The Man from Yesterday

by Wayne D. Overholser

  Shelton was silent until Abel reached the hall door, then he laughed. It was the first time, Neal thought, that he had ever heard the man laugh, an odd sound that broke out of him suddenly and was gone as quickly as it came, leaving no lingering trace of humor on the man’s cruel mouth.

  “You’re a pair of fools, Clark,” Shelton said. “I know what you’re thinking. He’ll ride that horse downtown and get help. Or find a gun. Or get back into the house through a window and surprise me. All right, banker, you try it. If you do, there’s a woman and a kid upstairs who’ll die, but, if you do what I tell you, they won’t get hurt.” He nodded at Neal. “This is the bastard I want, not the woman or the kid or you, banker. Savvy that?”

  “I savvy,” Abel said.

  “I’ll give you fifteen minutes,” Shelton said. “You’d better be damned sure you’re back here by that time.”

  Abel left the room. When the door closed, Shelton said: “I reckon you caught up with Darley and his woman.”

  “On Horse Ridge,” Neal said. “Darley’s dead.”

  “Shoot himself?” Shelton asked.

  “No,” Neal said, and told him what had happened.

  Shelton shrugged. “Darley was the kind of man I needed in most ways, but he lacked guts. I’m surprised he forted up that way. He wouldn’t have if she hadn’t shot him and he figured you’d never fetch him back alive.” Shelton turned his head and spit in contempt at the fireplace. “Women! What damned good are they? It was Darley’s idea fetching her here. Now she shoots him ’cause she’s worried about you and your kid. I figured she was too smart to do a trick like that.”

  “Maybe she’s human,” Neal said.

  “Meaning I’m not? You’re right, but you made me what I am. You’re to blame, Clark. If your wife and kid get hurt, you’re to blame. For eight years I haven’t wanted to do anything but squeeze the hell out of your soul. I have, haven’t I?”

  “You know you have,” Neal said.

  Shelton sat down, the gun dangling between his legs. “This is just a beginning. Now you’re gonna know why. That’s important, Clark. I’ve lived tonight a million times in my mind, dreaming about how I’d be sitting here just like I am now and telling you what you done eight years ago. Listen to me, Clark. Listen damned good because you haven’t got long to listen to anything. If you’re thinking of that Twenty-Two in the pantry, you can quit. Or your Thirty-Eight that Abel had. I’ve got both of ’em.”

  Shelton was sitting so he could watch the stairs and Neal, but the hall at the head of the stairs was dark. Neal had been hoping Jane would get the .38 and shoot at Shelton. She wasn’t a very good shot, but it would give Neal a chance to try for his gun on the table. Now even that slender thread of hope was broken.

  “I’m listening,” Neal said.

  “You’ve been wondering if Ed Shelly was around here, haven’t you?” Shelton asked. “And you’ve wondered what I had to do with him. You and Rolfe scratched around trying to figure it out . . . the notes and Ruggles being here and who I was. The name Shelton’s purty close to Shelly, ain’t it?”

  Neal nodded. “I’m still listening.”

  “Well, when you shot the Shelly outfit, you made the biggest mistake a man ever made. My name is Tuck Shelly. When I came here, I called myself Shelton because it was close enough to Shelly to make you wonder, but you couldn’t prove nothing. I took the shot at you last night and missed on purpose. I hired Ruggles to come here and shoot you. Not bad. Just enough to lay you up so you’d be here when I wanted you. I missed on that. Ruggles wasn’t as good with his gun as he was supposed to be.”

  Neal sat with his hands fisted on his lap, knowing Shelton was purposely stringing this out to make him suffer, but not knowing how long he could stand it. “All right, all right,” he said. “Let’s have the story.” Funny, now that he thought back. Neither he nor Rolfe had seen the real significance in the names Shelly and Shelton.

  “I’ve dreamed about this for eight years,” Shelton said. “I don’t aim to hurry now. I’ve got to make a few hours do to you what all them years done to me. I’m Ed Shelly’s uncle. I was out there in the desert with my brother and his two boys. I was supposed to help on the hold-up, and, if I had, you wouldn’t be alive today, but, just before they hit the bank, I sprained my ankle, so Ed took my place.”

  He waggled a forefinger at Neal, his voice suddenly becoming high and shrill. “I didn’t have any kids of my own. I guess I never loved anybody in my life except Ed Shelly. He looked like me and acted like me. When he was little, I took care of him a hell of a lot more’n his dad ever done. Ed’s mother died when he was a baby.

  “He was just a kid when you killed him. He had no business coming to town, but they had to have someone to hold the horses. You hit him. By the time he got to camp, he’d bled bad. I helped him off his horse and watched him die. From your bullet, Clark.”

  He got up and walked to Neal. He slapped him with his left hand, the gun gripped in his right, then struck him on the other side of the face, rocking Neal’s head. He backed off, saliva running down his chin from his lips. He wiped a shirt sleeve across his mouth, and began to curse.

  “I can’t hurt you enough, Clark. Not half enough. I watched him die and I couldn’t even go for a doctor. I couldn’t do anything but watch him die, I tell you. He did, and I buried him. I sent that note from Salt Lake City so you’d know that sooner or later you’d get it. I spent my time since then thinking about what I’d do to you and who I’d get to help me. Darley was the best I could find.

  “Ever since I came here I’ve watched you. You lost your friends. We seen to that. I thought they’d hang you. They came purty close to stringing you up, too, but they didn’t, so I figured this was the next best. Get Rolfe chasing after Darley who had the money. Manion seeing ’em and telling Rolfe was luck. I hadn’t counted on that, but I figured somebody would come up and see the safe was cleaned out, and guess that Darley had the money.”

  Neal didn’t move, his hands clutched so tightly the knuckles were white. As he watched Shelton, he saw spit run down the man’s chin again. His eyes were wide and wild, and Neal knew that there was nothing he could say or do that would touch him.

  “Get up!” Shelton shouted. “By God, you’re gonna get on your feet and go upstairs with me. You’ll watch what I’m gonna do to your wife and kid.”

  “It’s me you want,” Neal reminded him. “You said it wasn’t Jane or Laurie.”

  Again Shelton wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Did I say that?” He laughed just as he had before, a laugh that was no real laugh at all. “What are words? Nothing, Clark. Nothing! Now get on your feet and start up them stairs.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Neal rose, knowing that Shelton had only one purpose, to torture him in every way he could. That had been his purpose in sending the threatening notes about Jane and Laurie; it was his reason for making them suffer now.

  “I’m not going,” Neal said. “Go ahead and shoot me. That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”

  “No!” Shelton shouted angrily. “I want to twist your guts around your heart till you’re dead. I won’t tell you again. Get up them stairs.”

  “I won’t go,” Neal said.

  This was something Shelton could not comprehend. He stood motionlessly, breathing hard. He cocked his gun, aiming it at Neal’s chest, then he lowered it and shook his head. “I ain’t letting you off that easy. We’ll wait till your banker gets back.”

  Shelton motioned for Neal to sit down again. For a time he eyed Neal, then he began to pace around the room. Watching him, Neal thought he understood. Shelton had spent eight years planning this, relishing in anticipation his revenge upon the man he hated. Now, having reached the end of the game, he didn’t know how to extract the greatest pleasure from his vengeance. Anticipation, Neal knew, gave more satisfaction than realization, and in that regard Shelton was perfectly normal.

  Neal’s gun was still on the table where he had placed it when
he’d first come into the room, not more than ten feet from where he sat. He could make a dive for it, maybe reach the table, then Shelton would cut him down. Probably not kill him. Maybe shoot him in the leg and let him bleed to death. It was a price Neal would pay if he could save Jane and Laurie, but what possible good would it do?

  No, Neal had to wait until he saw at least a slim chance of success. Henry Abel was outside. Suddenly Neal remembered the gun he had taken from Ruggles and tossed into a manger in the barn. But Abel wouldn’t know about it. If Neal had thought to tell him . . . had given him some kind of signal before he left the house . . .

  No good, Neal told himself. Henry Abel was not a man to get a gun and come back into the house and shoot Tuck Shelton. He wasn’t a man to run, either. He had too much loyalty for that. But for the moment he was outside and he might think of something. So Neal sat there, sweat pouring down his face, his belly muscles as tight as a drum.

  Shelton sat down, leaning forward a little, his gun still in his right hand. He remained motionless for several minutes, the clock on the mantel ticking off the seconds with slow monotony. The man’s eyes were riveted on him, but Neal wondered if Shelton was actually seeing him. A strange expression had taken the place of the wolfish eagerness on Shelton’s face. It seemed to Neal that Shelton was so lost in the past that the present had ceased to exist for him.

  Neal thought he had a chance now. He rose slowly, for a moment thinking that Shelton was in a sort of self-imposed hypnotic trance. But it was only wishful thinking. Shelton motioned with the gun, and Neal dropped back.

  “Sit down, Clark,” Shelton said. “I ain’t ready to kill you yet, but I will if you make me. I was thinking how it’s been with you . . . a big ranch and a bank. A purty wife and a kid you love and a fine house . . . everything I didn’t have.”

  He licked his lips, and leaned forward again in his chair. He began to talk fast, as if words could relieve the pent-up hatred that had festered in him so many years.

  “My brother Buck never thought much of me. I was a bad one by his lights. I was younger’n he was, and smarter. He didn’t know anything except to take what he wanted by force. His wife died when Ed was little. That’s why I raised him. Buck was so damned ornery he wouldn’t take care of his own kid, so Ed didn’t like him, but he did like me.

  “I tried to keep Ed from ever riding the Owlhoot. We kept him straight for a long time. Had him in school in Eugene. He didn’t even know what we were till he was about thirteen. Finally Buck said he was gonna make a man out of him or kill him trying. That’s what he done, with your bullet. I don’t care anything about you killing Buck. Or the other boy. They had it coming. Sooner or later I’d have done it if you hadn’t, but you made a mistake when you shot Ed.”

  Shelton got up and, walking to the table, picked up Neal’s gun and slipped it under his waistband, then came back and sat down. Neal didn’t understand why Shelton felt this need to talk, to explain to the man he was determined to kill, but he did realize something he hadn’t before. Much of Shelton’s brooding hatred had been fastened upon his brother, but Buck Shelly was dead, so he could not take his revenge on him. Only Neal.

  “I told you Ed was a lot like me,” Shelton went on. “I loved him. I never loved nobody else before or afterwards. I told you I watched him die, by inches, out there in a dirty dry camp in the desert, and I couldn’t do a damned thing. I couldn’t move him. I couldn’t leave him to go after a doctor. I didn’t have any decent grub for him. When he died, I died, too. You killed him. When you done that, you killed me, but you didn’t kill me dead. That was another mistake. You should have put a bullet into me.”

  The front door opened and closed. Abel was coming back. For a moment a wild hope was in Neal that Abel might have found Ruggles’s gun, that he’d come out of the hall with the gun blazing. Even if Abel died, Neal would have a chance to rush Shelton. That was all he could do, with his own gun now under Shelton’s waistband.

  But he knew at once he was like any drowning man reaching for a straw. Abel appeared in the doorway, pale and shivering from the cold or from fear. He said: “You rode that horse pretty hard, Neal, but I rubbed him down and I think he’ll be all right.”

  Shelton was on his feet, his gun on Neal. He motioned for Abel to sit down. When Abel had obeyed, Shelton said: “Now, Mister Clark, we’ll go upstairs. Ed was like my own son to me, so I’m going to kill your girl. I’ve got to, you see, to be fair.”

  Neal leaned back, hands gripping the arms of his chair. He said: “You’ll have to kill me here, Shelton. I told you I wouldn’t do it.”

  “I think you will. If you don’t, your banker gets it. First in the knees. Then both elbows. I won’t kill him. He’ll live, but he won’t be worth a damn for anything. How about it?”

  Neal looked at Abel, knowing he would have to do what Shelton wanted. He might have a chance while they were going up the stairs, or after they reached the hall. But he couldn’t sit here and see Henry Abel shot to pieces, and Shelton knew he couldn’t.

  “Tell him to go to hell, Neal,” Abel said. “He won’t touch Laurie if he can’t get you up there to watch it.”

  Shelton whirled on Abel, cursing him. Neal, looking at Abel, felt a rush of admiration for the little man who had called himself a coward, who had many times admitted he was thoroughly cowed by his wife, and who must have been through hell during these hours since Shelton had been in the house. Yet he had made this gesture, and Neal sensed he was right. Shelton probably wouldn’t harm Laurie unless Neal was there to watch.

  “Wait, Shelton,” Neal said. “You need some advice.”

  Shelton turned his gaze on Neal, his eyes wild again. He said: “By God, I don’t need any advice from you.”

  “Will you listen to me?” When Shelton was silent, Neal rushed on. “Darley had the money. If he’d got away, he’d have waited somewhere for you, wouldn’t he? You’d have split and then gone on, after you finished with me. That right?”

  Diverted for the moment, Shelton nodded. Neal hurried on: “This way, with Darley dead, and Santee and the sheriff bringing the money in, you’ll leave here broke. Well, it just occurred to me that you’re stupid to ride out that way as long as the bank’s safe is filled with cash.”

  Again Henry Abel did a surprising thing. He laughed, a good, deep laugh as if he actually saw some humor in this situation. He said: “Shelton, that would sure put the frosting on the cake for you, leaving here with your pockets full of Neal’s money. He’d die knowing you were going to have it easy the rest of your life and he was paying for it.”

  “That would be smart, wouldn’t it?” Shelton snarled. “Me walking down through town just as old man Rolfe showed up. Or some of these town bastards seeing me go into the bank with you.”

  “Rolfe and Santee won’t be back till sunup,” Neal said. “They’ve got Fay who won’t be able to ride fast, and they’re fetching in a dead man to boot. As for the town bastards, I guess you’ve fixed it so they wouldn’t believe anything good of me. If they caught us cleaning out the bank safe, they’d think it was my doing.”

  “They sure would,” Abel said. “They’d hang you and pat Shelton on the back probably figuring he was trying to protect the bank’s money.”

  This plainly appealed to Shelton. He scratched an ear thoughtfully, looking at Neal and then Abel, and Neal again. It wasn’t the money so much, Neal thought, but rather the fact that his revenge would be lengthened and sweetened. He didn’t want this to end or he’d have finished it before now. He was like a child with a piece of hard candy in his mouth, sucking it, trying to make it last as long as he could.

  “Got another horse in the barn?” Shelton asked finally.

  “Jane’s mare,” Neal answered. “She’s a good animal.”

  “A side-saddle?”

  “Jane rides one, but there’s another saddle in the barn we can use.”

  “How come you’re giving me advice?” Shelton asked. “Pretty good advice, too, seems to me.”<
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  “If you kill me now, it’s over with,” Neal said, “but if we clean the bank safe out and start across the desert, I’ll get you. I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way.”

  Shelton shook his head, a tight smile on his lips. “A man in your shape naturally looks for a miracle. You won’t find it, Clark. I’ve lived this too many times. I won’t let anything happen. The fact is, I’m way ahead of you. Now I’ll tell you what we will do.”

  Shelton paused, letting the seconds ribbon out. For a little while hope had been high in Neal. Once he got Shelton into the barn, he’d do something. He’d get hold of Ruggles’s gun. Or a pitchfork. Throw the lantern into Shelton’s face. Anything, he thought wildly. At least he’d have Shelton out of the house and Jane might escape with Laurie through the front door. But now, seeing the satisfaction in Shelton’s face, he felt the hope die.

  “We’ll go out to the barn and saddle the horses,” Shelton said. “Then we’ll go to the bank and you’ll open the safe. We’ll take the money and be out of town before sunup. I hid my tracks once from Joe Rolfe and I can do it again.” He nodded at Abel. “While Clark’s saddling up, you have Missus Clark dress the kid. She’s going with us. I’ll give you five minutes to get her to the barn. It’ll take Clark that long to saddle the horses. I’m toting the kid. If anything goes wrong, she gets it. Understand, both of you?”

  Abel nodded. Neal stood up, thinking dully that he should have foreseen this. Shelton had known all along that the best way to hurt Neal was through Laurie. Whatever Neal did, he must do it before Abel reached the barn with Laurie. After that he would be helpless.

  “Funny I didn’t think of this before,” Shelton said. “There’s been a lot of talk about the Barney Mountain lakes. Well, that’s where we’re going. I’m going to throw your kid into one of them lakes, Clark, and you’re going to watch.”

  Neal didn’t look at Abel as he walked toward the dining room. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even think, but he knew Shelton would do exactly what he had threatened. If Abel had sense enough to take Laurie and make a run for it through the front door . . .