He said: ‘You know you may be in some danger with the Kid here.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll give you all the protection I can. But I don’t have many men.’
Knuckles rapped on the street door. The woman started.
‘That’ll be Ben,’ Spur said and walked through the shop. He saw the Negro through the glass of the door and opened it. He led the way back into the rear room and said to Millicent; ‘Ben here will stay with you. Nobody’ll get past him take my word on it. You sleep now, he’ll watch the boy.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘I won’t sleep now. The boy will need me. You go, I’ll be all right’
Spur said: ‘I’ll have somebody to relieve you in the mornin’.’
He took a look at the Kid, felt his pulse and found it a little firmer. He then walked through the shop followed by Ben who drove the bolt home after him. He walked down the street to the sheriff’s office and pounded on the door, telling Student to let him in. The deputy opened up, he entered and the bar was dropped behind him. Spur crossed the office, opened the heavy door to the little cell block and found a lamp burning on the floor there.
The prisoner was lying on a bed in the first cell. When Spur looked in on him, he sat up.
Spur told Student: ‘Open her up.’
Keys rattled, the barred door swung open. Spur told Student to lock him in with the prisoner. The deputy obeyed. ‘Now go take a nap,’ Spur said. ‘You don’t hear a thing from here on.’ Student grinned a little, went into the office and shut the door behind him.
The prisoner said: ‘What the hell is this?’
Spur said: ‘You’re goin’ to talk. You think you ain’t because you’re more scared of Beddoe and Blaxall than you are of me. I aim to show you different if I have to light a fire under you.’
The man looked apprehensive.
‘I got my rights as a citizen,’ he said.
Spur smiled.
‘In my book,’ he said, ‘you don’t rank as one. I’m goin’ to give you one hour to tell me every thin’ you know. Every damn word’ll be checked. So it better be true.’
The man said: ‘If the lawyers find a mark on me it’ll be more’n your job’s worth.’
‘The verdict will be “killed while tryin’ to escape”.’
‘You daren’t.’
‘Boy,’ said Spur, ‘when I think of Blaxall usin’ Smith you’d best believe I dare anythin’. Now, talk or you’re goin’ to be found lookin’ like Mart Walker.’
The man looked sick.
Spur leaned forward and said softly into the man’s face: ‘Just remember: I ain’t a respectable United States Marshal. The name’s Sam Spur. You heard about me?’
The man swallowed.
‘They’ll kill me,’ he said.
‘They’ll kill you quick,’ said Spur. ‘I’ll kill you slow. Take your choice,’
Chapter Eleven
An hour later.
Spur rattled a tin mug on the bars of the cell and Mike Student came with the keys.
‘Let me out,’ Spur said. Student obliged. Spur stepped out. The deputy looked at the prisoner and was amazed that he couldn’t see a mark on him.
‘Did he talk?’ Student asked.
‘He did,’ Spur said. The deputy was amazed. The prisoner was looking at him in a stupefied manner as if he had been mesmerized.
‘How’d you do it?’
‘Just part of my natural charm,’ Spur said and walked into the office. When Student joined him he took a look at the marshal and saw that he looked tired to the bone.
‘You’d best git some sleep,’ he said. ‘You look all in.’
‘All in good time, Spur said. ‘Remember, nobody gets in but me and Ben. Anybody tries to pressure you, tell ’em those’re my orders.’
Student let him out onto the street. He crossed town, not unaware that danger could lurk in every dark shadow. He made his way to Clance Damyon’s freight yard and found it in total darkness. He rapped on the door to Damyon’s cabin. After a few moments a voice growled: ‘Who the hell is this?’
‘Sam Spur.’
Two bolts were drawn and the door swung open.
‘What do you want this time of night, Spur?’
‘Sorry to wake you? Can we talk?’
‘Come on in.’
Spur stepped inside and Damyon bolted the door. Spur stood in total darkness for a moment, wondering if he had made a mistake. Then a match flared and the freighter lit a lamp. He squinted at Spur in the sudden brightness.
‘You hear the gunfire on this side of town?’
‘Some. I heard some of the story from the Mexicans. You have a wounded man down at Millie Prayboy’s and a wounded prisoner in the jail. News travels fast in this burg.’
‘You had any more offers for your business?’
‘Yep. An’ I accepted one this afternoon. I move outa here tomorrow. Looks like I’m really beat this time.’
‘Not quite,’ said Spur. ‘I want a deputy.’
The one eye opened wide.
‘A one-eyed, one-armed man? You must be outa your head.’
‘I want a man I can trust.’
‘Crazy and a flatterer,’ said Damyon.
‘Who bought your business?’
‘Linden Travers, the mayor.’
My God, Spur thought. Not the mayor as well.
‘How’d you like to spend the night at Millicent Prayboy’s?’
Damyon grinned and said: ‘That’s been my ambition for many a long day.’
‘You’re fully sworn in. Get down there with a gun and pocketful of shells.’
‘Officially what am I there for?’
‘To guard Milly and the boy.’
Damyon frowned, puzzled. ‘Who’d want to hurt Milly?’
‘You ask too many questions. But I’ll tell you. Blaxall.
The freighter looked amazed.
‘You mean?’
‘Far as I can see, he’s behind every damn thing in sight.’
Twenty minutes later, Damyon was installed in Miss Prayboy’s house, armed and willing. Miss Prayboy seemed to approve of him as a man, eyeless and armless though he might be. Damyon showed he highly approved of his hostess. Spur hoped he could trust the man. His hunch said he could. He told Ben to stay put and sleep till dawn.
‘What I do come dawn?’ the Negro demanded.
‘Sniff out a trail. It won’t be easy. Maybe Smith headed for the hills after the fight last night. I have a feelin’ he’s still around. Just check what direction he went in.’
Ben said: ‘There’ll be a mess of sign out there.’
‘I know, but make a try. Look out for yourself. You’re liable to get a knife in your guts.
Spur hit the street again. He found a late night drunk who wasn’t too drunk and asked him to show him where Trask was living. The man showed him the place, a small shack on the edge of town. Spur gave the man a dollar to drink himself insensible and knocked Trask up.
Trask didn’t seem surprised to see him. He asked him in and lit a lamp. Spur looked around and saw the man didn’t have much of a place here. He looked as if he had come pretty low. He wondered if he had come to the right man. Had his sand run put with his money?
He didn’t waste any time. He put it to the man straight. ‘Trask, I want to find your old place tonight. Will you guide me there?’
The man stared at him a moment in thought, trying to divine Spur’s purpose.
‘I should ask why you want to get there,’ he said. ‘But I won’t. I’ll come along no questions asked.’
‘Good man. Do you have a horse?’
‘Not anymore.’
‘We’ll fix you up at the livery.’
‘Is there a fight in this?’ Trask asked.
‘For me, not for you,’ Spur told him.
‘That’s where you’re wrong. Time I had a fight.’
‘Suit yourself.’
The man rummaged around. In a minute or two he produced an old Remington revolver and a Spencer repeating carbine
. He grinned wryly and said: ‘Saved ’em for a rainy day.’ He filled his pocket with shells, clapped his hat on his head and they walked through the town to the livery.
They woke the old man there and he was fit to be tied, just the same they demanded and got a pretty good horse, a dun who looked like he was a goer. They also obtained saddle and bridle and in short time they were in the saddle, Trask on the dun and Spur on his mare. They didn’t ride down Main but slipped out of town north of the corral. As they went, Trask said: ‘By God, it’s good to be in the saddle again. Can a man ask who we’re after?’
‘Beddoe and anybody else with him who can wag a tongue.’
‘Holy smoke, you sure pick ’em big,’ Trask said in admiration.
They lifted their horses to a lope and headed south-east. Trask led the way unerringly as if he knew every inch of the trail. There were few words between them. Spur was tired and grateful for the silence. Every now and then he dozed a little in the saddle and the respite refreshed him. After an hour, the low cloud ceiling which had obscured the stars cleared. There was a hush over the land broken only occasionally by the movement of cattle.
They reached a creek with no more than a foot of water in the bed of it. Here they loosened girths for a while, allowed the horses to drink sparingly and drank a little themselves.
Trask said: ‘Not far now.’
‘I want to move in just before dawn.’
‘Make it with time to spare,’ said Trask. ‘The crick winds east into the hills from here. The house is in an ox-bow. Nice spot.’ There was regret in his voice.
When they went on, Spur felt the start of a gradient. The horses began to strain a little. Inside ten minutes, they were on a ridge looking down into a narrow valley. Spur halted.
‘You can turn back now,’ Spur said. ‘You’ve done your piece.’
He could see the dark blur of the house in the loop of the creek. The water glittered faintly in the starlight.
‘How many men you reckon’re down there?’ Trask asked.
‘No idea.’
‘More than one?’
‘Sure.’
‘Then you’re goin’ to need me, rep or no rep.’
Spur grinned and said: ‘You could be right. Any good with a rifle?’
‘Pretty good.’
‘Find a spot you can cover the front of the house from, Spur said, then added: ‘With good cover for the horses.’
Trask led the way down off the ridge, angling slightly to the left. A few minutes later, he halted on a lower ridge which was adorned with low-growing brush.
‘I can shoot the plates off the shelves from here,’ he said.
They dismounted and tied their horses. Spur looked at the sky and saw that dawn was not far off.
‘I’m goin’ in, he said. ‘I’ll keep slightly to the right of the house out of your line of fire. Don’t shoot till I do. Then shoot the place to shreds. You needn’t kill anybody. Just show ’em there ain’t any profit in fortin’ up.’
‘Okay,’ said Trask.
Spur lifted his rifle from the boot and tramped off down the ridge. Trask called after him: ‘Luck.’
He headed for the creek, climbed down its bank and worked his way north till he was opposite the house. The building was a good pistol shot away. He climbed the bank and walked toward the house just as the gray fingers of dawn started to knead the sky. He came to some brush and hunkered down behind it. From here he could cover the two windows and the door at the front of the cabin. The side nearest to him was without a window. The brush didn’t offer him any protection if it came to shooting, but the ground was broken to his right and he could dive for that. Also to his fight was a wagon. The corral was on the far side of the house and, judging by the sounds, there were a good few horses in it. Which meant that there could be any number of men in the house. He knew then for sure that there was some risk here.
He waited. If this was a normal cow-outfit pretty soon somebody would come out to relieve himself or go down to the creek for water. He could see no sign of a pump.
After no more than ten minutes, he heard coughing inside the house and a few moments later a man opened the door and walked into the yard. He stretched, yawned and scratched his ribs a few times. He had the tussled dazed look of a man who came very reluctantly from sleep. There was no sign of a gun on him. He stood for a while, coughing and looking miserable, then, picking up a bucket, started walking toward the creek. He came within six yards of the brush which concealed Spur. It was almost full light now and Spur reckoned that Trask could see the man pretty clearly.
Spur let him walk a couple of paces past him, then he said quietly: ‘Hold it right there. One sound an’ you’re dead.’ Apparently, the situation wasn’t new to the man. Without hesitation, he dropped the bucket and raised his hands above his head. He turned his head, looked at Spur and said: ‘Christ.’ Spur waited a moment to see if the sound made by the falling bucket would arouse the house, then said: ‘Unbuckle your belt and drop your pants.’
The man said: ‘Huh?’ then he got it. He unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. He was efficiently hobbled.
Spur said: ‘Beddoe in the house?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Call him out here. Do it wrong and I blow your head off.’
The man swallowed hard. He looked at Spur, saw he meant what he said and yelled: ‘Mr. Beddoe, Mr. Beddoe, come on out here!’ The natural alarm in his voice made the summons sound effective.
There was a moment’s silence before the door of the house was wrenched open and the massive figure of the rancher was revealed in Long Johns.
‘What the goddam hell?’ he roared.
‘Stay tight there, Beddoe,’ Spur called, ‘you’re covered.’
Beddoe lowered his head and stared like a bewildered bull ‘Who’re you?’
‘Spur.’
Beddoe moved with a speed that was unbelievable in a man of his size. He was back inside the house and the door slammed before Spur could get off a shot. Any road, he didn’t want the man dead. He very much wanted him alive.
Spur asked the man with his pants down: ‘How many in the house?’
‘Beddoe and three more.’
A shot sounded from the house, tore through the brush and missed Spur’s head by no more than a couple of inches. He dove one way and the other man went the other. Spur found himself in a shallow gully that gave him fair cover. He settled himself down and fired one shot through each window. He waited a moment. Trask then opened up from the ridge. Spur then fired his rifle empty, pumping lead steadily through the nearest window, while Trask did the same through the other one. To be inside the building during that time must have been particularly unpleasant and unnerving. There must have been direct shots and ricochets all over the place. When he stopped shooting, Trask did the same. After the continuous sound of rifle fire and the resulting crash of breaking china, clanking of pots and pans, the silence was blissful.
Spur put a new tube of shots into his rifle and waited a moment. He wanted the fact that it was going to be hell in there if they didn’t surrender to sink into the defenders’ heads.
When he was ready to fire again, he called: ‘Come on out, Beddoe, while you’re still alive. You’re surrounded an’ we can keep this up all day. We’ll shoot you to ribbons.’
Silence.
There came a shot from inside. No bullet came his way. He surmised that one of the men in there wanted to give up and Beddoe had changed his mind with a warning shot.
Spur started shooting again and Trask followed his example. It must have been almost unbearable in there even if the men were hugging the floor. Only one shot came back at him. This was fired by a man in a red shirt. He showed for a brief moment at the window then disappeared. Spur made no attempt to hit him. This wasn’t a killing spree. He looked at the man with his pants down and saw that he hadn’t moved.
‘Come out with your hands up, men!’ Spur shouted ‘I only want Beddoe.’
This
time, he heard the sound of voices raised in argument in the house. He reckoned it wouldn’t be long now.
Finally, a voice was raised in a shout—
‘We’re comin’ out.’
‘Throw out your guns first.’ They might not throw them all out, but that would cut down the odds. The door opened and the tossed guns raised little puffs of dust.
A man walked out with his hands high. He was a young Mexican. Maybe this was Manuela’s lover. Then came a squat Anglo minus his shirt and boots. He looked like a man in shock, as well he might. Next came Beddoe, shaken and enraged. He halted ten paces from the house, belly sagging. Last came a tall thin man, fully dressed. From where he was, Spur couldn’t see a gun on them.
Spur said to the man with his pants down: ‘Go join the others.’ The man stood up and hobbled toward them. When they were all together, Spur rose to his feet, toted his rifle in his left hand and drew his Colt. He walked toward them.
‘Just behave yourselves an’ you won’t get hurt,’ he said. ‘There’s a rifle lookin’ at you from the ridge.’
‘What the hell is this?’ Beddoe bellowed.
‘I’m arresting’ you, Beddoe,’ Spur told him.
‘What’s the charge?’
‘Ain’t made up my mind yet, but I’ll think of somethin’. How about attempted murder?’
‘You’re crazy. I ain’t tried to murder anybody.’
‘Resistin’ arrest. You just did that.’
‘When this gits out, it’ll cost you your job.’
Spur smiled.
‘When this gets out,’ he said, ‘Blaxall’s goin’ to have you killed.’
Stark terror showed on the man’s face. His mouth trembled. ‘I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,’ he whispered hoarsely. He was utterly deflated Spur hoped he stayed that way.
Spur said to the Mexican: ‘Go catch up a horse for the boss. He’s goin’ to take a ride. Somebody fetch his clothes.’
The squat man obeyed. Ten minutes later Beddoe was fully clothed and his horse stood saddled Spur told the men: ‘Was I you, I’d clear out. There ain’t no profit in it for any of you.’
A short while after, he joined Trask on the ridge. Trask greeted Beddoe with a grin and said: ‘I sure enjoyed that, Beddoe.’
The Brave Ride Tall (A Sam Spur Western Book 9) Page 11
