Close Call

by Clinton Spurr

  “Shall I relight the lamp?” Paula asked at length.

  “Sure,” he told her, and waited tensely until light once more filled the kitchen. He sighed then, staring at his prisoners. “You two are a liability,” he said thinly.

  “Then turn us loose,” Carver rasped.

  Lassiter grinned tightly. “That’s the last thing I’d do,” he told them. “I’m making progress now.”

  “You’ll never take Milton. He’s too smart for that.”

  “Do you figure you can still hold these two here without trouble?” Lassiter asked the girl.

  “I’ll hold them as long as you need me to,” she retorted. “But what are you planning now, Dane? You can’t go out there with half the town looking for you.”

  “I’ve got to find the Doc,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve got the feeling something’s happened to him. He ought to be back by now.”

  “Where are you going to look for him?” Paula asked.

  “I’d better check with the mayor. It’s still Frank Marshall, huh?”

  “Yes. You know where he lives! But why don’t I run along there to check? It’ll be a lot safer than you risking your life out there with every man in town trying to collect that price on your head.”

  “I’ll be the one who takes the chances, not you,” he told her. “If Milton is on the street he may take the opportunity to do something about you if he sees you. Me, I can start shooting if I come up against him.”

  Her face showed that she was scared, and Lassiter thinned his lips as he crossed to the prisoners and bent to examine the knots he’d tied. He satisfied himself that the men couldn’t get loose, and then moved to the door.

  “I’ll be as quick as I can, Paula,” he told her gently. “I won’t ever forget your part in helping me.”

  She nodded soundlessly, and her eyes were bright as they regarded him. Lassiter smiled encouragingly, then departed, and he exhaled sharply as he left the house by the front door and sneaked away through the shadows.

  He stood in a doorway along the street and studied his surroundings. It seemed to him that the townsmen had soon given up looking for him. There was no one to be seen anywhere on the street, but he did not allow himself to be fooled by appearances. He could not afford to take chances.

  When he moved on he kept to the shadows wherever possible, and made his way to Frank Marshall’s store. There was a frown on his face as he reached the building. He didn’t know what could be holding the doctor. Weller knew that speed was essential if Milton were to be taken before more trouble occurred. He circled to the rear of the building and saw lights in the kitchen and the upper windows.

  Trying the back door, Lassiter was relieved when it opened to his touch, and he held his hand on his gun as he entered a store room and moved to the inner door that led to the storekeeper’s apartments. He went through and came upon Mrs Marshall in the kitchen, preparing supper. The woman turned at the sound of his entrance, and froze, her face betraying her sudden fear.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Mrs Marshall,” Lassiter told her. “I want to talk to your husband, and the Doc.”

  “Doctor Weller ain’t here,” she faltered, her face paling.

  “He’s been here!” Lassiter spoke quickly.

  “No. We haven’t seen him. What do you want with my husband?”

  “Where is he? I’ve got to talk to him.”

  “He’s in the parlour working on his ledgers.”

  “Perhaps you’ll lead the way. And don’t worry. I’m not here to cause any trouble. I want to stop trouble, if that’s possible.”

  Her face showed that she did not believe him, but she preceded him to the parlour, and when they entered she hurried to her husband’s side.

  Frank Marshall was a man in his fifties, tall and thin, with a thick moustache concealing his thin upper lip. He had sunken brown eyes, and when he spotted Lassiter his eyes narrowed and took on a brightness that could have been fear or cold nerve. He came to his feet quickly, one arm going protectively around his wife’s shoulders.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “I’ve got to talk to you,” Lassiter retorted, his hand still on the butt of his gun. “Mrs Marshall tells me the Doc ain’t been here to see you.”

  “I haven’t seen the Doc today,” Marshall retorted. “What’s this all about?”

  “It’s a long story, and I’ve got the feeling that it’ll have to wait. Something must have happened to the Doc, and I’m worried about him.”

  “You better do some explaining. Most of the men of this town have been out in the past two days, looking for you.”

  “Give me a chance. I’ve got to explain. The Judge has gone to Junction City to fetch the US Marshal. But not to arrest me. I ain’t guilty of murder. The Doc was on his way here to see you about half an hour ago to tell you the whole story, and to get you to act.”

  “You better start giving me some details,” Marshall said. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” Lassiter explained tersely, giving the man some idea of what had been happening, and he saw incredulity show itself in the town mayor’s thin cheeks. Several times Marshall shook his head, and when Lassiter finally lapsed into silence, the mayor took a deep breath.

  “That’s the hell of a tale you’ve brought to my door,” he said doubtfully. “Do you expect me to believe it?”

  “You don’t have to take my word for it,” Lassiter retorted. “Come along to the Doc’s house and hear what Paula Hendrik has got to say. You can take the word of the Judge’s daughter, surely. But apart from that, if I was what they say I am, would I come here to you with such a story? What could I hope to gain from it?”

  “You got nothing to lose, and that’s for sure, with a murder hanging around your neck. You could be desperate enough to try anything.”

  “What about my father?” Lassiter’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “You knew him most of his life, didn’t you? Well he was jumped and murdered less than a week ago. It was all part of the same plot. I don’t have to argue with you to make you realize that something is wrong around here.”

  “And what do you figure happened to Doc Weller?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell gonna find out. He saw there was something wrong, and he’s tried to do something about it. I can only figure it out that on his way here he must have met Buck Milton. Milton told me earlier today that he was gonna have to kill the Doc, Wyman the deputy, who is dead now, the Judge and Paula. It looks to me like he’s got two of the four now, and the Judge would be dead now if he hadn’t left town today.”

  “I don’t see how you can make anything out of such a story, Lassiter,” Marshall said slowly. “Okay, so I’ll have an open mind for a spell. What is it you want me to do now?”

  “Get the townsmen off my neck and make arrangements for Milton to be jailed until this can be sorted out. If you put Milton and those two deputies in jail then I’ll surrender to you and go to jail myself until the truth can be sorted out. I can’t say any more than that, Marshall. It’s my neck that’s in the noose, but I’m willing to take my chances to bring this business to an end.” The mayor’s face seemed to have cleared a little, and Lassiter hoped he had partly convinced the man. But Marshall shook his head slowly.

  “I’d be exceeding my powers as the mayor by arresting any of the lawmen of this town,” he said.

  “You’re gonna hate yourself for the rest of your life if anything else happens because you didn’t have the nerve to throw them in jail,” Lassiter retorted. “Snap Wyman was shot dead at nightfall. Milton said he’d kill him. The Doc has disappeared, and for all we know he may now be dead. Are you gonna wait until Paula Hendrik is murdered, then the Judge?”

  “This is a fantastic tale that you’ve brought me,” Marshall protested.

  “Check it out then. Talk to my brother Frank and Charlie Logan. They’re both in jail. Talk with Paula Hendrik, and the two men she’s holding prisoner. Talk with
the Doc, if you can find him and he’s still alive!”

  “All these people are in sympathy with you. I wouldn’t be able to accept anything that they told me.”

  “The two deputies then. I’m holding them in the Doc’s house. He told me to keep them there. We’ve got to find the Doc. He must be in trouble.”

  “I don’t know what to think, Lassiter! But I can see that I just can’t do nothing! I don’t see what you could gain from coming in here to lie about this. But I want to see the Doc first and talk to him. I’d take his word on anything.”

  “So go with me, and bring a gun in case Milton shows up. I’ve looked for him around, but there’s no sign of him.”

  “I want to talk to those two deputies you’re holding in the Doc’s house,” Marshall said.

  “Come on then. Too much time has been wasted already!” Lassiter turned to the door immediately, eager to get something done, and when he glanced back he saw the town mayor following him. He sighed with relief. It looked as if things were beginning to move at last.

  Marshall strapped on a gunbelt before they left the house, and Lassiter wondered in the back of his mind if the mayor had plans to take him when he was unprepared. But he had to stand the risk. He knew time was running out for him. Milton was around somewhere, and the sheriff would know by now that Dane Lassiter had got out of the well. No doubt Milton would put two and two together and come up with the right answer on the escape, and it could go badly for Paula if the lawman got hold of her again.

  They went across the back lots to the doctor’s house, moving slowly and carefully, but there were no signs of townsmen around, and for that Lassiter was thankful. The last thing he wanted was to have to trade lead with honest men. They came eventually to the rear of the house where Paula was holding the two deputies, and Lassiter started to open the door, but Marshall reached out and brushed his arm aside.

  “I’ll look into this,” the town mayor said thinly. “You just stand by and let me do the talking!”

  “Okay,” Lassiter whispered hoarsely. “It’s your show.”

  He stepped back as Marshall opened the back door, then reached out quickly as the man started across the threshold.

  “Hold it,” he rapped. “There’s no light on! Something’s wrong!”

  Before Marshall could even turn away a gun blasted from inside the kitchen and the red bloom of the flash speared through the darkness. The town mayor uttered a harsh cry and twisted sharply to the ground, leaving Lassiter to back away hurriedly into the shadows, his gun leaping into his hand. Lassiter stood then, instead of running. Something bad had happened here in the time he’d been away to get Marshall. Paula must have been overpowered in some way, and the two crooked deputies were armed once more...

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LASSITER’S ears rang with the crash of the shot, and he clenched his teeth as he waited. He saw a movement in the doorway of the house, then caught a glimpse of a man bending over the groaning figure of the mayor.

  “It ain’t Lassiter,” someone said.

  “That’s right,” Lassiter rasped. “I’m here if you want me.”

  The man straightened, and Lassiter dropped to one knee. The next instant another shot was fired, and he felt the bullet clip his hatbrim. He fired in reply, and saw the figure go sprawling backwards into the kitchen under the hammerblow of the speeding bullet. Moving forward, he caught a faint glimpse of another figure, but he dared not shoot again for fear of catching Paula. She had to be in there somewhere.

  A volley of shots tore through the doorway, but Lassiter was to one side and wasn’t touched. Judging his time, he waited until the gun stopped firing, then went forward quickly, levelling his gun, his eyes narrowed to pick up details. He saw a figure indistinctly, heard the metallic sounds of a gun being reloaded, and called sharply.

  “Throw down your gun or you’re a dead man!”

  He knew he didn’t have long. Townsmen would soon be showing up, and he couldn’t hang around for their arrival. He saw the man begin to lift his gun again, and he clenched his teeth and fired a single shot that blasted after the dying echoes still clinging to the night over the town. Through the flaring gun flame he saw Hank Boswell go over sideways, and the man fell heavily. He also saw the other deputy stretched out on the thresh-hold.

  “Paula?” Lassiter called the girl’s name, moving into the kitchen. The smell of gunsmoke was powerful and it seemed to cling in his throat and rasp through his lungs. He heard a groan and turned quickly to check the two deputies. Carver was dead, stretched out on his back with a bullet through the centre of his chest. It was Boswell who had groaned, and Lassiter moved to the man’s side, intent upon learning what had happened. He kicked aside the gun Boswell had dropped, finding it with his foot as he moved in, and then he crouched beside the wounded deputy.

  “You got the luck of Satan himself, Lassiter,” Boswell said weakly. “Who in hell was with you?”

  “I ain’t got time to answer questions, Boswell. How bad are you hit?”

  “I’m done for, I reckon. You’re too good a shot, Lassiter.”

  “What happened here? Where’s the girl?”

  “Milton came in. He freed us and gave us guns. We had to wait for you to come back. He took the girl with him and went off.”

  “How did he know she was here?”

  “He didn’t. He was after the Doc. Weller was in the office a short time ago and he took the girl with him. Milton was after them both. When he walked in, the girl figured he was you. I reckon you’re gonna be too late to stop Milton, Lassiter. He’s always been one jump ahead of you. But I’m played out! I’m cashing in my chips.”

  Boswell’s voice had been getting fainter as he talked, and now he fell silent, and as Lassiter pushed himself erect he heard the deputy’s last breath hissing through the tense atmosphere.

  There was no time to lose, Lassiter knew. Paula was in trouble now. He started to the door, afraid that the townsmen would arrive before he could get away. He paused by Marshall’s fallen figure and bent over the town mayor. To his relief the man groaned, and his eyes flickered open. His face was pale in the shadows.

  “I heard what Boswell said to you, Lassiter,” the mayor said in agonised tones. “I guess you’ve been telling the truth. But what can you do now? I hear men coming. They’ll shoot on sight at you.”

  “When they come upon you, tell them what’s happened, and with any luck we’ll be able to put a stop to Milton. I’ll get away now before there are any more misunderstandings. But I’ll need help, and you better have some men take over the law office and jail. God knows what we’ll find there when we get in.”

  Marshall was pressing a hand to his shoulder, and Lassiter was relieved that the town mayor hadn’t been killed. He could hear voices in the background, demanding and questioning, and he pushed himself erect and slipped away in the opposite direction. His lips were thin, his teeth clenched as he hurried through the shadows to gain the street. He wanted to lay his hands on Buck Milton, and nothing would stop him now!

  Such was his determination that Lassiter found himself running to get to the rear of the buildings on the opposite side of the street. Twice he had to halt and wait in the shadows while men hurried by, intent upon finding the cause of the shooting. He found the back lots and moved towards the jail, and now he forgot the pain in his arm and the ache in his heart. He carried a picture of Paula in the forefront of his mind, and there was anguish boiling up inside him because the girl was in trouble.

  When he gained the shelter of the wall of the jail, he looked through the rear window, but the lights had been extinguished and there was nothing for him. He called urgently, hoping someone would reply, but silence ensued as the echoes of his voice died away and that seemed ominous to him. He went quickly to the front of the jail, peering along the street when he reached the sidewalk, and there were little groups of men moving around, calling and searching.

  Lassiter didn’t know if they were after him or not, but he
didn’t care now. He tried the door of the jail and it was locked. The front windows were dark, and he realized that Milton must have been inside since his last visit. He looked around, and for the first time since he’d started fighting back he was indecisive.

  He moved back to cover while he thought it over. What was Milton likely to do with Paula? Where would he take her? Would he move out of town to kill her quietly? His teeth clicked together as he considered. Where else would Paula be but in her own home?

  The thought frightened him, for there had been no lights in the Judge’s house when he’d come by. He figured Milton wouldn’t leave town. The sheriff knew he had to kill all opposition before he was safe from discovery, and Dane Lassiter was the biggest obstacle to his crooked success. But the two deputies had been left behind to take care of him, and Lassiter thinned his lips as he tried to decide what Milton had done.

  He heard men coming along the street, and he hoped that Marshall had talked to them. The town mayor could give him a good word, and that would take the danger out of being around town. He was restricted by the fact that he had the town against him, and that was Milton’s greatest advantage.

  Three men paused at the door of the jail and tried it. When they couldn’t get in they began cursing, and Lassiter listened intently, trying to pick up threads of the situation. Suddenly a gun blasted at the other end of the town, and the three turned and went running towards the sound. Lassiter thinned his lips. Now what was happening?

  He started back along the alley to the rear of the jail, intending to go to Paula’s home, but a voice called from the darkness, demanding his identity. Lassiter halted and tightened his grip on his gun, and the next instant two men materialised before him. They were carrying guns and covering him.

  “Any signs of Lassiter?” Lassiter demanded quickly.