Steel Trails of Vengeance
Page 14
"Good to see you, Mr. Danner," Corbin greeted him. Danner nodded and removed his hat. Wainright slumped in a chair behind his desk with a trace of sulkiness, absently fingering the sawed-off shotgun which lay on the desk top. Apparently, he had become quite fond of the vicious weapon. Hostility hung heavily in the air. It was obvious that Corbin and his nephew had been brawling just before Danner arrived, and just as obvious that the old man had come out on top. Even yet, anger stained the faces of both men.
"Finding that train was a good piece of work," Corbin said with some of his usual heartiness. "Congratulations."
Danner nodded his thanks.
Corbin replaced the cigar in his mouth and with hands clasped behind his back, he paced back and forth in silence. Then he stopped and removed the cigar.
"I want to offer you my apologies for the way my nephew has treated you," Corbin said. "I've decided to remove him as general manager here. If you'll return to your old job, I'm sure the next manager will treat you with more consideration."
Danner glanced at the set features of Wainright and compassion touched him briefly. Recent events had toughened Wainright in some ways, making him more of a man, and softened him in other ways, improving his disposition. Working with him wouldn't be so unpleasant now. Then Danner glanced at Corbin.
"You can't really blame Tom very much," Danner said.
"What's that?"
"Everyone around here thought I had a part in that Spaulding robbery. And this train robbery was a perfect frame for me. Torn took an understandable course of action, even if he was wrong."
"You would defend him, after all that has happened?" Corbin demanded incredulously.
"He's made mistakes," Danner admitted, "but they were natural mistakes that almost anyone would have made. He has shown pretty poor judgment of men, but he isn't likely to do so again. In fact, most any Easterner coming out here would most likely do the same thing. I think you stand a better chance with Tom than if you sent out a new man."
"I see." Corbin puffed on the cigar thoughtfully. "I want you back on the job here. Do you think the two of you could work together in harmony?"
"I think so," Danner said, "now."
Danner half expected bitterness from Wainright at having his job saved by one he had hated. And Danner didn't want gratitude. When he saw Wainright's face he knew he would get neither. Instead, he saw respect soften the premature lines and he knew he had been right. They'd get along now, having learned to respect each other. A gentle tapping on the door broke the stillness of the room.
"Come in," Corbin said.
The door opened and Melinda moved inside, clutching a set of saddlebags with both hands. The whiteness of her features and the stunned, sick look in her eyes brought immediate apprehension to Danner. Silently she walked up to him, holding out the saddlebags. He took them from her and waited for her to speak.
"How much money was stolen from the express-car during that Spaulding robbery?"
"About $30,000."
Dully, she nodded. "I thought that was the amount. That's how much is in these saddlebags."
Hastily Danner dumped the contents of the bags on the top of the desk. Among the packages of crisp new bills nestled a pistol—a LeFaucheaux pin-fire pistol. A prickling danced along his backbone as he grabbed the pistol. Looking around, he spotted a pillow on the divan across the room. Quickly he moved across the room and grabbed up the pillow, wrapping it around the gun clutched in his hand. Then he stepped over to the window. Pointing the gun skyward, he pulled the trigger. A muffled sound came from the gun; the acrid sting of gunpowder made his nose twitch. Tossing the pillow aside, he withdrew the empty shell. The pin entered the shell case at about a sixty-degree angle. Wainright hurried over from his desk.
"Is it the gun which killed the Dooleys?"
Danner nodded, fixing his gaze on Melinda. A dumb misery clouded her vision and she seemed on the verge of collapse. Then she called on some hidden inner strength and regained control of herself, gesturing toward the saddlebags.
"I believe you'll find some old bloodstains on one side," she said.
Danner picked up the pouches and looked closely at some dark splotches.
Melinda put out a hand to the edge of the desk to steady herself. "I found the saddlebags this morning in the feed bin of our stable—just about four feet from where we found my father's body." She hesitated, fighting against a breakdown now. "I guess my father hid them there just before he died."
The breath left Danner as if he had been kicked in the stomach. A roaring beat against his ears and a sickness grew within him. He shook his head in protest, but he knew she was right. At last he had a full picture of what had happened, going all the way back to the Colonel's desperate need for money to fight off bankruptcy. The Colonel had been one of the few men who knew of the payroll shipment. And it had taken a thorough knowledge of the railroad to stage the robbery so smoothly.
Danner turned to the open window, placing both forearms against the sill and lowering his head in silent agony. He tried to blank out his tortured mind—but he could see the Colonel planning the robbery with the five Dooleys, taking care to lure Danner out of the way with the minor warehouse robbery the night before. He could see the Colonel waiting for the Dooleys after the robbery, taking the money and killing the brothers—but not before Ike Dooley squeezed off the shot that had later killed the Colonel. Danner closed his eyes tighter. Still he could see the Colonel with a bullet in his chest, leaving the empty pin-fire shells behind to point an accusing finger at Tuso. The Colonel must have known he was dying, but he didn't want the world to know he was a thief and a killer.
A tugging at his sleeve brought Danner back to reality. Melinda looked up into his eyes, sharing his misery, her own face wet with tears.
"Everyone respected the Colonel," she cried. "But you—and I—we loved him. How—"
She fell against him and he wrapped both arms around her, clutching her tightly. A blackness descended on him, erasing all conscious thought.
The office door opened sometime later and Wainright stuck his head inside. Danner hadn't even noticed his leaving. Corbin was gone also. Danner dropped his arms from around Melinda and she moved away from him, still dazed and grief-stricken.
"Someone saw Tuso in town earlier this morning," Wainright said.
Danner felt his shoulders stiffen. Involuntarily, his hand rubbed against the butt of his Colts. Then he looked down at Melinda.
"Stay here," he said. Then with long strides he crossed the room and the outer office. He jumped off the platform, but hadn't moved two steps when a triumphant voice reached out from behind him.
"Hold it, big man!"
"Tuso?"
"Who else, big man?" Tuso chuckled with delight. From the position of the voice, Danner figured Tuso was hiding under the station platform.
"You didn't think I'd hightail it without settling with you first, did you?"
An itch developed between Danner's shoulder blades. He fought against the temptation to whirl and draw. Tuso must have sensed his thoughts.
"Don't try it yet, big man. This six-gun of mine is all cocked and ready."
"We've been promising each other a shootout," Danner parried. "Is that why you are here?"
"Not quite," Tuso laughed. "No sense in taking a chance when I don't have to. In a minute you'll get tired of this gun pointed at your back. Then you'll turn and draw. I'll kill you, of course, but I'm going to do that anyway. The only question is, how far can you turn before my slug scatters your guts in the dust?" Then he laughed and Danner felt a sinking sensation. Tuso had him. In desperation he cast about for a way out. None came to him. It was like Tuso said. His only choice was to try to turn, draw and fire before Tuso could kill him. And that was a futile hope. He fought for time now.
"Browder died in the fire you set, runt. We killed the others."
"I know, big man. And it's just as well. He couldn't vanish like I can, not with all the weight he packed around.
"
"You're finished, too. Every bounty hunter in the country is out looking for you right now."
"Sure," Tuso replied, chuckling again. "But I hang tough."
"What about—"
"Come on, big man. Make your try. This gun is getting heavy, the sun is getting hot, and the townspeople are getting curious."
Several people were staring in their direction, but Danner knew he couldn't stall Tuso long enough for them to get curious enough to help him. Bleakly, he decided to start another statement, perhaps catching Tuso offguard, then make his play.
"One other thing, runt. How—" He dropped to a crouch as he spun around.
A shotgun blast sounded from the door of the office, and Tuso was hurled through the air to land face down in the dust. His great chest heaved mightily for a moment, then stilled. The pattern of the buckshot formed a crude circle in the back. Then Wainright stepped out on the platform, clutching the shotgun.
"Maybe that'll square things between us, so that we can start over from scratch."
Danner nodded mutely.
Then Wainright smiled. "And it looks like we've finally closed the Spaulding robbery case," he said. Melinda scrambled off the platform and ran toward Danner. Holstering his Colts, Danner looked up at Wainright quizzically.
"I don't quite follow you."
"Well," Wainright said, shrugging. "I guess Tuso has enough else to his credit to earn the blame for the Spaulding robbery. Certainly there's no reason to leave folks thinking you did it, nor is there any reason to blame it on the Colonel."
Danner nodded, looked at Tuso, then back to Wainright. "You and I should make a pretty good team, Tom."
Wainright smiled broadly. "We might, at that."
Then Danner reached out his arm and encircled the shoulders of Melinda, pulling her close.
"And you and I ought to make a pretty good team, too."
"We might, at that," she smiled back.
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Document ID: 5882e1d6-d624-4cad-817b-ac2a371e0b8b
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Document creation date: 21.5.2012
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