by J. T. Edson
“I’d sure like to know where she hid Calhoun’s men out in town,” Dusty remarked. “The men would be easy, but not the horses. We checked the livery barns and every one of the empty freight companies’ buildings.”
Mark picked a sheet of paper up from the bottom of the safe and blew dust from it, looking down at the faded print, then passing it to Dusty. “Reckon I could make a fair guess at where they were kept.”
Dusty accepted the paper, glanced at it and nodded. Of course, that was the obvious answer. The one place other than either livery barn, freight company or stageline which would have a fair number of horses around. The one place Dusty had never thought of looking in. He could see everything clearly now, it all added up to one thing. His guess was correct, Bearcat Annie was not the big wheel. That was when he remembered what the scent in the bottle was used for.
* * *
Rusty Willis walked the streets of Quiet Town and pondered on the way the townsfolk greeted him. When he came to town with the Wedge he was regarded either as a wild heller on a spree or as a source of profit. Here he was a respected and respectable member of the town law. Even mothers with young daughters smiled at him now.
He was on one of the quiet, semi-residential streets, walking along at an easy pace, noting that the people who lived there appeared to be at home instead of out seeing the sights of the town. He was approaching a building when he saw a buggy standing in front of him, the horse facing in his direction. The buggy was in the light of the windows and open door, an innocent enough looking thing in a town like this. Rusty glanced at it and gave it little thought. He got his bearings and saw that the building was Buzzard Grimwood’s establishment. The two storey house and shop, the high plank fence which surrounded his property, hiding from view his large stables where he kept the teams for his hearses and the hearses themselves.
A man came from the building, a slim man wearing the dress of a professional gambler, grey cutaway coat and white, low crowned hat showing plainly in the light. Somehow he looked familiar to Rusty although the young man could not tie him down.
Even as Rusty stood looking the man swung a carpetbag onto the seat of the buggy and came around to get in. There was nothing wrong with the sight except that Rusty was a lawman now and thought differently from when he first rode into Quiet Town. The man might be quite harmless and innocently visiting Grimwood. It would do no harm to check up. Rusty was about to walk forward when he remembered two of Dusty’s instructions. Never approach a buggy in such a way the man in it could run you down. Never, no matter how innocent he looked, approach a suspect without being ready to take action against him.
Quickly Rusty crossed the street, coming alongside the man, hand hanging by the butt of his gun as he called, “Hold it up there, mister. I’m a deputy—.”
The man in the buggy twisted around fast, seeing the badge glinting on Rusty Willis’s vest. With a snarl the man sent his hand under his coat. The move was fast, very fast. Rusty could not equal such speed, but thanks to Dusty’s warning he was not taken by surprise. Even as the short barrelled gun came from under the man’s coat and roared Rusty was dropping. The bullet cut a hole in his hat brim as he landed on the ground, hand fanning to the butt of his old Dance gun. The heavy Confederate revolver came up, lining and roaring loud in Rusty’s hand. For a copy of a Colt Dragoon the Dance made a fair job of shooting. The heavy ball caught the man in his chest, knocking him backwards from the buggy. The horse lunged forward, swinging the buggy into the sidewalk, one wheel catching a hitching post and slamming the vehicle to a halt. The carpetbag was thrown from the buggy; it burst open as it landed and in the light of the shop window Rusty saw money spill out.
Walking forward, his Dance gun held ready Rusty went to the man he had killed. People were coming from their houses, running towards him as he turned the body over and looked down at the face. Rusty straightened up, his face working as he recognised the man he had shot. Ignoring the crowd he holstered his gun, shoved the money back into the carpetbag and turned to make for the Bearcat Annie saloon to report to his boss. He wondered what Dusty was going to say.
Dusty Fog was coming from the office, followed by Mark Counter and the Ysabel Kid. They looked around. The place was empty now, the women upstairs in beds, dancehall girls and town women laying side by side recovering from the fight. The three Texans were going to collect the last and most vital member of the gang which brought terror and trouble to Quiet Town. They halted as Rusty came in, face lined with worry at what he had done.
“What’s wrong, boy?” Dusty asked, glancing at the carpetbag Rusty held.
“I’ve just made a bad mistake, killed a man. Honest Dusty, I didn’t recognise him, he wasn’t wearing his usual clothes. When I spoke to him, told him I was deputy, he drew and shot at me and I killed him.”
“So?” Dusty asked, knowing there was more to it than that. Rusty would not be worried unless it was something real bad. Killing a man who acted like that was to be regretted, but necessary.
“It was Buzzard Grimwood. I didn’t recognise him in that get-up and I killed him, Dusty.”
Dusty glanced at the sheet of paper he held. The marriage certificate between Annie Gill and James Thornlay Grimwood. Then he looked at Rusty Willis and answered, “Good, you likely saved me having to do it.”
THE END
oooOooo
Scanned and proofed by Amigo da Onça
