Sudden--Troubleshooter (A Sudden Western) #5

by Frederick H. Christian

  ‘The same place it leaves yu, actually,’ Green said. His smile was cold and mirthless, and for a moment Appleby felt an icy finger of panic touch his spine.

  ‘What yu drivin’ at, Green?’ he spat.

  ‘Yu ain’t answered the question yu asked everyone else, Marshal,’ Sudden said reasonably. ‘Where was yu when Gunnison was killed?’

  Appleby’s jaw dropped. Too late he saw the hole in his plan, the one false step which this smiling devil had seen from the start. His mind raced furiously as he tried to anticipate Green’s questions and think simultaneously.

  ‘Yu left the Harris place an’ rode towards Saber,’ Sudden said inexorably. ‘At the same time yu was leavin’ the JH, Gunnison was leavin’ the Saber. Yu both took the same trail. Yet you didn’t see him. How come, Marshal?’

  Appleby shrugged, maintaining an outward air of calmness which he hoped concealed his desperation.

  ‘Search me,’ he said. ‘Mebbe he didn’t use the trail. Mebbe he seen me an’ thought I was one o’ the homesteaders, an’ dodged me.’

  ‘Funny,’ Sudden snapped. ‘Yu arrest me claimin’ I ran into Gunnison an’ bumped him off – an’ he don’t even try to sidestep me – yet yu claim he dodges off the trail to avoid a man he knows well. Does that sound likely?’

  A constant murmur of speculation washed around the room as the spectators, for the first time, realized that Appleby was in a position from which he could not extricate himself. Somehow the dark-haired cowboy had turned the tables; now it was the Marshal who was on trial, not Sudden.

  ‘I’m goin’ to repeat somethin’ yu said to me,’ Sudden told him, advancing to place himself squarely in front of the lawman. ‘I got a man who had the time, the opportunity, an’ the reason.’

  Appleby’s eyes swept the courtroom wildly, seeking support from the faces of the spectators. None could he see; every face was set, and they awaited Sudden’s next words with tense anticipation. It was Appleby who spoke first, however, biting back the terror that threatened to rise in his throat.

  ‘Yo’re out o’ yore mind,’ he croaked. ‘Why would I want to kill Lafe Gunnison?’

  Sudden turned to the Governor. ‘I got a surprise witness, seh.' He turned and pointed with his chin to where Terry Kitson was shepherding in an old man with graying hair and a silvery beard. Randy Gunnison half rose in his chair, a strangled sound coming from his throat. Appleby sat stock still, only his eyes moving.

  Speculation about the old man’s identity created a buzz of talk in the room, but silence fell immediately Sudden started to speak.

  ‘Thisyere is Shorty Willis.’ he told Bleke. ‘Tell us yore story, Shorty.’

  The old man nodded, and in a dry, cracked voice recounted the details which Sudden had heard, those many nights ago, in the little shack up in the mountains. There was dead silence as the spectators listened to the old man’s unvarnished account of how he had been fooled into looking after the Saber cattle, and of the involvement of Randy Gunnison and his foreman. There were harsh murmurs from some of the men watching, for treachery of this sort was outside even their easy-going set of moral rules. When the old man had finished speaking Sudden whirled to face Randolph Gunnison. ‘What have yu got to say, Gunnison?’

  Randy Gunnison’s mouth opened but no sound came out. He tried to say something, but before he could utter the words another voice cut harshly in. It was the deep voice of Jim Dancy, and every word was a whiplash of contempt.

  ‘That damned ol’ desert-rat!’ he laughed. ‘He used to herd a few head for us up in the hills. I fired him about ten months ago when I found he was sellin’ beef to anyone who’d buy it! I would’a’ strung him up, ’ceptin’ for the fact he’s half crazy. Anyone takes his word for anything got to be more’n half loco hisself!’

  Shorty Willis looked stunned as Dancy hurled these words into the silent room, stilling instantly the murmurs which, a moment before, had been directed against him and the son of Saber’s owner. Sudden muttered an oath beneath his breath. If Dancy had stayed silent a moment longer, Gunnison might have broken. Now, the man’s color was back, and he sat once more erect in his chair, his confidence bolstered by Dancy’s well-timed lies.

  Bleke leaned forward to speak to Shorty. ‘Can you prove any of what you say?’ he asked.

  Shorty shook his head. ‘It’s my word agin his,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t prove none of it. But them cattle is in that canyon, an’ Jim Dancy brung ’em up there!’

  All eyes turned again to the burly Saber foreman, but his face was wreathed in a contemptuous sneer.

  ‘They’s no cattle in the Yavapais belongin’ to Saber!’ he stated flatly, and with sinking hearts Sudden’s friends realized that Dancy’s obvious confidence indicated that he had made sure the cattle were no longer in the canyon.

  ‘Hold yore hosses a moment, Dancy!’ Sudden’s voice was clarion clear, and halted the Saber man in his tracks as he swaggered back to his seat, amid the congratulations of his hangers-on.

  Dancy turned, a frown appearing on his face. ‘What now?’ he growled. ‘Yu goin’ to make some more wild claims?’

  ‘Wait an’ see,’ Sudden advised him. He turned to face the jury. ‘A while back,’ he told them, ‘Susan Harris an’ Philadelphia, the kid workin’ on the Harris place, was shot at from ambush.’ An astonished murmur greeted this news; many of those present had not heard of this event. ‘Philadelphia an’ me tracked the bushwhacker as far as the Yavapai, where he crossed. It looked like he’d ridden to the Saber, so we rode over an’ talked to Lafe Gunnison about it.’

  ‘An’ got sent off with a flea in yore ear!’ said Dancy scornfully, to the accompaniment of laughter from some of the hearers, who could imagine old Lafe Gunnison’s reaction to the suggestion that the puncher was making.

  ‘Somethin’ happened yu don’t know about, Dancy,’ continued Sudden. ‘When we left the ranch, I doubled back an’ took a look in yore stables. I found a hoss that had been ridden hard, with sign on him that showed he’d been acrost the Yavapai. The jasper we’d trailed hadn’t bothered to cover his sign much. Anyway, I marked that hoss so I’d know him again.’

  Dancy looked startled for a moment, then his bravado returned. ‘So what?’ he said.

  Sudden turned to a bystander. ‘Would yu take a gander at Dancy’s sorrel outside? See if yu can find a hair-brand o’ my initials under the saddle – “JG”, it oughta be right easy to find.’

  The man hastened to do Sudden’s bidding, while Dancy stood glaring at the puncher. His mind seethed as the whole room waited in silence for the verdict. It came like a thunderclap when the man at the door shouted in, ‘The hoss is branded just like this feller sez!’

  There was immediate commotion in the courtroom, which lapsed into reluctant silence as Bleke pounded insistently with the hammer. The Governor turned towards Dancy.

  ‘Do you have any comment, Dancy?’ he queried, iron in his voice.

  ‘Hell, Governor,’ Dancy said querulously, ‘I ain’t denyin’ my hoss could be carryin’ this jasper’s brand. We on’y got his word for it that he done it when he said he done it.’

  ‘When else could I have done it, Dancy?’ Sudden asked relentlessly.

  ‘Makes no never mind when yu done it!’ snapped the foreman of the Saber. ‘It shore don’t prove I bushwhacked them kids up in the Mesquites!’

  ‘We trailed a bushwhacker to the Yavapai, an’ figgered he’d come from Saber. We find yore hoss hard used, with sign he’d been across the river. An’ yu deny yu know anythin’ about it?’ There was deep scorn in Sudden’s voice which found an echo in the babble of speculation his words loosed among the watchers.

  ‘I’ll tell yu all I know,’ Dancy rasped. ‘But it won’t do yu no good, mister. Yo’re tryin’ to throw sand in people’s eyes by takin’ their attention off the fac’ that yu killed Lafe Gunnison! Well, the hell with yu, Mr. Sudden! I wondered whether someone had been monkeyin’ around when I found one o’ my men buffaloed in the stables a few hour
s after yu’d left Saber. But nothin’ was stolen, an’ the man claimed he’d seen nothin’, so I let it ride. Now yu tell me yu marked my hoss, an’ expect these people to believe that it proves I took a shot at yore frien’s. Yo’re loco!’ He hurled the last two words at Sudden with undisguised venom, and the puncher saw the answering flash of triumph appear in Appleby’s eyes. He shook his head. Once again evidence of complicity had been negated by what amounted to brazen defiance. He could not prove that Dancy had been the ambusher, and Dancy knew it. At this juncture the Marshal rose to his feet.

  ‘Governor, this play-actin’s gone on long enough! This Sudden feller’s wastin’ time tryin’ to throw up enough dust to fog the minds o’ thisyere court. But every bit o’ so-called evidence he trots out is as phony as a three-dollar bill! I’m sayin’ we orta get on with what we come here for – to try a killer!’

  There were several shouts of ‘Attaboy, Tom!’ and ‘That’s tellin’ him, Marshal!’ from the back of the saloon at this speech, and Sudden realized that so far he had done nothing to weaken the solid foundation which Appleby and his tools had built in this town. The uproar was stilled by Bleke, whose ice-cold voice silenced the angry cries within seconds.

  ‘Marshal, I think it fairly well established that on the face of the evidence either Green or yourself had the opportunity to kill Lafe Gunnison,’ rapped the Governor. ‘I do not appreciate your attempts at rabble-rousing. Don’t make the mistake of trying it again in front of me!’ He rapped the bar again for silence. ‘Is there any further evidence against this man you wish to present?’

  Appleby shook his head sullenly. He took three steps and faced Sudden, his face contorted.

  ‘Well, Mr. Sudden,’ he hissed. ‘I ain’t got yu, but yu ain’t got me. Yu’ve accused me o’ killin’ Lafe Gunnison when every man in this town knows I’ve done my best to keep things peaceful here for two years. Yu’ve made other claims which ain’t done anythin’ except make yore standin’ in this town worse. Yu ain’t out o’ the woods yet, Sudden! I’m still aimin’ to find Lafe Gunnison’s killer, an’ I’m bettin’ on it bein’ yu!’

  An angry sound rose from the massed spectators. Appleby’s words had cleverly played upon their loyalty, for among the townspeople he had a reputation for square dealing that had always been to their liking.

  ‘Yu lose yore bet, Appleby!’ boomed a voice from the back of the room. The Marshal whirled to face the direction from which the voice had come, his hand flying to the gun at his side. His hand closed on empty air, and he turned to see Sudden holding the weapon leveled at his chest.

  ‘Seen a ghost, Marshal?’ gritted Sudden. Indeed, Appleby’s face was ghastly enough to have convinced any onlooker that such was the case, and in truth the man was shaken by the sight which caused every man in the room to rise to his feet.

  ‘My Gawd, it’s Lafe Gunnison!’ shouted one spectator, unable to repress his astonishment any longer.

  ‘Yeah,’ said another. ‘What’s left o’ him.’

  The old rancher looked like a man at death’s door as he limped down the aisle between the chairs. Supporting his huge bulk by means of one of his arms over their shoulders were Susan Harris and Philadelphia, his face slightly grey under his tan. Gunnison’s huge frame was wasted, and his formerly iron-grey hair had turned completely white. His face was marked by bruises and abrasions, and etched deep into his expression were the lines of pain and suffering. He lurched into the open space in front of the bench, spurning further help from Philadelphia and Susan, and came to a stop before his trembling son, who cowered before his father’s accusing finger.

  ‘There’s yore killer: my own son!’

  A cry of rage arose from the spectators, who completely ignored the insistent pounding of Bleke’s gavel as they grabbed Randy Gunnison with none-too-gentle hands and stripped him of his hideaway gun, two men on each arm holding him prisoner as immutably as if he were chained to rock.

  ‘Yes, my own son tried to kill me. Damn near succeeded, too! He must have thought I was cashed, shore. Whoever tossed me in that dry wash up in the Mesquites didn’t even look to see if I was dead. I woke up with buzzards flapping around me. Laid there all day in the open. Finally, I managed to crawl to water. I must’ve passed out. I crawled a lot. All I knowed was it was downhill. Next thing I knew I was in a bed in the Harris place, with these two youngsters tendin’ my wounds. When I regained consciousness they told me what had happened.’ A dry cough racked his frame, and fresh redness stained the bandages around his chest. ‘It … it’s a lot worse than it looks,’ he managed, trying to smile. He turned to his son, pain in every line of his face. ‘I know yu never loved me,’ he gasped. ‘But why did yu try to kill me?’

  Randolph Gunnison tried to wrench away from his captors, tried insanely to escape the accusation in his father’s staring eyes. His captors held him immovably.

  Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes rolled madly. ‘I had to!’ he screamed ‘I had to! You kept asking and asking how I knew you hadn’t hired Cameron. I was scared you’d guess it was Appleby’

  ‘Shut up, yu damned fool!’ the Marshal roared in an agonized voice. ‘Shut yore stupid mouth!’

  ‘Take a mite o’ your own advice, Marshal,’ a cold voice warned him, and the lawman subsided as Sudden gestured minutely with the gun.

  ‘He’s been holding me to ransom ever since he came here!’ Randy Gunnison was raving. ‘I got into trouble in Santa Fe … cards. A woman. There was a shooting … I … ran. He followed me. Told me he could get me hung … had to do what he said. He said … if I did … he’d make me rich.’

  ‘Rich?’ coughed Gunnison. ‘How did he aim to make yu richer than I could?’ He reeled slightly, as though about to fall, and Sudden, thrusting the gun into the hands of a bystander with terse instructions to shoot Appleby if he moved an eyebrow, moved to support the old man. He lowered him gently to a chair, while Randy Gunnison continued to speak as though some trigger had been tripped in his mind and nothing could stop the flow of words.

  ‘He knew about … loot from robberies … the Jefferson gang … all hidden under a cabin, up in the Mesquites. Two hundred thousand dollars. Under one of the nester’s shacks.’

  ‘So he had to clear the nesters out afore he could look for the money,’ Sudden prompted the younger Gunnison.

  A cackling laugh made him turn his head. Weak though he was, the old man was chortling in amusement.

  ‘He believed that ol’ fairy-tale?’ He coughed, pain wracking his face. ‘Hell, boy, there ain’t no money up there! Never was.’

  Appleby made as if to step forward, and immediately heavy hands restrained him forcefully. He writhed in the grasp of his captors and spat, ‘Yo’re lyin’! I know there’s money up there!’ He stopped, a crafty look crossing his face.

  Sudden twined to face him. ‘Yu were sayin’ …?’ he prompted.

  ‘I’ll see yu in hell,’ cursed the Marshal.

  ‘More’n likely,’ agreed Sudden equably. ‘Yo’re right, Marshal. There was money up there. It was under Reb Johnstone’s shack, and the total amount was … how much was it, Mr. Granger?’

  ‘Two hundred and twenty three thousand, six hundred and forty dollars, sir,’ announced the banker, enjoying the gasps of astonishment that the figures caused. Not a few of the men in the saloon looked at the struggling Appleby with sympathy for the first time since Gunnison had made his astounding entrance. The banker handed Sudden a large satchel, which the cowboy took across to Appleby.

  ‘This has been in the bank since the day yu killed Cameron,’ he said. ‘This is what yu lied for an’ murdered for, Marshal.’ He emptied the satchel on the floor. Men craned their necks, jostled and shoved to catch a glimpse of the cascade of paper which Sudden emptied at Appleby’s feet.

  “Take a look at it!’ Sudden’s voice was a harsh command, and he snatched up a fistful of the money and thrust it under Appleby’s nose. ‘Take a good look, Appleby. Do yu know what the Jefferson boys sto
le? They robbed a train loaded with Confederate money that was being taken to Washington to be burned. Two hundred and twenty three thousand dollars – an’ not worth the paper they’re printed on.

  ‘No …’ Appleby’s face was grey. ‘No. Yo’re lyin’, yo’re lyin’, yo’re lyin’!’ His voice was a thin scream.

  Randolph Gunnison, too, had been stricken by the revelation. He slumped now in the arms of the men who held him, weeping like a child. An astonished clatter of conversation filled the courtroom. Jake Harris pushed forward to ask his employee a question.

  ‘Shucks, that was easy, seh,’ Green told him. ‘I just checked the land office maps for ‘sixty-six, which was when they caught the Jefferson boys. They only showed one cabin up in the Mesquites. Location was nigh on the same as Johnstone’s. After that, it was only a matter o’ diggin’ it up.’

  Now it was Lafe Gunnison’s turn to speak. He got slowly to his feet and approached the bar, behind which Governor Bleke sat, his grey eyes not missing a movement in the room.

  ‘Yo’re Bleke,’ Gunnison said softly.

  ‘Yes, Gunnison. I’m Bleke.’

  ‘It took yu long enough to get up here.’

  Bleke smiled. ‘Oh, no,’ he told the old rancher. ‘I’ve been here some considerable time. Not in person, of course. But when I got your first letter I sent my special deputy.’

  Appleby overheard this exchange and looked from Bleke to Gunnison in utter confusion.

  ‘He wrote to yu … about the Yavapai valley?’

  Bleke nodded. ‘You were nothing like as subtle as you seem to think you were, Appleby. Green spotted you very quickly.’

  ‘Green?’ cried the lawman hoarsely. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’

  ‘Everything,’ Bleke told him, his voice cutting. ‘Green is my special deputy. He has been acting on my orders throughout.’

  Jake Harris stepped forward, his eyes shining and his hand out-thrust. ‘I never thought I’d live to see the day I’d want to shake yore hand, Gunnison, but by God! I aim to do her now! If yu wrote to Governor Bleke askin’ for help, that’s all the proof I need that we can get along in the future.’