Lawman without a Gun

by Clive Dawson

  Changing the subject, Frank asked, ‘Does this man Bellamy have any other close friends in town?’

  The sheriff finished his drink and poured more whiskey into his glass. ‘You’re askin’ a whole heap o’ questions for a man who’s just ridden in.’ A new thought seemed to enter his mind. ‘You’re not a federal marshal, are you?’

  Frank considered how much it was safe to tell him. Finally, he said. ‘I used to be one but I finished with it.’

  ‘So I was right. Somethin’ happened to make you change your mind?’

  ‘You could say that, I guess.’

  ‘Well, I ain’t one for pryin’ into a man’s private affairs. All I can say is, watch your back while you’re in Condor. As for your question about Curt Bellamy – don’t be fooled by his looks. He’s as much of a snake as those outlaws in the hills. He’s probably the most powerful man in town and that means he’s got a lot o’ friends.’

  ‘That’s what I suspected.’ Frank finished his drink and set the empty glass on the bar. ‘Thanks for the information, Sheriff. I appreciate it.’

  By the time Frank stepped out of the saloon, it was completely dark. The only light in the street was that which flooded through the doors and windows of the saloons. Somewhere a woman was singing to the accompaniment of an old piano. It was a mournful song, fitting Frank’s mood exactly.

  He didn’t feel like returning to the hotel and turning in so early in the evening. There was now a restless feeling inside him which he had hoped to have shaken off long ago. Perhaps what had happened in Dodge City had been nothing more than a tragic accident.

  Acting on impulse, he made his way along the street to the livery stables where he found Old Ben seated in his chair near the door.

  The oldster had a pipe going and gave a nod as he recognized Frank. ‘Heard you’d had a run-in with some drygulcher along the trail,’ he said by way of greeting.

  ‘How the hell did you know about that?’

  The other man struck a match and sucked noisily on the pipe until he got it going to his satisfaction. Speaking through the cloud of smoke he said, ‘There ain’t much in this town that I don’t get to hear about. Somebody in Condor wants you dead, Marshal.’

  Harshly, Frank said, ‘Don’t call me that. I’m no longer a lawman.’

  ‘Don’t worry, there ain’t anyone around here to listen to what we’re sayin’. I don’t know what it was that made you throw in everything and shuck your guns, but was it worth dyin’ for? I’m just tellin’ you this because that’s what will happen if you don’t start wearin’ them again. Take my word for it.’

  ‘I know you mean well, friend, but there are some things you wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Nope, I guess not.’ Ben bent and tapped his pipe against his heel. ‘Men often ride strange trails in their lives. Sometimes they know why they do it, more often they don’t.’

  Frank glanced back along the street. A few more riders came in and tethered their mounts outside the saloons. Then McDonald came out, glanced in both directions before walking back to his office. No sooner had he gone in than Hawkins appeared, emerging from a narrow alley on the opposite side.

  There was something furtive about the deputy’s movements which instantly alerted Frank. The groom made to say something more, but Frank waved him to silence. Getting up from his chair, the old man moved forward silently to stand beside him.

  ‘You see somethin’?’ the oldster asked, in a low, wheezing voice.

  ‘That deputy, Hawkins. He seems to be actin’ mighty suspicious. He came out o’ yon alley as if he’d been waitin’ there until the sheriff went back.’

  Drawing back into the shadows, Frank continued to watch. Hawkins had paused to light a cigarette. Now, hitching his gunbelt a little higher about his waist, he made his way over to the bank. Knocking a couple of times, he waited, clearly ill at ease.

  When the door opened, he slipped inside.

  ‘Seems to me there’s something mighty important goin’ on between those two,’ the hostler muttered.

  ‘That’s just what I was thinkin’. It ain’t usual to conduct bank business at night. I’d sure like to know what it is.’

  ‘Could be there’s a way to find out if you’re willin’ to take the chance.’

  Before Frank could ask any questions, Ben caught him by the arm, and led him into a narrow, refuse-filled alley running alongside the stables. At the far end, they came onto an open stretch of ground which ran along the rear of the buildings on this side of the street.

  Working their way along them, they stopped at the rear of the bank. Here, Ben pointed. ‘We can get in that way if you’re willin’ to try.’

  The door which faced them was stout with a heavy lock. ‘How the hell do you figure we can get in there?’ Frank asked in a low whisper.

  Without a further word, Ben stepped forward. Taking something from his pocket, he bent and inserted the tip of the thin-bladed knife into the lock. A few moments later, there was a faint click and the lock sprang open.

  Staring down at him, Frank muttered, ‘Where did you learn to do that?’

  Ben Sheldon grinned. ‘You’d be surprised at some o’ the things I’ve picked up in my life.’

  Pushing open the door, he went inside with Frank following close on his heels. The room was obviously a store of some kind, filled with wooden boxes. In the dimness, Frank made out the door at the far side.

  Cautiously, taking care where he placed his feet, he moved towards it, his fingers around the handle. Then, sucking in a deep breath, he opened it slightly. There was light beyond it and staring through the narrow gap, he made out the two figures; Bellamy seated in his chair with his back to him and Hawkins standing in front of him.

  The lamp on the desk threw everything into light and shadow. Hawkins had one hand flat on the desk and a glass of whiskey in the other. Lifting the glass, he said harshly, ‘After tonight I can promise you there’ll be no further trouble in Condor.’

  ‘You’d better be right about that,’ Bellamy answered. ‘You’re sure you can pull it off just as we planned?’

  A wolfish grin twisted the deputy’s coarse features. ‘Just you keep to your part o’ the bargain and I’ll keep to mine. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about.’

  Frank could see nothing of the banker’s face but he noticed that Bellamy’s hand was shaking a little as he lifted the bottle and poured more drink into his glass.

  ‘I can’t help worryin’, Hawkins. If anythin’ goes wrong and it comes back to me, it’ll mean the rope for both of us. My superiors back East are already askin’ awkward questions about these stage hold-ups, wantin’ to know why those responsible for ’em haven’t been caught and brought to justice.’

  Hawkins tossed down half of his drink. ‘So they’re askin’ questions. What of it? There’s nothin’ to tie you in with ’em. You’re takin’ no risks. That’s why I figure I deserve a bigger share.’

  Bellamy seemed to be debating that proposition. Finally, he thrust himself forward in his chair, meeting Hawkins’s gaze squarely. ‘You know the deal we made, Hawkins. We stick by it. Don’t forget, he ain’t dead yet and it might not be as easy as you think. If he’s dead by mornin’, I might reconsider. Don’t forget that I’ve got a lot o’ influential men on my side in this town.’

  A gust of anger flashed across the deputy’s features. For an instant, his right hand hovered dangerously close to the gun at his waist. Then he forced himself under tight control. ‘I ain’t forgettin’ it, Bellamy.’

  Turning sharply on his heel, he strode towards the street door, slamming it behind him.

  Frank motioned to Ben Sheldon, indicating that he had seen and heard enough. Moving as silently as cats, they left the storeroom. Deftly, the hostler slipped the lock back into place and closed it with a faint snap.

  There was no conversation until they were back at the livery stables. Then Sheldon said hoarsely, ‘What in tarnation are those two planning, Frank?’

  ‘You he
ar what they said?’

  ‘I heard enough to know that somebody is goin’ to get themselves killed tonight and I reckon I can figure out who it is.’ He stared meaningfully at Frank.

  ‘If Hawkins reckons he’s goin’ to kill me, he might find it more difficult than he thinks. Forewarned is forearmed, old-timer.’

  ‘Mebbe so, but don’t underestimate him. That man is a born killer. He only got that job as deputy on Bellamy’s say-so. I was at the Town Committee meetin’ when he was elected. Bellamy railroaded the rest o’ the men into votin’ for him.’

  Stuffing strands of tobacco into his pipe, he lit it, and puffed furiously on it. ‘Why in tarnation are you so stubborn, Frank? Now you know Hawkins means to kill you. Unless you get some guns, he’ll do it. Goddamnit, man! Are you so blind you can’t see sense?’

  ‘He’s got to find me first,’ Frank replied.

  Sheldon uttered a snort of derision. ‘Find you? He knows this town like the back of his hand. You know nothin’ of it. If you go back to the hotel, there’ll be a couple o’ shots through that window when you ain’t expectin’ it. Believe me, I’ve seen it happen before.’

  ‘You worry too much, old-timer.’

  Shrugging, Sheldon muttered, ‘Seems to me I’m the only one with sense around here.’

  Saying nothing, Frank moved out into the street. The last of the stragglers were now leaving the saloons, picking up their mounts, and leaving town. He stood there watching the dust settle.

  There was no sign of Hawkins. The deputy had melted into the shadows, into one of the numerous alleys radiating from the main street. Inwardly, he knew that everything Sheldon said was true. Apart from the main street, he knew nothing of Condor. There were plenty of places where Hawkins could hide and get the drop on him without warning.

  It was just possible Hawkins was lying in wait, ready to plug him before he got back to the hotel. Keeping into the shadows, he made his way slowly along the fronts of the now-darkened saloons, every sense alert, his keen gaze probing every alley he passed, watching for the slightest movement.

  He could feel the tension mounting inside him with every passing second. There was an itch between his shoulder blades, a warning sign he had learned from past experience not to ignore.

  Reaching the bank he paused. The place was in total darkness although he had seen no sign of Bellamy leaving. Then a sudden movement at the far end of the street brought him instantly alert. Pushing his shoulders hard against the wall, he saw the figure emerge from the sheriff’s office, then he relaxed a little as he recognized McDonald.

  Evidently the sheriff was beginning his nightly rounds of the town. He made to move forward, then stiffened abruptly as the racketing sound of a gunshot echoed along the street. He saw McDonald sway as the bullet took him in the chest, driving him to his knees.

  The sheriff hung there for a moment, his hand struggling to reach his Colt. Before Frank could move, he fell forward onto his face and lay still. Running forward, he bent and turned him over. A faint rattle came from McDonald’s throat and then his head went back, eyes staring sightlessly into the darkness.

  For a moment, Frank found himself unable to move. Only one thought hammered incessantly through his mind: that shot had come from the window of his room in the hotel!

  CHAPTER IV

  GUN TRIAL

  Instant reflexes took over. Within seconds, Frank was on his feet and racing for the hotel. Rushing into the lobby, he noticed that there was no one behind the desk. Taking the stairs two at a time, he ran along the narrow corridor at the top.

  As he had suspected, the door of his room was open. Cautiously, he stood to one side, then kicked the door in with his foot. Even in the darkness, it was clear there was no one there. Whoever had killed McDonald, he must have escaped through the rear door.

  Swiftly, he went to the window and looked out. A small crowd had gathered around McDonald’s body. A couple of seconds later, Hawkins came running along the street. He said something to one of the men and then glanced up.

  Three of the onlookers were pointing towards the window. A moment later, led by the deputy, they came quickly across the street towards the hotel entrance. Before Frank could reach the door they were pounding up the stairs.

  Hawkins pushed his way through them. He had a Colt in his hand, levelling it on Frank’s chest. ‘Just stay right where you are, mister.’ His tone held a snarling edge. ‘I had you figured for a low-down killer when you first rode in. McDonald said you were all right and now he’s paid for that mistake with his life.’

  Frank forced himself to speak evenly. ‘You know I didn’t kill him, Hawkins.’ Inwardly, he cursed himself for his stupidity. That conversation he had overhead in the bank; it had not been him they were planning to kill, but the sheriff, setting him up so that he could be framed for the murder.

  ‘It couldn’t have been anyone else,’ one of the men said viciously. ‘That shot came from this window. This is your room, ain’t it?’

  ‘It’s my room. But I reckon all o’ you know I don’t carry a weapon.’

  ‘That don’t mean you ain’t got one.’ Hawkins motioned to two of the men. ‘Search this place, men. We’ll soon find out if he’s tellin’ the truth.’

  One of the men pulled out all of the drawers in the small cabinet by the bed, emptying them onto the floor. He shook his head. ‘Nothin’ here, Deputy,’ he grunted.

  The second man moved over to the bed and heaved the mattress aside. Bending, he picked up something. ‘What have we got here.’ There was a note of satisfaction in his tone as he brought out the gun which had been hidden there. Sniffing the barrel and examining the chambers he said, ‘One shot’s been fired. Recently too.’

  ‘That ain’t my gun,’ Frank declared vehemently. ‘That’s been put there by the killer.’

  ‘Sure it has.’ Hawkins stepped up to him, a grin on his thin lips. ‘And I reckon we’ve got him. Bring him to the jail. I’ll see that he’s locked up.’

  ‘I say we string him up right now,’ muttered one of the watching men. ‘Ain’t no sense waitin’ for a trial. We got him dead to rights.’

  For a moment, the look in Hawkins’s eyes told Frank that he intended to go along with these townsfolk. Then he shook his head. ‘Nope. We’ll do this accordin’ to the law. I reckon that’s how the sheriff would have wanted it doing. It won’t be long before the circuit judge gets here once he receives word o’ this. Then we’ll hang him, all proper and legal.’

  The man nearest the door gave a nod. ‘Mebbe you’re right, Hawkins. From what I know, the sheriff and Judge Ivers were good friends. Reckon he’ll like to come face to face with the coyote who shot McDonald in the back.’

  Five minutes later, Frank was in the street, heading towards the jail with Hawkins’s gun prodding him in the back. More of the townsfolk had gathered and there were several angry shouts among them. Pausing on the boardwalk, Hawkins yelled, ‘We’ve got the no-good snake who killed McDonald.’

  After a moment’s silence, he added, ‘Right now, I’m locking him up. I don’t want any o’ you folk getting’ funny ideas about a lynchin’ party. He’ll stand trial in front o’ Judge Ivers. I’ll get word to him first thing in the mornin’. Somehow, I don’t reckon we’ll have to wait long before he arrives in Condor.’

  Standing helplessly in front of the deputy, Frank ran his gaze over the watching crowd. Right at the back, he picked out the diminutive figure of Ben Sheldon. A moment later, the hostler detached himself from the others and sidled back along the street.

  From the attitude of the crowd, he guessed the hostler was the only one there, apart from the killer, who knew he was innocent. But even knowing that, he doubted if there was anything Sheldon could do to help him. He had walked into this trap with his eyes shut and now he had to suffer the consequences.

  Turning, Hawkins gestured him inside, closing the door behind him. Taking a bunch of large keys from the wooden rack on the wall, he thrust Frank along a short passage. Pull
ing open the door of one of the cells, he pushed him inside, closing and locking the door.

  ‘Reckon you’re a fool if you think you can get away with this, Hawkins,’ he said, forcing evenness into his voice. ‘Both you and me know who the real killer is.’

  ‘Sure we do,’ the deputy said viciously. ‘I’m lookin’ at him.’

  ‘And you think that Bellamy will stand by you when the chips are down? He’ll see to it that you end up the same way as McDonald.’

  He saw from the expression on the deputy’s face that his words had struck home. ‘You seem to know a lot more than is good for you, Kelsey. Reckon you should be taught a lesson before you open your mouth too much.’

  Unlocking the door, he took his gun from its holster and swung it in a short arc. The butt struck Frank just behind the left ear where the slug had hit him earlier. The blow was hard but not sufficient to render him unconscious.

  Dropping to his knees, he clawed at the side of the low bunk to prevent himself from falling onto his face. Still grinning, Hawkins drew back his foot. The heavy boot caught Frank in the ribs sending lances of white-hot agony through his chest.

  ‘You need to know who’s in charge round here now that McDonald’s gone.’ The boot came in again, hitting him in the small of the back. Still Frank did not black out. ‘That nosy sheriff was getting’ a bit too conscientious for my liking. With you out o’ the way as well, things are goin’ to be just as they were.’

  Blood was now running down the side of Frank’s face where the gun butt had re-opened the wound on his head. It oozed into his eyes, making it difficult for him to see properly. For a moment, he thought Hawkins meant to go on kicking him but with an obvious effort, the other managed to control his temper.