAllister knew that Billy was right. He hadn’t been thinking straight. Mart being beaten that way had knocked him off-balance. This wasn’t Mart’s fight. He started again. He talked, letting Billy hear him thinking aloud. What if he went to Brenell and made a deal now? While they still had Clem. But the result depended on whether Brenell was behind Shultz or not and McAllister had no proof that he was. Shultz had told them that he meant to kill them. He could be hiding in a shadow now waiting to shoot. Maybe he was a separate issue to Brenell. He found that he was sweating.

  ‘How’s the prisoner?’ he asked.

  Billy said: ‘Keeps telling me what his old man’s going to do to us.’

  ‘Let me in.’

  Billy closed the window and a moment later the door alongside it opened and McAllister stepped into the darkness of the saloon’s interior. He walked into the storeroom where they were keeping their prisoner. It was lit faintly by lamplight. Clem was on the floor, lying bound hand and foot with a gag in his mouth. McAllister noted this and asked: ‘Did he yell?’

  Billy grinned.

  ‘No. I just got tired of him telling me what his old man was going to do.’

  Clem fought his bonds at the sight of McAllister and his eyes showed his burning hatred.

  ‘It won’t go on much longer,’ McAllister said. ‘You stay low, Billy. Shultz’ll make his move pretty soon now Mart’s out of the way.’

  Billy said: ‘It ain’t right for you to face Shultz alone.’

  ‘Somebody has to stay with Clem,’ McAllister reminded him. ‘You’ve done your bit.’ He walked out of the room, down the narrow corridor and mounted the stairs. When he walked into Rosa’s room, all was quiet. By the light of the lamp on the bureau, McAllister saw Mart
’s still form on the bed. He went and looked down at his friend. The sheriff’s eyes met his. The lips trembled in an attempt at speech. The man fought his inability to speak, the sweat standing out on his forehead, a single vein swelling.

  ‘Take it easy, Mart,’ McAllister said. ‘You’re goin’ to be all right.’

  The lips trembled on.

  McAllister leaned lower. He heard a faint whisper.

  ‘Rosa…’

  McAllister laid a hand on the man’s shoulder, patting it.

  ‘Relax, Mart.’

  The man’s voice came stronger.

  ‘Rosa.’

  There was deep anguish in it now. Sudden apprehension swooped on McAllister, it was like a cold hand on his spine. Something had happened to Rosa.

  He heard the faint sound then and lifted his eyes. A door opened and a man walked into the room. This was a door through which McAllister had never been, leading to a room off the bedroom. The man was Harry Shultz. There was no gun in his hand and he looked completely as his ease. In fact, his coarse lips were pulled back in an easy smile.

  McAllister’s right hand dropped instinctively to the cedar wood butt of the Remington.

  ‘No call for that, McAllister,’ Shultz said. ‘It won’t help you any.’

  McAllister didn’t know what to say. He was in a situation, as he could see at once, in which words wouldn’t help at all.

  He straightened up.

  ‘Say your piece,’ he said.

  Shultz’s smile continued.

  ‘I have the girl,’ he said. ‘Or rather Moose has the girl in the next room. You’re hamstrung, McAllister.’

  McAllister swallowed hard. He didn’t like this one little bit.

  ‘You could be lyin’,’ he said. But he knew the man was telling the truth.

  ‘Moose,’ Shultz called over his shoulder, ‘let’s hear the girl.’

  There was a short pause, then he heard Rosa all right. She gave a short shrill scream that was cut off short. Instinctively, he started forward in hot rage. Shultz stopped him with a gesture of a hand.

  ‘Try anythin’,’ he said, ‘and the girl gets the knife. Moose is holding the point at her throat.’

  McAllister got a grip on himself.

  ‘You want to do a deal?’ he asked.

  The smile broadened to a grin.

  ‘That’s more like it,’ Shultz said.

  ‘Talk.’

  ‘First,’ Shultz said, ‘I want Clem Brenell.’

  McAllister nodded.

  ‘What’s second?’ he demanded.

  ‘We’ll talk about that when Clem is with his daddy and you have the girl.’

  ‘How do I know you’ll let me have the girl?’

  Shultz gave a short barking laugh.

  ‘You don’t.’

  McAllister gave him a long look, thinking. There was no way out. But he wanted time, time to think, time to set something up and he could gain a little time by fetching Clem. He felt suddenly helpless and hopeless. He’d been too damned smart and now his smartness had blown up in his face.

  ‘I’ll get Clem,’ he said.

  Shultz said: ‘And Billy. I’ll have Billy right here under my eye. That’ll be real nice.’

  ‘Billy’s out of town,’ McAllister said.

  Shultz cocked his head as though he were listening to some distant sound.

  ‘With Clem?’

  ‘No, not with Clem,’ McAllister lied.

  ‘Where’s Clem?’

  ‘That’s not in the bargain,’ McAllister told him. ‘It’s enough for me to produce him.’

  Shultz got suddenly mad.

  ‘Who says it’s enough? Did I say that? It ain’t enough. I want to know where he’s at.’ He crossed the room and, as he did so, a knife appeared in his hand. McAllister braced his muscles and almost jumped him as a reaction to the movement. Would Moose touch the girl if Shultz were in his power? Something like terror for the girl touched McAllister. He relaxed and watched the knife point touch his shirt. Shultz’s left hand plucked the Remington from its sheath and tossed it onto the bed.

  ‘I tell you what,’ he said through his yellow teeth. ‘You an’ me’ll go get Clem together.’

  McAllister couldn’t think of anything to say to that. He knew Shultz had him by the short hairs.

  ‘All right,’ he said. Maybe Billy could pull something. Maybe then they could jump Moose and save the girl. The idea of being beaten by Brenell and Shultz went against the grain. He cursed venemously to himself. But one thing was clear now. Shultz was working for Brenell.

  ‘How far is it?’ Shultz asked.

  ‘Not far.’

  ‘Horse ride?’

  ‘No.’

  Shultz gave him a long look, reached inside his coat with his left hand and produced a revolver. It was small, but it could kill a man. McAllister respected it.

  ‘Stay right there. Don’t move a hand,’ Shultz said. He walked backward to the door behind him and spoke to Moose over his shoulder. McAllister tried to see the girl, but he could not. Then Shultz slammed the door and beckoned him to go ahead. McAllister walked out of the room and Shultz followed. They went down the rear stairs, along the corridor and reached the storeroom door. McAllister glanced around at Shultz. The man was watching him like a hawk. He raised his hand and rapped on the panel of the door. It wasn’t the right signal for Billy. At least McAllister could give him a little warning of what was to come.

  There was a slight pause before the bolt was withdrawn and Billy’s face appeared in the doorway. Shultz swung his gun on him.

  ‘Drop your gun on the floor.’

  Billy hesitated.

  McAllister said: ‘He has the girl.’

  Billy looked startled and asked: ‘What girl?’

  ‘Rosa.’

  Billy fingered his gun out and dropped it on the floor. Shultz gestured them into the room and followed them in. His eyes fell on Clem who now was making desperate noises and straining at his bonds.

  Shultz said: ‘Cut him loose.’

  Billy gave McAllister a despairing look, then pulled a small knife from his pocket and opened it. Kneeling he cut Clem’s bonds. As soon as his hands were free, Clem tore the gag from his mouth and stood up. He was shaking and he looked like hell. He rubbed his wrists, limped around on his wounded leg and said: ‘Christ, I mighta died there. I coulda died. These two Goddam Indians …’

  Shultz sneered and said: ‘Run along to your daddy and tell him you come with my compliments.’

  Clem looked mean.

  ‘Not so damned fast,’ he said. ‘These two Indians had their fun. Now I’m gonna have mine.’ He looked as if he didn’t know who to hit first.

  Shultz laughed.

  ‘Be my guest,’ he said. ‘Take ‘em both.’

  Clem grinned crookedly. He swung a fist, fixed his eye on Billy and lurched awkwardly on his wounded leg toward him. McAllister stuck out his foot, Clem started to go down, wildly flailing at the air with his arms, McAllister hurled his weight at him and drove him into Shultz. The manager was smashed back against the wall and the two men fell to the floor. Shultz yelled in rage and fright; he tried pushing Clem clear of him and to line the gun up on McAllister, but the big man dove over Clem, smashing the gun to one side. The weapon clattered to the floor.

  Shultz was on his feet with an incredible speed, knife in hand, lunging for McAllister as he heaved himself off the floor. McAllister parried the thrust, forearm against forearm, got inside Shultz’s reach and smashed his head into the other’s face. Shultz staggered back against the wall and Billy and McAllister closed in on him.

  The blade flashed in Billy’s direction and the fair man fell back with a cry. McAllister drove a fist into Shultz’s face. The door slammed. As Shultz slid to the floor, McAllister turned.

  Clem!

  He hurried to the door and tore it open. Clem was disappearing down the corridor.

  Let him go, McAllister thought. Only Rosa matters now.

  He t
urned back into the storeroom and saw the two men lying on the floor. Blood had marked Billy’s coat at one shoulder. Shultz looked as though a house had fallen on him. McAllister had to move fast. He had to get Rosa away from Moose before Clem told his father what he had heard.

  ‘On your feet,’ he told Billy.

  Billy said: ‘I’m hurt.’

  McAllister snarled: ‘This ain’t no time to be hurt, boy. Get up and tie this sonovabitch.’

  Billy looked like he wanted to bring up his dinner, but somehow he crawled to his feet and gathered the ropes that had been used to tie Clem. McAllister scooped up Shultz’s gun and ran for the stairs. He went up them two at a time on tiptoe. At the door to Rosa’s room he stopped to get his breath. He opened the door slightly, saw Mart lying motionless on the bed and switched his eyes to the door of the inner room. Watching this, he crossed the room to Mart, exchanged Shultz’s gun for his own and his eyes met the sheriff’s.

  McAllister whispered: ‘Ball’s opened, Mart.’

  Did the sheriff smile?

  McAllister walked back to the main door, opened it, slammed it and shouted: ‘If anything happens to the girl, Shultz, I’ll kill you.’ He mumbled Shultz’s reply. He crossed the room and opened the inner door.

  The girl was sitting in a chair facing him. Her hands were tied behind her and her face was chalk white. Moose was relaxed at the window. He turned his head as the door opened and stared into the black eye of the Remington.

  Moose didn’t hesitate. There was a gun in his right hand and he jerked it up.

  McAllister fired.

  The man stared at him with wide eyes for a full second then staggered backward. The sill of the window caught him behind the knees and he crashed through the glass, his massive weight smashing the woodwork of the window. He disappeared from sight amid a rain of glass.

  McAllister thrust away his gun and jumped for the girl. It took no more than a moment to free her hands. She came limply in his arms and he held her for a brief second.

  ‘My God,’ he said.

  ‘Rem, Rem, Rem,’ she whispered.

  He lifted her up and carried her into the other room. He laid her on the couch. Then he apparently forgot her. He went over to Mart and looked down at him.

  ‘Deputise me, Mart,’ he said.