Close Call

by Clinton Spurr

  “You’ve got to talk to my father before anything else happens,” the girl retorted. “He’s aware that something is wrong in this county, and you can help him better by putting your information before him.”

  “I don’t fancy making a detour,” Lassiter said. “As soon as he gets back to town, Milton is gonna start making plans to kill some people. We’ve got to be there before he can carry out any of those plans. We’ve got to stick real close to him, Paula.”

  “He’ll kill you if he finds you out of that hole in the ground,” she said.

  “He’d kill you too, if he knew you’d got me out,” he retorted. He sighed heavily as he caught the expression of fear which crossed her face. “Don’t worry,” he told her heavily. “While I’ve got the rifle he won’t take us. I won’t let him get me the next time.”

  They rode on, and the afternoon was dragging away. Lassiter was aware of his hunger and thirst, and although Paula had a canteen of water with her he didn’t stop or ask for a drink. He kept alert, afraid of being taken by surprise again, and they eventually drew near to Bar C. He thought about Yancey Clark as they made a slight detour around the ranch, and when they were safely in cover of the stand of timber where he had waited for Yancey the previous night with Logan and Shirlton, Lassiter called a halt.

  “I’m thinking it would be a lot easier for me to take Yancey into town with us,” he said to the girl. “He must be a mighty worried man right now, knowing that I eluded the sheriff at Cross L last night. He’ll know I’ll be after him for leading Charlie and Pete into an ambush. I’m wondering if he’s at home.”

  “Don’t stop, Dane,” the girl said quietly. “We’ve got a long way to go, and trouble could start long before we reach town.”

  “I know, but you could go on home from here and tell your father what’s happened. There’ll be no trouble for you, Paula. Milton didn’t know you saw us, or that you’ve got me out of that trap. I’d feel a lot happier, too, if I had Yancey as my prisoner. He’s a weak link as far as the sheriff is concerned. So long as you put your father on his guard then Milton shouldn’t be able to get away with anything.”

  “I don’t like the idea of leaving you,” she replied slowly.

  “Nothing can go wrong now,” he said firmly. “I’ve got your rifle, and I won’t be taken unawares. All I want is Yancey under my gun. Then we’ll have something against Milton that will stand up.”

  “Let me wait here with you,” she pleaded. “I’ll feel a lot easier if I do. You’re in so much trouble, Dane.” He shook his head slowly as he studied her intent face. Her blue eyes were filled with worry. He felt his emotions begin to throb, and he thinned his lips.

  “I’m afraid of making the wrong decision,” he admitted. “If anything goes wrong because of anything I do then I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

  “Well you can always pick up Yancey Clark,” she retorted. “But if my father or anyone else is shot by the sheriff there’s nothing you can do about that.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “I guess you’re right. But I figured it would make things easier if I had some evidence to back up my story.”

  “Don’t worry about it. My father has his own ideas now, and I think they go well with yours.”

  Lassiter sighed. “Let’s mount up again and push on to town,” he said, and they went on...

  The evening was well advanced by the time they sighted Pommel, and Lassiter reined up and stared ahead, his eyes narrowed and bleak. Paula stopped at his side, and he grinned tightly as he glanced at her.

  “This is where we part company for a bit,” he told her. “You ride on in now and tell your father everything.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “There’s nothing I can do. I can’t even move around until it gets dark. But soon as the sun has gone down I’ll come to your place.”

  “All right. I guess my father needs word of this as soon as possible. There’s no telling what the sheriff may do now he thinks you’re safely out of the way.”

  He leaned across to her and she put her arms around his neck. Her face showed anxiety for a moment, but then she smiled bravely.

  “Stay out of sight until it’s dark,” she said. “If this does go as we plan it now, there will be a need for a good man with a gun. That’ll be you, Dane.”

  “All right. I’ll be on your doorstep the minute it’s safe for me to move. Now you get along and don’t go past the law office. Cut around town and get to your house from the other side. When you do get there, stay there, and have a sixgun ready for me when I arrive.” She nodded and smiled encouragingly, and then she rode on. Lassiter sat his mount and stared after her, prey to many fears, and filled with a great thankfulness because she had found him earlier. He stifled a shudder as he imagined what it would have been like if he’d still been down the well when Milton returned next day!

  After the girl was gone from sight he moved to cover and off-saddled, letting the horse graze. He felt gaunted inside, taut and filled with a growing nervousness that had never been apparent in him before. He sat in the declining sunlight and thought over the situation, and he figured that a showdown was imminent.

  He felt rested, but was still very hungry by the time shadows started across the range. He caught the glimmer of lanterns beginning to burn in town, and a sense of loneliness assailed him. This time last week, he thought grimly, his father had still been alive, and he blamed himself for not being on hand to help when his father had needed him.

  Hank Boswell had killed his father! He pictured the tough deputy’s face, and he made a silent vow as he got up and prepared to go on to town. He swung into his saddle and let the horse move on, and he couldn’t help thinking of the previous night, when Charlie Logan and Pete Shirlton had been siding him.

  The shadows had thickened considerably by the time he neared the rear of the Judge’s house, and he left his horse well back and walked in closer, carrying the rifle he had taken from Paula. He felt more nervous now than he could ever remember being. He was still at a disadvantage, being as he was outside of the law and wanted for murder. But he had the feeling that he was being pushed by fate into this. Events were shaping beyond his circle of awareness, and he was merely a pawn in the grip of the situation.

  He moved cautiously now, peering around intently, ready to sell his life dearly if it should come to the final showdown. He merged with the shadows at the rear of the house, and now his mind was empty of all thought and his instincts were flaring, in command of his every action.

  There was no light in the kitchen of the house, and for a moment he paused and frowned. Mrs Annan should be busy there right now. He pressed closer, steadying himself, and reached the kitchen door. It did not open to his touch, and he slid away again, like a nervous dog scared away from a likely meal. He began to circle the house, and reached the far corner, intending to make for the street where he could see the front of the house. As he reached the corner a figure walked around it, and they collided heavily.

  Lassiter was on edge, his nerves taut, every fibre of his body expecting trouble and ready for it. But he was just as shocked as the man he met, and he heard a smothered curse and felt a stiffening in the stranger. Quick as a flash Lassiter swung the rifle, and smashed the barrel against the side of the man’s head. There was a louder curse, and a cry of pain, and Lassiter struck again, his teeth clenched, his face contorted with effort.

  He winced at the dull thud of the barrel connecting with the man’s skull, and he stood motionless for long moments after the man had fallen into a heap.

  Lassiter could feel his heart pounding, and he took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. Some of the tension left him, and he put aside the rifle and bent cautiously over the inert man. It was too dark to see the man’s face clearly, but there was a deputy star on the shirt front turned up to Lassiter. He frowned when he saw the badge, for this man was neither Snap Wyman nor Hank Boswell.

  For a moment indecision held Lassiter. Then he bent and took
the man’s gunbelt from him, buckling it around his own waist and pulling the .45 to check it. He felt easier then, and used the man’s neckerchief to tie his hands behind his back. The man was still unconscious, and Lassiter left him lying and went around the house to check the front.

  He found no lights at all burning in the house, and already there was fear in his mind. He tried the front door and found it locked, and a niggling pang of worry began to torture him. Had Milton struck already?

  There was nothing for it but to go back to the deputy, and he moved cautiously around the house, sticking to the shadows. He heard the man groaning as he arrived, and bent over him, shaking him powerfully, holding the sixgun pressed against the side of his neck.

  “What happened?” the man demanded in unsteady tones.

  “Just stay quiet and answer my questions only,” Lassiter retorted. “Who are you?”

  “Toll Carver!” The man was badly shocked, and he was trying to bring his hands around to the front. “What the hell am I tied up for?”

  “I tied you, for your own safety. Just listen to me. I’ve got this gun jammed against you, and if you don’t pay heed it may go off.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Dane Lassiter!”

  The man stiffened at the name, and Lassiter smiled grimly. He was becoming too well known around here, he thought remotely.

  “I thought you’d have heard about me,” he said. “Now tell me what you’re doing wearing a deputy star. There are only two deputies around here and you’re neither.”

  “One of them was killed a short time ago, and I’m taking his place.” The man’s tones registered reluctance, and Lassiter felt a pang go through him.

  “Who was killed?” he demanded hoarsely.

  “Wyman.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “Someone shot him in the back. The sheriff is still investigating!”

  Lassiter set his teeth into his bottom lip as he took in the news. Paula’s cousin was dead! He had been the Judge’s watchdog, and now he was gone.

  “What are you doing wandering around the Judge’s house? How come there are no lights here?”

  “I’m just checking that nobody is prowling around,” Carver retorted.

  “You’re one of the sheriff’s men!” Lassiter tried to keep his voice steady, but shock had hit him hard, and he was feeling the faint pricklings of premonition. He wouldn’t take on another deputy unless he was sure of him.

  “You’re a wanted killer! What are you doing prowling around here in the dark?” There was sharp suspicion in Carver’s voice. “The sheriff said he left you safely tucked away.”

  “So you are on his side. Where’s the Judge and his daughter?”

  “Ain’t they at home?” The deputy’s voice had steadily got stronger. “You better light out of here fast unless you want more trouble than you can handle.”

  “Seems to me you’re in more trouble than is good for you,” Lassiter snapped. “Get up on your feet, mister. We’re gonna take a walk, and if you make a sound it’ll be your last on earth.”

  “You can’t take me away,” the man rasped. “I’m a deputy sheriff doing my duty.”

  “I want to know where the Judge and his daughter are,” Lassiter said. “Tell me that and you might live to see the sun come up tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know where they are. I ain’t in the habit of mixing with their kind.” The reply was sullen now, and Lassiter knew he would get nothing more.

  Jerking the man to his feet, Lassiter pushed him away from the house. It was obvious to him that the Judge and Paula were in some kind of a fix or they would be at home. With Snap Wyman dead, the sheriff had come one step closer to silencing all who might be aware of his crooked business. Lassiter knew horror for a moment, and his fears for the Judge and the girl were only too real as he considered his next move.

  “If I don’t report back to the law office in a few minutes there will be a search party out for me,” Carver said through his teeth as Lassiter hurried him along away from town.

  “I’ll go in when I’ve settled you and tell Milton where you are,” Lassiter retorted. They reached his horse and he used his lariat to bind the deputy tightly. When he had finished, the man was completely helpless. “I’m going back to town now, and if I hear one sound out of you at any time I’ll come back here and crack your skull with the butt of your own gun,” Lassiter told him.

  “Just stay quiet until I get back. I’m in no mood for trouble.”

  The man made no reply, and Lassiter pushed himself to his feet and began to retrace his steps, this time making for the rear of the law office. He glanced back once or twice at the spot where he had left his prisoner, and there was a hardness in his mind as he wondered what had happened since Paula left him just before sundown. He pictured the girl’s lovely face, and a pang struck through him as anxiety clutched at his mind.

  He drew his gun as he closed on the rear of the jail. A lantern threw yellow light through a wide barred window, and he moved through the shadows towards it, peering around and forcing himself to concentrate. There was a turmoil of thoughts in the back of his mind that tried to take over, but he held them at bay. When he reached the window he flattened himself against the wall and risked exposing himself to the light in order to glance into the cells.

  At first he could see nothing, but he craned forward and spotted a couple of prisoners in the nearer cells. The window overlooked the narrow passage between two rows of cells, and he could see the heavy wooden door at the far end which opened into the law office itself. The prisoners were in adjoining cells, talking in low tones, and Lassiter didn’t know them. He looked for other occupants, and saw a couple of blanket covered figures farther along the row. Both figures were unmoving, and although he couldn’t be sure, he was certain in his own mind that they were his brother and Charlie Logan. A harsh sigh escaped him as he turned away. There were no other occupants, and he wondered why he should have imagined that the Judge and Paula had been thrown in jail.

  He found the alley at the side of the jail and eased along it, gun ready, teeth clenched and his nerves set for action. He came to another lighted window, and peered through it into the law office. His pale eyes glittered when he saw Milton seated behind his desk and Boswell standing by the street door. His lips tightened when he saw Paula seated on a chair before the desk, and the girl’s face was hard and defiant in the lamplight.

  Lassiter took a fresh grip on his gun as he stared through the window. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but Milton was talking in bullying fashion, and Paula was white faced and harassed. There was a grin on Hank Boswell’s face, and Lassiter felt his gorge rise as he stared at this renegade who had murdered his father. He was tempted to go in and confront them, but he feared the consequences. He needed the Judge on his side, and until he had located the man there was little he could do.

  Paula seemed to be in some kind of trouble with the law, and for a moment Lassiter figured that somehow Milton had got the information that Dane Lassiter had escaped from the well out at the Redfem place. But he told himself that wild horses couldn’t drag that kind of information from Paula, and he figured that this questioning had to do with Snap Wyman’s death.

  Hank Boswell suddenly said something to Milton, who nodded sharply, and the deputy opened the street door and departed. Lassiter narrowed his eyes and thrust out his underlip. He was taken by a sudden temptation, and he knew he couldn’t deny it. He moved to the street and peered out from the alley, spotting Boswell moving along the sidewalk towards the Judge’s house.

  Slipping on to the sidewalk, Lassiter started after the deputy, and there was a rising desire in him now that needed all his control to fight and beat. He wanted to kill Boswell! The desire ached inside his brain, and he could feel wild impulses leaping through him. He quickened his pace, feeling like a mountain lion moving in after its prey. An eagerness seized hold of him and he trembled as he held the gun ready for action. It was t
ime he started shooting! He knew that. A couple of swift shots would end this treachery and violence, and then someone else could pick up the pieces. But he was already labelled killer, and if something went wrong in this showdown he would be stuck with the tag for the rest of his life.

  When Boswell paused on the sidewalk outside the Judge’s house Lassiter knew why the man had come. He was checking up on the new deputy! Lassiter caught his breath and closed in. No matter how he tried to fight down his impulses, he couldn’t make himself turn away from this. He wanted Hank Boswell, and this might be the only chance he’d get of taking the killer.

  Boswell kicked open the Judge’s gate and disappeared in the shadows around the house. Lassiter tightened his lips and moved forward. He was trembling with anticipation now, and there was a cold rage inside him that was completely foreign to his character. He had been a wild youngster, doing everything in the heat of the moment, and they had tagged a murder on to his reputation. But he had never plotted to kill anyone in his life, until now. He wanted Hank Boswell as he had never wanted to kill before, and nothing short of bloodshed would satisfy him.

  He checked the gun in his hand and stood in the shadows near the Judge’s gate. Twice he heard Boswell’s heavy voice calling to Carver, and then the deputy began cursing angrily when there was no reply. His stocky figure appeared on the path, and he came back towards the gate. As he drew nearer to where Lassiter stood in the shadows it was easy to see that he was not expecting trouble. Lassiter tightened his lips. This would be the start of the showdown. He knew he could start it easily enough, but what concerned him more was how it would finish. Death was stalking the town, bigger than Lassiter and Milton put together. Death was around, watching and waiting, and Death appeared to be the only certain winner.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LASSITER cocked his gun, the clicks sounding loud in the still silence, and he saw Boswell pause in midstride as he heard the sound. The deputy craned forward to peer in the direction of the sound, and Lassiter could feel all his hatred boiling up inside, his brain eager to send the signal to his trigger finger.