“It means a lot,” Darley said. “I promised the local men that, if you invest the amount we’ve been discussing by mail, we’ll start work in the morning on the ditch. Clark here has done nothing but delay us from the day we came to town, and for no reason.”
“I’ve had plenty of reason,” Neal said. “Stacey, right now a survey crew that I hired is checking Darley and Shelton’s proposed ditch line. I’ll have a report in a day or two. All I want you to do is to wait until I get that report before you make any promises.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Darley screamed in a burst of infantile rage. “That’s all we’ve done for weeks, Mister Stacey. Well, Shelton and I are done waiting. If the people of this community will do nothing but fight progress . . .”
“Darley, I don’t understand this need for haste,” Stacey said sharply, “but, in any case, I refuse to be stampeded into anything. Who’s making your survey, Clark?”
“Commager,” Neal said. “From Prineville. Everybody in town knows him. Boys, I’ve got a proposition. If Commager’s report is favorable, the bank will loan every one of you the amount you’ve been asking for. Don’t tell me the company won’t need it if Stacey comes in. I never saw an irrigation project in my life that didn’t need more capital than the promoters thought when they started.”
“It’s a trick,” Tuttle said sullenly. “You won’t do it when the chips are down, Clark.”
“Come over to the bank, Tuttle,” Neal said. “We’ll make out the papers this morning, with the proviso that the money be deposited to your account if and when we get a favorable report from Commager.”
“That’s fair,” Stacey said. “I’m tired, Clark. I’ll see you after I get a drink and something to eat.”
“How about it, Tuttle?” Neal asked.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Tuttle muttered, and turned away.
Doc Santee caught up with Stacey. “You’re having dinner with me as soon as we get that free drink O’Hara promised.”
“It will be a pleasure,” Stacey said, and turned his head to call back: “Darley, fetch my valise!”
Neal, glancing at Darley’s face, saw the black fury that was in the man. Suddenly Darley stooped and picked up the valise and walked away. Neal looked at Shelton, realizing that those strange, opaque eyes had been pinned on him for some time. Shelton, he saw, showed no fury. Not even disappointment. But there was a strange attitude of eagerness about him as if he were waiting impatiently for something to happen.
It doesn’t make any difference to him, Neal thought. The money is all that matters to Darley, but Shelton’s got something else on his mind.
As Neal turned toward the bank, Rolfe caught up with him. “You stopped ’em dead, Neal. You sure did. I didn’t know Commager was out there on the job.”
“I figured it was a good idea to keep mum about it until I knew what his report was,” Neal said, “but, when Stacey got here, I had to speak my piece.”
“Everybody trusts Commager,” Rolfe said. “If his report is what you think it’ll be, you drove a nail right into the lid of Darley’s coffin. That means they’ll move out tonight with the money. If they do, I’ll nab ’em.”
“Holler if you need me,” Neal said, and Rolfe nodded as he turned away.
Now, in this moment of quiet, Neal thought of Laurie and Jane. Wheeling, he started up the street toward home. They were all right. They had to be. Tuck Shelton and Ben Darley were here where they couldn’t harm Laurie or Jane, and Ruggles was dead.
But Neal hadn’t been home for several hours. He had to see Laurie and Jane again, had to know they were all right, and suddenly the dam of self-control broke and he began to run.
Chapter Fifteen
When Neal reached his house, he found the front door locked. He searched his pockets, but discovered he had left the key inside. He yanked the bell pull, momentarily irritated until he remembered that Jane was following his order. He jerked the bell pull again, the need to see Jane and Laurie a driving urgency in him.
Jane unlocked the door and opened it.
Neal demanded: “Are you and Laurie all right?”
“Of course,” Jane answered. “Are you?”
“Sure,” he said, trying to match her matter-of-fact tone.
Laurie heard him and ran out of the parlor, screaming: “Daddy, Daddy!” He scooped her up into his arms and hugged her so tightly she cried: “You’re hurting me, Daddy!”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and put her down.
She ran into the parlor, apparently thinking of something she wanted to do. She was always running, Neal thought, always in a hurry to get some place faster than she could by walking. She was usually excited about something, too, her voice made high by it. If anything happened to her so she couldn’t run and couldn’t squeal . . . He looked at Jane and saw that she was close to crying. The same fear was in his wife’s mind, he thought.
He walked into the parlor, ashamed of the emotion that suddenly made him weak. There was no reason to be, he thought. It was just that he had never been one to show his feelings, not even when he’d been a boy. He often wished he weren’t the way he was, that he could talk to Jane with the sweetness and tenderness he knew she needed, but it was hard for him. When he did, it was forced, lacking the spontaneity it should have had.
Laurie ran upstairs for something. Neal got out his handkerchief and blew his nose, his back to Jane. He couldn’t remember feeling this way before, a dull ache in his chest and an all-gone emptiness in his belly. Reaction from killing Ruggles, he thought. Or from relief, knowing now that Laurie and Jane were all right.
Well, they were going to stay all right. He wouldn’t leave the house until Darley and Shelton were in jail. They were whipped. He was sure of that. They’d make their run tonight and Rolfe would arrest them, and the greedy hardheads like Tuttle and Sailor and O’Hara would find out what Darley and Shelton had intended to do all the time.
“Neal.”
He turned. Jane stood just inside the hall doorway. He saw that she had been crying, and he asked: “What’s the matter?”
“You don’t know?” she asked. “Neal, don’t you know?”
She put her arms around him and he held her close. He touched her hair, saying as lightly as he could: “I don’t have the foggiest notion. I’m the one who’s been worrying.”
She was angry then and stepped back, her face showing her resentment. “Don’t you give me any credit for feelings? I heard those shots a while ago. I thought that Shelton and Darley were trying to kill you. Or that O’Hara and Quinn and Olly Earl. . .”
“So you’ve heard that talk. Some of our gossipy neighbors. . .” He stopped. No use to vent his anger on Jane. He moved to her and took her hands. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t been thinking very straight lately. But it wasn’t anything like that. It was this fellow Ruggles who’s been hanging around. Shelton was behind it, I suppose. Anyhow, it didn’t work. I got him.”
Resentment fled from her face. “You mean he tried to kill you?”
“Yeah, he tried. It was just before the stage got in. I was standing in front of the bank, waiting like everybody else, and he comes out of O’Hara’s bar and jumps me.”
“Where was Joe Rolfe?”
“He was there.”
“Couldn’t he stop it?”
She should have known better than to ask a question like that. Short-tempered again, he said: “Joe didn’t try.”
She whirled, her skirt billowing out from her slim ankles. She said—“Oh, you men!”—and started toward the kitchen.
“Dinner ready?” he asked.
“No, it isn’t,” she flung over her shoulder, and disappeared into the dining room.
Neal rolled and lighted a cigarette, realizing he shouldn’t be irritated, that he shouldn’t have spoken so brusquely to Jane. It was only natural that her nerves should be frayed, just as his were.
He couldn’t relax, even now that he was here in his own parlor, knowing that no harm had
come to Laurie and Jane. He took a long pull on his cigarette and let the smoke out slowly, then dropped into a rocking chair, his legs stretched in front of him.
Laurie came downstairs and wandered aimlessly into the kitchen. Neal smoked another cigarette, restlessness gathering in him again. He wasn’t sure he could stay here all afternoon. Maybe he didn’t need to. Darley or Shelton wouldn’t try anything during the day. Maybe they hadn’t been sending the notes. It might have been Ruggles, and, if that was true, the danger to Jane and Laurie was past.
He heard Laurie’s shrill voice begging her mother to let her go outside to play, and he heard Jane say in a cranky tone to quit asking. She had to stay inside. This trouble was costing all of them, he thought, and he had been stupid in not realizing that Jane was paying the same price he was.
He tossed his cigarette stub into the fireplace and walked into the kitchen. Laurie was sitting on a chair sulking, her feet kicking the legs. Neal said: “That’s not a pretty face you’ve got today.”
Laurie stuck out her tongue at him. Thoroughly exasperated, Jane went into the pantry and came back with a stick. “I haven’t had to use this on you for quite a while, young lady, but . . .”
“Wait.” Neal put an arm in front of his wife. “Laurie, you go up to your room and don’t come back until you’ve got a pretty face.” He winked at Jane. “Like your mama’s.”
Laurie got up and left the kitchen. Not running this time, but trudging as if she were the most put-upon girl in town. Neither Neal nor Jane said anything until she was out of sight and they heard her on the stairs, then Jane said: “A pretty face like mama’s! Now isn’t that a great thing to tell your daughter?”
Neal laughed, a sudden breaking of the tension that had kept his nerves tied up for hours. He kissed Jane on the tip of her nose. “It’s the prettiest face I ever saw. Now what about dinner?”
She laughed, too, a shaky laugh but still a laugh. “Thank you for the grand compliment. I’ll get dinner started right away. I forgot you didn’t have any breakfast.” She went into the pantry, calling back: “Now I want to know what happened this morning! Everything. I’m getting tired of being treated like I was Laurie’s age.”
He told her, leaving out Fay Darley’s visit and what Ruggles had said in O’Hara’s bar. She’d hear someday, but maybe not until this was over.
When he was done, she said: “Then we still don’t know who sent the notes or shot at you or whether there really is an Ed Shelly.”
“No, but it was probably Ruggles who shot at me. Maybe the whole thing was just to make me run, or stay here in the house. Anyhow, Joe will pick them up tonight.”
She stood in front of the stove, looking at him. “You really think it’s over?”
“It will be as soon as Darley and Shelton clean out their safe and leave town.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. We don’t know who sent the notes or what the purpose behind them was. We can’t draw a good breath until we know the answers to both questions.”
He rose, the good feeling of relief gone that had been in him a short time. Jane was right. He walked back into the parlor, remembering how Shelton had acted this morning. A killer, Fay Darley had called him. A half-crazy one, too, if Neal’s judgment of the man was correct. No, Jane was right. Nothing would be settled until Shelton and Darley were locked up in jail.
The doorbell startled him. He walked into the hall, drawing his gun before he opened the door. He was surprised to see Henry Abel standing there because it was two hours until closing time, and Abel wasn’t a man to go off and leave the bank.
“Come in, Henry,” Neal said. “I didn’t expect . . .”
“No, of course you wouldn’t.” Abel slipped in quickly as if afraid to remain outside. “I locked the bank up and put a sign outside that it would be closed until morning. Have you got a gun? Another one, I mean?”
Puzzled, Neal said: “You’re not much of a hand with a gun.”
“No, but I can try. I can’t stay in the bank. Ed Shelly saw his father and brother shot in front of the bank, and, if he really is around here somewhere, he’ll try again. I’ve got a hunch.” He swallowed. “Now don’t go off half-cocked. I’m saving you and me both a lot of trouble by locking the bank up in case O’Hara and Quinn and the rest of them get a notion they can force you to make the loans they want. The proposition is Darley doesn’t want to wait for Commager’s report.”
Neal motioned for Abel to go into the parlor. “What do you want with a gun?”
“One gun isn’t as good as two,” Abel said as he walked into the parlor. “Three’s still better. Jane shoots pretty well, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she’s a good shot.” Neal walked to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel, looking at Abel. The man was pale and trembling, thoroughly frightened, and Neal had no idea what had brought it on. “Henry, what’s the matter?”
“Maybe nothing,” Abel said, “but Stacey has talked to Joe Rolfe and Doc Santee, and he told Darley he wouldn’t make any decision until he had that report you told him about.” Abel swallowed. “Darley almost went crazy. He told O’Hara and Quinn and that whole bunch that you’d killed the project. They’ll try to lynch you, Neal. They’re blaming you for everything.”
“You think they’ll come up here?”
“Sure they will. I came here to help you fight.”
Neal thought about it a minute, knowing that what Abel said was a definite possibility. Stacey’s decision would bring this to a head, and with O’Hara setting up the drinks. . . Neal rubbed his face, wondering how he could ever have felt they were out of the woods.
“There’s a Thirty-Eight upstairs on the bureau,” Neal said, “and a Twenty-Two pistol in the pantry. It’s on the top shelf to keep it out of Laurie’s reach. If they want a fight, Henry, they’ll get it.”
“Good,” Abel said.
Jane came into the parlor. “Hello, Henry,” she said. “I didn’t know you were here. Dinner’s ready. I’ll put another plate on the table.”
“I’m not hungry, Jane,” Abel said. “I’ll just have a cup of coffee.”
“Whatever you say, but there’s plenty.” She called Laurie, who came down the stairs slowly, still sulking. “You hungry?”
“No,” the child said, then she saw Abel and ran to him. “Henry, they won’t let me go outside and play. You tell them it isn’t too cold.”
He picked her up and carried her into the dining room. “It’s pretty cold, Laurie. I just came in. My teeth are chattering.” He snapped his teeth together. “See?”
She giggled. “You’re fooling.”
“No, it’s cold,” Abel said.
He put her down and she crawled into her chair. “I’ll eat,” she said, “but I’m not hungry.”
“All right,” Jane said. “We don’t care if you’re hungry or not as long as you eat.”
No one talked while they ate except Laurie who was over her sulks and chattered incessantly. They had barely finished when the doorbell rang.
Neal glanced at Abel as he rose. “I’ll see who it is,” he said, and left the kitchen, wondering if Abel’s fears had been realized.
His gun was in his hand when he opened the door. Joe Rolfe stood there. Doc Santee was in the street forking his black gelding, his Winchester in the boot. The sheriff’s horse stood beside the gelding.
Neal replaced his gun, relieved again, and he thought how often this had happened. Every time he had thought their trouble was over, he had soon found it wasn’t.
“I didn’t expect you,” Neal said. “Henry came a while ago and said Darley was trying to work up a mob.”
Rolfe’s lined face was bitter. “He tried, and for about an hour I thought he’d make it, but there’s a little horse sense left in people. Saddle Redman up, Neal. We ain’t got much time. After Darley seen he’d lost out all around, he and Shelton cleaned the safe out and pulled out with the money.”
“Then everybody knows?”
“Some of
’em do, and the rest will hear soon enough.”
Abel had followed Neal and had heard. He said: “Neal, let me ride Jane’s mare. I’ll go with you.”
“No, you stay here with Jane and Laurie,” Rolfe said. “I ain’t real sure what happened, not sure enough to leave Neal’s womenfolk alone in the house. I’m glad you’re here, Henry.”
“If there’s any chance those bastards are still in town,” Neal said, “I’m not going.”
Rolfe jerked his head at Neal. “Come on, I’ll help you saddle up.”
They walked around the house to the barn, Neal saying stubbornly: “Joe, I’ve been through hell worrying about what was going to happen to my family. I tell you . . .”
“They ain’t around,” Rolfe broke in. “I didn’t want Henry going with us. I found out years ago that a small posse of men I can count on is a hell of a lot better’n a big one of men I ain’t sure about. I ain’t sure about Henry. Sometimes I think he ain’t got no guts at all.”
“He doesn’t have as far as his wife’s concerned,” Neal said, “but I think he’d be all right on something like this.”
“Well, he’s not used to riding,” Rolfe said. “He’s better off here. Go ahead and saddle your horse and I’ll tell you what happened. It’s like I said this morning. I figured they’d make their run tonight, so I wasn’t paying no attention to ’em. Fact is, I didn’t even know they’d left town until Jud Manion rode in a while ago. He’d been over to Prineville trying to borrow some money, and he seen Darley and Shelton riding toward the desert, hell for leather. Jud started toward ’em, and one of ’em took a shot at him. He got sore, as any man would, so he told me soon as he got to town.”
Embarrassed, Rolfe cleared his throat. “I should have been watching, but I wasn’t. I hiked up to their office, and, by God, that safe was open and clean as a hound’s tooth. Nobody there. When I started asking questions, nobody had even seen ’em lately.”
“Stacey?”
“Stacey hadn’t, neither. I went to the livery stable. Shelton had taken their horses, saying they was heading out to Barney Lakes to see your survey crew. It would have made sense if I hadn’t seen the empty safe.”
The Man from Yesterday Page 11
