They walked along the sidewalk to an alleyway and headed down it going north. They walked softly and with care. It was Ben’s guess that if Blaxall intended to try for the bank, he might have posted a man to watch it.
They reached the end of the alleyway without any incident and Ben touched Damyon on the arm and pushed him down. They crouched there in the darkness.
They waited five minutes … ten …
Then they heard the horses. There were only a few stars and they could see little.
The horses walked to within about thirty feet of them and from the sounds Ben reckoned there could be four. That added.
There came a movement off to their right and a man walked forward toward the horses. Ben had been right; Blaxall had left a man on watch here.
The man was challenged.
‘Hogarth, Mr. Blaxall,’ the man said. ‘All quiet.’
Blaxall gave some orders Ben couldn’t catch. He saw the dark forms of men approaching the rear of the bank. He touched Damyon on the shoulder to show him that he was going to change his position and moved off into the darkness. He wanted the enemy in a crossfire.
A door opened.
There was a flare of a match in the darkness. Men’s faces were startlingly illuminated. Ben saw the tall bearded figure of Blaxall.
A lamp was lit, then the door was closed. The light showed through a window. There was the dark silhouette of a man between Ben and the window. If he stayed put, that man was a sure target.
Ben wondered if there were any other guards out in the darkness. He couldn’t know till the shooting started. There was the rub. He would have to challenge Blaxall as he came out with the money. In doing that, he would be forced to give his position away. That could make him a certain target for a good man with a gun.
Maybe he hadn’t been so goddam smart after all.
He crouched in the darkness, waiting. He could hear faint sounds from inside the bank. Something like ten minutes passed. The moon rode out from behind a cloud, giving a better fight—that might prove to be an advantage.
Suddenly, the light went out in the bank.
Ben braced himself. The time was near.
He heard the door open. He saw the dim figure of a man walk out into the moonlight. He imagined that it was Blaxall but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t make a move until they were all out in the open. There must be no chance of a man slipping back into the bank with a gun.
Several men came out of the building and grouped for a moment near the horses. Then a man reared up into the saddle.
Blaxall’s voice came—
‘Hurry it up, we don’t have all night.’
A voice was raised pleadingly—
‘I beg of you, Kerby. This’ll ruin me. The town’ll blame me for it.’
Blaxall was impatient.
‘Nobody’ll blame you for anything, you fool. So some nasty men held a gun on the honest banker. You couldn’t do a thing about it.’
‘There’re men who know your connection with the bank.’
‘For Crissake,’ Blaxall cried. ‘Tel ’em it was me. Tell ’em anything, but get out of my road. Smith, get this fool away from me.’
Ben saw that there was a man clinging to the boot of the mounted man. Another man moved forward out of the shadows. There came the dull gleam of a blade in the moonlight
Smith’s knife.
Ben moved. He jacked a round into the breech of his rifle, shouting: ‘You covered. Throw up your hands.’
For one second it seemed that every man there froze.
In the next second, every man there moved. It was as if they had all instantly obeyed a direct command.
And, as they moved, Damyon, at the rear end of the alleyway, fired a shot.
A man screamed. The door of the bank was wrenched open and a man threw himself inside. There was a flurry of shots from the direction of the bank as Ben let his own first shot go. Several bullets winged past him. He flung himself flat on his face, jacking his rifle and firing as he dropped. He aimed at the mounted man, but he was no longer in the saddle. The horses scampered off to the east, neighing with fright. Whether a man went with them, Ben didn’t know. But he knew he couldn’t shoot down horses in cold blood. He’d been a damn fool. He should have cut down on the men before he called them. He was getting too soft like Spur. It would be the death of him yet. Maybe pretty soon. He rolled to the left as lead sought him out. Damyon was firing steadily from the alley-mouth. The din was deafening.
Then as suddenly as the firing had started, it stopped.
Ben heard booted feet pounding down the alleyway.
Damyon yelled—
‘Stop or I plug you.’
The feet stopped and Student’s voice came—
‘It’s me, Student.’
‘Come ahead.’
Somebody near the bank fired. Ben saw the muzzle-flash and drove a shot at it.
A figure moved off to the right, crawling. Ben swung his rifle and snapped a shot. The figure collapsed on its face.
The two rifles in the alley-mouth rattled.
Then silence.
Smoke drifted in the moonlight, eerily. The whole town seemed to be still and listening. Nothing moved near the bank. Ben jerked up his head. He heard the sound of horses getting on the move to the east. They trotted, then broke into a gallop. They swept away into the night around the north side of the town. He estimated that there were three horses, but he couldn’t be sure.
Damyon called: ‘I’m movin’ in, Ben.’
‘Go awful careful,’ Ben warned. He passed his rifle to his left hand and drew his pistol. This was his best weapon for an emergency shot. There was no man quicker on earth with the belt-gun, nor more accurate, except maybe Spur. They’d never checked the question.
He got slowly to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Damyon and Student come out into the moonlight, tensed and cautious. Slowly, the three of them advanced.
Chapter Fourteen
The doctor had just finished strapping Spur’s ribs when the burst of firing came from the far side of Main. Spur jumped to his feet and winced.
The doctor snapped: ‘Sit down an’ be still.’
‘You did a fine job, Doc,’ Spur said. ‘Now get out of my road.’
Manuela and Silena voiced their objection as he headed for the door, gun in hand. They might as well have talked to the wall. He wrenched the door open and headed for the stairs. There was no thought of his physical weakness now. That damn fool Ben had taken on Blaxall and Smith at the bank just like Spur had told him not to.
But when he reached the lobby, his weakness caught up with him and he could not deny it. He leaned for a moment against Silena’s desk and experienced the revolution of the lobby for a while. When it steadied itself a little, he headed for the street. He looked toward the bank and saw a man running across the street. He had a rifle in his hands. It was Mike Student. Maybe Ben wasn’t such a fool and had gotten himself some help. Spur drew air into his lungs and felt his ribs crack. A man ran along the sidewalk.
‘My God, what’s happening?’ he cried.
It was the mayor.
‘Somebody shootin’,’ said Spur. ‘Your friend Blaxall’s gettin’ his comeuppance. You’d best crawl out of town, Mayor, while the goin’s good.’
He walked on, leaving the little man spluttering and spooked.
He reached the mouth of the alleyway at the side of the bank and started down it. Men were firing rifles at the far end. Bullets weren’t coming in Spur’s direction, so he thought it was safe to go ahead.
Halfway down the alleyway, the shooting stopped.
He heard horses on the move. A shout came and he thought it sounded like Damyon. Hell, had Ben all their friends in action. The calculating sonovabitch. He’d deliberately done this without Spur. A man couldn’t forget that kind of treachery.
He reached the rear corner of the bank and leaned there, almost spent. He could see three figures standing staring down at
something on the ground. He got a grip on himself and walked toward them.
One of the men turned his head and said: ‘Spur.’ It was Clance Damyon.
Ben said: ‘Trust you to come nosin’ in.’
‘Don’t you give me none of your sass, you bastard,’ said Spur.
Ben grinned.
‘You kin see we’s friends,’ he said.
‘I told you—’
Ben said: ‘Boy, you ain’t even here. You’re sick.’
Spur looked down at the man lying on the ground. He lay on his back and had been caught by two bullets. One through the chest and one through the head. He was as dead as he’d ever be. Spur had never seen him before. Somebody else lay across the door sill of the bank. Spur walked over to him. He lay on his face and with some difficulty, Spur turned him over. He had received a bullet in the back and he was the bankman. Poor futile devil. The little leeches lived on the big leech and died for them.
He turned and asked: ‘That Blaxall who lit out?’
‘I reckon,’ Ben said. He had made up his mind what he would do. He would sneak out at dawn and pick up the trail and keep on it till he got Blaxall and Smith. He hadn’t reckoned on Spur.
The marshal said: ‘You boys aimin’ to stand around here all night? Mike, rustle up the undertaker and get these stiffs taken care of. Clance, go look like you’re a deputy down at the office. Ben, get the horses saddled?’
Ben said: ‘I’m a jump ahead. Jenny an’ Albert is all prepared for the trail.’
‘You’re not goin’ anyplace, Spur,’ Damyon said, ‘except to bed.’
Spur snarled: ‘You fellers is going to pieces just because there’s been a little rough stuff. Get movin’ now.’
Damyon snarled back: ‘The only movin’ I’m doin’ is after that bastard Blaxall.’
‘You’ll do as you’re told.’ Spur showed the anger of a man physically weak and stubborn.
‘You ain’t nothin’ to me,’ Damyon said. ‘You can’t give me orders.’
‘You ain’t official.’
‘You swore me in.’
‘I’m swearin’ you out again.’
‘You can swear all you want. I aim to go along with Ben.’
Ben said: ‘You’re mighty welcome, neighbor.’
Spur gave up.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘get your asses shot off if you want.’
He started toward the livery. The other two followed. Student headed down the alleyway toward Main grumbling he was left the boy’s chore.
When they reached the livery, the old man came out and demanded to know what all the shooting was about. They told him and he gabbled a little. It was getting like the bad old days when a man’s life wasn’t safe. Damyon demanded a horse. The old man told him to go ahead and help himself. Ben lifted down the lamp hanging beside the door. They walked into the barn. Ben carried the lamp over to the stalls and held it high for Damyon to look at the horses. The mare and the mule stood ready and saddled. Jenny gave a small whinny of delight. She had been eating her head off and she wanted to run.
Spur leaned against a stall and said, ‘All right, girl, won’t be long now.’
Jenny turned her head and Spur stepped forward into the stall to pat her nose.
The movement saved his life.
As a gun went off with a deafening report in the confined space, the bullet hit the upright of the stall and knocked wood splinters out of it.
Spur and Ben acted like the professionals they were. They knew that economy of movement counted. They knew they had seconds only and they used them. They knew the exact spot from which the shot had come.
Ben, out in the open, knew he had to put the lamp down because they needed light in case the marksman moved. He dropped flat, placed the lamp and drew his gun in one movement.
Spur flung himself full length in the stall so that his shoulders were near Jenny’s hind hoofs. His gun came free as he dropped.
Both he and Ben fired they hit ground.
Neither really had time to see the man they fired at. Their two shots drove home into the shadowy figure to one side of the barn door. The forty-five slugs drove the man backward against the wall. His gun clattered to the ground. He seemed pinned against the wall for a second, then he dropped. He kicked twice and lay still.
Spur and Ben rose to their feet, cocked their guns and Ben picked up the lamp. They walked slowly and cautiously toward the mm and looked down at him.
Ben said: ‘Mutton. One in the head and one in the heart.’
‘The damn fool,’ said Spur.
Neither of them knew him, but they knew he had been planted by Blaxall. Damyon hadn’t moved.
‘My God,’ he said.
Spur said: ‘Go tell the old man to fetch Mike an’ tell him there’s another stiff to collect.’
Damyon walked out.
Ben said: ‘They sure is dyin’ like flies on molasses.’
‘Saddle that sorrel,’ Spur said, ‘we don’t have all night.’
He felt pretty weak and he wanted to sit down, but that would mean admitting his weakness to himself and he couldn’t afford to do that. He propped himself against the door jamb and reloaded his gun. He’d have plenty of time to sit down when he bestrode the mare.
When Clance Damyon came back, the sorrel was saddled. ‘The old man was so scared,’ he said, ‘I could hardly get through to him. But he went.’
Ben said: ‘We don’t have no supplies. We don’t know how long this is goin’ to take.’
‘We’ll stop by the hotel,’ Spur told him.
Ben said: ‘This is crazy. We should ought to wait till dawn. I can’t see no sign in this light.’ He was worried about Spur. If he could get Spur into bed, Spur might sleep past dawn and then he could sneak away without him.
Spur said: ‘You’re a damn liar. Those fellers left tracks even you can follow. They’ll be a foot deep an’ a mile wide.’
Ben growled: ‘You know what? That Albert he got more sense’n you.’
Spur said: ‘You’re just spooky because of the nasty bad men you have to trail.’ And backed Jenny out of the stall. He found out just how weak he was when he tried to get into the saddle, It took three tries before he was astride.
Ben watched him skeptically.
‘You goin’ to be a real hassle,’ he said. ‘Coupla miles an’ I’ll be totin’ you back to bed.’
Spur said; ‘You talk any more an’ Clance’ll be totin’ you down to the doc’s to pick the teeth outa your throat.’
Ben spat and climbed aboard the mule. Damyon swung up on the sorrel and they rode out onto Atom. The street seemed full of people, drawn there by the shooting. Questions were showered at them from all sides. They answered a few, hitched outside the hotel and found Selina and Manuela in the lobby looking worried. They seemed relieved to see them alive. Spur said they wanted food and fast. The two girls moved. Spur propped himself up against the desk and hoped he’d still be on his feet when they came back. His head ached and his rib-cage felt as if it consisted of small fragments of bone in spite of the doctor’s having taped it.
He was still there when the girls returned. They took the parcels of food and filled canteens and thanked them.
‘Where’re you going?’ Selina asked.
‘Blaxall and Smith ran for it. We’re goin’ to bring ’em back,’ Spur told her.
‘Have great care,’ Manuela said in Spanish.
‘Be careful,’ Selina said.
It was nice. They turned and walked out. There was quite a crowd there. Nobody offered to go along with them. Spur was both disgusted and thankful. He hoped he would get into the saddle first time without falling over. With a great effort of will he made it. They turned their horses and rode slowly down the street. They rode through the Mexican part of town and out onto the plain beyond. A hundred yards east of town, Ben cut the sign of the fugitives. It showed that they were headed south.
‘Mexico,’ said Spur. ‘If they have luck, they’ll make it.’
‘Could be,’ Spur agreed and they rode.
The sign led them directly south. They followed it at an easy pace for about an hour and during that time, though Jenny’s movement hurt Spur’s ribs and his head, he found it also took some of the stiffness from him. It also felt good to be in the saddle again. Then the sign petered out on stony ground.
They pulled up and Ben sniffed around without any luck.
‘Hell,’ Damyon said, ‘we’d best wait for light.’
Spur said: ‘What do you think, Ben?’
‘Take a chance,’ the Negro said. ‘We stop now, they hit the Border for sure. I’ll bet they went straight ahead. They follow a straight line for an hour. Why the hell should they stop now?’
Damyon said: ‘Maybe they’re tryin’ to lose us.’
Ben said: ‘It’s a cinch they don’t reckon on us followin’ till dawn. We go ahead and come dawn I’ll cut for sign.’
‘Best we can do.’ Spur agreed. ‘Let’s go.’
They went on.
They kept at a hammering trot till dawn, a pace that was telling on the men, but which saved the horses. Spur was satisfied that they had pretty good horseflesh and theirs would stand the pace if the animals ahead could. The ground was pretty stony, but Ben reckoned there was enough soft stuff around for him to pick something up. He told Spur to take a rest while he hunted for sign. Spur didn’t argue. He was bushed. They unsaddled the mare and the sorrel and let them roll. There was no grass around for them, but Ben had tied oats to each saddle horn. He rode off and Spur lay down. Damyon said that was a good idea and followed his example.
After a while, Spur fell asleep. The sleep was so deep that when Damyon woke him, he didn’t know where he was.
Damyon told him: ‘Ben found something.’
Spur sat up, feeling groggy and looked to the west where Damyon was pointing. Ben was circling and waving to them. Spur got to his feet and they saddled them horses. When they reached Ben, the Negro told them: ‘We was right. They headed south. All we been doin’ is wastin’ time.’
Damyon asked Spur if he wanted to stop and eat. Spur said, no, the horses were holding up pretty well and they’d go ahead until the heat hit them and then they’d see.
The Brave Ride Tall (A Sam Spur Western Book 9) Page 14
