A Coffin Full Of Dollars

by Joe Millard

  He slapped the reins and the team obediently leaned into the heavy collars and the wagon lurched into motion. It was a tight turn and he barely made it without backing. He glared at the unfamiliar stretch of road, annoyed by this evidence of a memory lapse. He looked back to see the other two wagons following, having also negotiated the sharp turn. Hunk's wagon had an empty cage on the rear. The horses had returned after the flood but there had been no sign of Elmer, the lion. Molly and the girls were beginning to worry that some accident had befallen the amiable old beast. After all, Jefferson Davis's camels were almost the only other alien animals to be encountered by trigger-happy and uninformed citizens. And to the uninitiated, Elmer could look like a strange and ferocious beast whose only purpose in life was to absorb bullets.

  In this stretch of pass, the rock walls were nearly close enough to scrape wagon hubs. Dandy glared at the encroaching walls and swore under his breath. Above all, he prided himself on a sharp and facile mind and this evidence that he might be slipping rode him with sharp spurs.

  Up ahead the rock walls opened wider to expose a flat and luxurious canyon. More than ever, Dandy was convinced that he was on a new and totally unfamiliar road. Yet the "how" of the happening eluded him. So far as he knew or could remember, Crazy Woman Pass was some five miles of almost arrow-straight rift between walls of solid rock, without fork or side trail. It had probably been formed in some prehistoric past by the same awesome fury that had upended the Malhoras and broken them into largely impenetrable rubble scaled for giants.

  The wagons emerged from the narrow pass onto the broad and open floor of a canyon. All around were steep and towering cliffs with great heaps of broken rocks at their feet. Some distance ahead the scattered trees merged into a dense, dark wood. At the edge of the woods were some half-resolved shapes that could be buildings of some sort.

  Dandy's eyes and reason convinced him that never in his life had he seen this place before. Yet straight on led a road—the only road he had seen since entering the pass. Dandy was a cocky and self-assured man and no experience of his life had ever shaken him so badly. He looked down and saw that the slim hands holding the reins were trembling violently.

  The horses plodded steadily on. As he neared the woods, he saw that the shapes he had glimpsed at first actually were cabins, tucked back under the trees. Close beside them was a wagon park, crowded with an array of vehicles parked hub-to-hub.

  In the forefront was a heavy wagon, its bed covered by a tarp, its side bearing the name; LUCKY NUGGET MINE. The name was unfamiliar to Dandy but the man with the Y-shaped scar on his cheek, sitting on the ground with his arms thrust through the right rear wheel, was shockingly familiar.

  Dandy hauled back on the reins, yelping, "You! What in hell are you doing down there?"

  "What in hell do you think I'm doing?" Shadrach snarled. He slid his arms up the wheel spokes and shook them to make the handcuffs jingle. "Knitting cat's fur to make kittens' britches?"

  Apachito rode out of the woods with Lupo at his side and the remaining outlaws strung out behind. The outlaw chief leered at Dandy, his dark Indian eyes glittering.

  "Well, well. If it isn't Mr. Dandy Deever himself. It was good of you to make this long journey just to deliver my half million dollars."

  Dandy's complexion had turned the color of wet ashes. He slapped his forehead and moaned, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"

  CHAPTER 18

  At the appearance of the outlaws, Laura had dived out of sight under the canvas, joining Cora who was still in her bedraggled clown costume and makeup. Molly sat alone on the wagon seat, pale, grim and wary. On the third wagon, Hunk had his trumpet to his lips and was softly playing something that sounded suspiciously like a jazzed-up version of a funeral dirge.

  Apachito swung out of his saddle. He was no longer grinning and his eyes had the cold glitter of a snake's. He snapped his fingers impatiently.

  "Don't just sit there like a wart on a whore's behind. Come down and dig out the chest of money from wherever it is. Or did you think to make Apachito play guessing games, eh?"

  Dandy scrambled to the ground, tottering on legs that threatened to buckle like boiled noodles. His eyes darted wildly around in a futile search for rescue.

  "Now wait, Mr. Apachito. J-Just give me time to explain."

  "There is nothing to explain," Apachito roared. He slapped his holstered gun. "Your time is running out. Get me that chest of money! Muy pronto!"

  "That's wh-what I'm trying to explain," Dandy quavered. "I don't have the money. I—I g-gave it back to the bank. It was r-rightfully theirs..."

  Apachito roared like a wounded bull and cursed wildly in English, Spanish and a variety of Indian dialects. In his hiding place The Man With No Name raised up far enough to get a glimpse of the scene through the trees. His lips twitched and he shook his head wonderingly.

  "That brass-nerved bastard," he murmured. "He might just pull it off, at that. Apachito doesn't know him as well as I've come to these past weeks. But the day Dandy Deever gives back a half-million simoleons, the long-horn steers'll lay hard-boiled eggs."

  The bandit chieftain had cursed himself out of breath. He whirled, ran to the back of Dandy's wagon and ripped the curtains apart. The interior was piled high with a variety of circus equipment. At the rear, packed in against the tailgate, was the folded canvas of the recovered dressing tent.

  Panting, Apachito clawed at the still-damp folds of canvas until he could lift one end. Nestled snugly beneath it was the metal money chest, the name "Hangville Bank" stenciled on the lid.

  He whirled, snarling, "So you gave the money back, did you? You think to make a fool of Apachito?" His gun was suddenly in his hand. "For that I should kill you where you stand."

  "Don't," Dandy quavered. "Listen to me, Mr. Apachito. There isn't any money in it. I swear there isn't. The bank let me keep the chest for holding costumes because it's watertight and they won't get so wrinkled in the rainy season."

  "We'll see," Apachito rasped. "Lupo, you and Moose, get it down and open it. If there is so much as one dollar in it, this schemer with the forked tongue will die very slowly."

  The chest was lifted to the ground, the lid thrown back. Inside was a stack of neatly folded dresses, together with Dandy's swallow-tailed coat and his high silk topper, collapsed to a flat disc.

  The bandit chieftain uttered a high, wordless shriek and whirled on Dandy. The knuckles of his gun hand looked as if they were coated with frost.

  "Do you take Apachito for nothing but an estupido idiota—a stupid idiot? No one is crazy enough to just give away a half-million dollars. You have taken the money out of the chest and hidden it somewhere in one of your wagons. But we will find it, never you fear, if we have to tear your wagons and everything in them to little pieces." He turned on his pack, his swarthy face black with rage. "Don't just stand there, you fools! Start unloading the wagons. Take everything out of all three and break it open or tear it apart to see if anything is hidden inside. Then if you do not find it, strip them all to the skin. The big woman alone could have half the money stowed under that full dress and long skirt."

  Dandy squawled, "You wouldn't dare, you—you ape!"

  Lupo swung his arm in an almost casual swipe. The back of his big hand took Dandy in the mouth and sent him reeling backward.

  "Watch your talk, smart one. There is nothing Apachito does not dare." Lupo turned to his chief. "That one simply has the cold feet when he thinks of giving up the money that really belongs to us. If we were to build a hot fire and warm his cold feet in it for a time, he might find it easier to tell us what we want to know. That would spare us all much work and trouble unloading all that junk and searching it."

  "And he would amuse us all with his screams," Apachito said, grinning savagely. "A very good idea, my old and trusted friend. But I have an even better one. The big woman has yet to pay the penalty for striking Apachito with a whip. So we will roast her tender feet in the fire to teach her respect f
or the most terrible bandido of them all. Also, old friend, I think she will not scream very long before Mister Forked Tongue, here, will be happy to tell us exactly where our money is hidden."

  "Goddam you, you monster," Dandy howled. "If you dare to touch Molly, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

  He lunged wildly at Apachito who leaped backward, grabbing for his gun. Lupo whipped his own pistol out first and slammed the barrel down on Dandy's bare head. The circus man took a couple more rubber-legged steps and pitched onto his face. Molly uttered a small, tight shriek, scrambled down from the wagon and ran to kneel beside him.

  "Good work, friend Lupo," Apachito said. "Before he wakes up, have both him and the woman handcuffed and a good, hot fire built up."

  On her knees, Molly looked up, her face contorted with hatred. "You—you animal!"

  "My dear senora," the outlaw said blandly. "I am not an animal; I am all animals. In Apachito you will find combined the cleverness of the wily fox, the stealth and ferocity of the mountain lion, the courage of—"

  "How about the polecat?" came the icy voice of the bounty hunter.

  He was standing a few feet from where Shadrach knelt by the wagon wheel that held him trapped. The rifle in his manacled hands pointed unwaveringly at Apachito's midsection. The expression on his face was a chilling mask of death itself. Shadrach's head whipped around, a look of stunned disbelief on his face.

  "Oh, no," he gasped. "Oh, you damned fool! Why did you have to barge in and practically invite them to blow your dumb head off? Why didn't you stay in the clear and wait your chance to slip in and cut me loose?"

  After the first frozen moments of shock, there was a ripple of beginning movement, a visible tensing among the outlaws.

  "Don't try it," the bounty hunter said sharply. "If anybody reaches for his gun, your boss-rat gets a slug right in his belly, where the pain is the worst and lasts the longest."

  "Do what he says," Apachito cried hoarsely. "They do not call him Mister Sudden Death for nothing."

  His swarthy face glistened with the sheen of cold sweat. The hunter took a half-dozen quick steps that brought him directly behind Apachito, making the bandit chieftain both a hostage and a human shield. The muzzle of the rifle dug into the squat man's back.

  "You and Lupo, drop your guns. The rest of you, unbuckle your gun belts, lay them down easy and step away from them. And don't anybody make any sudden moves that might make this trigger finger jumpy."

  Apachito and his lieutenant let their pistols fall. The others hesitated, their faces twisted with rage as they measured the overwhelming odds and weighed their chances.

  "I wouldn't if I were you," the hunter said softly. "Oh, you outnumber me so you'd gun me down, of course—providing you're willing to pay the price, but it won't be cheap. You all know my reputation, and some of you have seen me shoot. You know I'm not bluffing when I promise you I'll take one of you down with me for every bullet in this gun."

  "You heard him," Apachito croaked. "Move, damn you! Our turn will come later."

  Slowly and sullenly, cursing under their breaths, the outlaws dropped their gun belts and moved back. In every eye was the hot unspoken promise that at the first moment of inattention, vengeance would be swift.

  On the ground beyond Lupo, Dandy was groaning and stirring with returning consciousness. Molly helped him sit up. He stared around dazedly until he discovered the bounty hunter. His eyes went wide.

  "You! What are you doing here?"

  "Trying to save your worthless hide, you double-crossing rat—but only for Molly's sake. If it weren't for her there's nothing I'd enjoy more than leaving you to the mercy of this pack of coyotes masquerading as wolves."

  Anger flared in Molly's eyes and she spat furiously, "You ought to be ashamed, talking like that to Dandy after all he's done for you. Who were you? A nobody without even a name—or at least none you'd admit to. A saddle tramp living by his gun. Dandy took you in and treated you like one of the family. He helped you build an act, paid you for it, made you a star..."

  "And cheated me out of a fortune," the hunter growled. He glared at Dandy. "When you claim you gave the money back to the bank, I'm inclined to believe you. That's exactly the kind of stupid thing only you would be dumb enough to do. But don't think you're going to beat me out of my share of the reward."

  "Reward?" Apachito yelped, his avarice overcoming his fear for the moment. "What reward?"

  Shadrach rolled his eyes heavenward and cursed in a thick, choked voice.

  "The twenty-five thousand dollars the bank was offering for the return of its money," the hunter said, "which is plain outrageous. If they had to, they'd be tickled to death to pay a hundred thousand to get their five hundred thousand back, and that's what I planned to hold out for. I'd have gotten it, too, if this cheap crook hadn't spoiled the deal. Knowing Dandy, I'm willing to bet he didn't settle for peanuts, either. But whatever he got, I'm getting my share right now or I'll take it out of his thieving hide."

  Dandy's eyes were shuttling wildly. The hunter could almost see his mind spinning, whipping up a plausible story. Molly started to say something, caught Dandy's sharp look and subsided. Dandy scrambled to his feet.

  "Look, Nameless, I haven't gotten it yet. I swear to God I haven't gotten it. The only one at the bank with the authority to pay the reward money is Markert, the president, and he was out of town. He'd rushed off to El Paso for a new supply of cash so the bank could stay open and operating. They tried to telegraph him there, but the line is down somewhere east of Bowie and won't be repaired for days. He'll be back next week and that's when I'm to go back to Hangville and collect the reward money."

  "Then, little man," the hunter said grimly, "until next week you and I are going to be closer than two peas in a pod, and heaven help you if you try a sneak-out. When you ride back next week to collect, I'll be right beside you every foot of the way. Once my share is in my hand, we'll go our separate ways, and as far as I'm concerned, good riddance."

  "Crazy," Shadrach was mumbling. "He's got to be crazier than a steer in a patch of loco weed. He not only tips Apachito off to a reward he didn't even know about, but he even tells him how easy it will be to grab."

  The bounty hunter had shifted the rifle to his left hand. He squatted down slowly and reached out with his right hand for the gun Apachito had let fall. With the short handcuff chain connecting his wrists, reaching the pistol meant that for a moment the rifle had to be tipped downward, no longer pointing at Apachito's back.

  He caught the flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. Two of the more desperate outlaws were taking advantage of that moment to dive for their discarded guns. The hunter made a lightning snatch. His right hand caught up the pistol as his left triggered the rifle.

  The two shots thundered almost as one. The diving outlaws landed on their faces and lay unmoving, dead hands still reaching for the guns they would never use again. Still on his heels, the hunter grimly eyed the dead men's companions. None of them showed any inclination to follow the suicidal attempt. He got to his feet, the pistol now covering the outlaw chief while he laid the rifle across his arm and levered a fresh shell into the chamber.

  "Lupo, you brought our handcuffs so you've either got the keys or know where they are. Trot 'em out and unshackle my partner, over there. Then hand him the key to my cuffs and stand back."

  For a tense moment he thought the big man was going to lose all control of himself and make some kind of break. His small eyes burned with hate and his whole body trembled with the intensity of his emotions.

  Then slowly he reached into a pocket, brought out two small, flat keys and selected one. He moved carefully to the back of the gold wagon and reached behind the wheel. A moment later Shadrach stood up, massaging his wrists. Lupo handed him the second key, then backed away.

  Shadrach snatched Lupo's gun from the ground before sidling close enough to unlock the hunter's manacles with his left hand.

  "You pulled it off," he muttered so
ftly. "I never in the world thought you'd get away with it, but you did. I never figured these buzzards had enough respect for Apachito's authority to give up their guns because he tells them to."

  "Respect—hell!" the hunter snorted. "I was gambling on that skunk's being clever enough to protect himself with life insurance. It's my guess he's got a big chunk of everbody's share of loot stashed away in a hiding place somewhere. If they should let anything happen to him, their chances of ever finding that horde would be just about zero."

  "You're a whiz at coming up with the right answers, aren't you?" Shadrach said. "Now I've got a question I'd like to hear you answer. At the moment you've got this pack of desperadoes buffaloed, but every one is wetting his Long Johns for the chance to kill you. In case you haven't noticed, the sun has already set and night is closing in on us fast. So what do you plan to do, stand here pointing a gun at Apachito's belly button all night?"

  CHAPTER 19

  "If you hadn't been so busy making love to that wagon wheel," the hunter said sourly, "you might have noticed that second cabin back there. It has iron bars over the window and a heavy iron bolt on the outside of the door, so it's obviously a kind of jail. Probably it's where Apachito kept prisoners until they were ransomed or until he was ready to dispose of them one way or another."