Gunpoint / Name on the Dodger, page 18
“You said you wouldn’t and it’s been seven years, so I guess you never will.”
“I won’t.”
“So I guess I can look forward to a hard time trying to settle anywhere around here.”
“Oh, you won’t be getting a grant around these parts, Wade. Hell no, not even if you came up with the ballot fee.” Yaeger grinned tightly. “You’re too valuable a man to stash away on some hard rock quarter section, wasting your talents.”
Slattery was very tense now, aware that Ricketts hadn’t taken his eyes off him for a second. “If you’ve any notion of my working for you ...”
“Why, that’s exactly what I had in mind. I want to put you on my payroll so you can help me get this town the way I want it.” Yaeger laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”
Slattery stood up. “Amazing the way you can read my mind, Sam.”
“Yeah, too bad I couldn’t read it before you pulled that gun on me in Laredo and made me eat crow in front of everyone.” Yaeger’s bantering tone was gone now. His eyes were brittle and deadly. He stabbed a thick finger in Slattery’s direction. “You’re going to work for me, Wade. I might even make you Deuce’s deputy. Be a laugh, eh, pinning a badge on you?”
He chuckled and picked up one of the papers he had been looking at when Ricketts had brought Slattery in. He tossed it onto the desk, turning it so Slattery could read it.
It was a wanted dodger, with his picture on it—a good clear one. But the words that took Slattery’s attention and turned his belly to ice were: Wanted For Murder. He read on and saw that he was wanted for the murder of Marshal John Curry. The reward had jumped to one thousand dollars.
“I didn’t kill Curry. A snake fell on him and spooked his hoss. He went over a cliff and broke his neck.”
Yaeger spread his arms wide. “I believe you, Wade. I’ll believe anything you tell me. But I’m not the one you have to convince. It’s this Marshal Ned Chisum who’s after you and some of the hard characters in this town. If they find out you’ve got a thousand dollars’ bounty on your head, your life won’t be worth a plugged nickel—to you.”
Slattery stared coldly into his eyes, saying nothing. “Luckily, this is the only dodger in town with your name on it.” As he spoke Yaeger quickly snatched the dodger from the desk, folded it and placed it in his inside jacket pocket. He patted the pocket. “It can stay right where I just put it, if you’re sensible. Otherwise, Deuce there might have to put it up somewheres, then move in on you and send for this Chisum. By the way, I heard he’s way up in Wyoming, but he don’t have to stay there. He could get down here fast enough if word was to reach him you’re here, Wade ... You getting the idea?”
The outlaw nodded, mouth stretched into a tight, thin line. “But why the hell would you want me? You’ve got Ricketts here, who’s always been faster than me, a dozen men I saw outside you can call on and likely more tucked away. You don’t need me, Sam.”
“Well, let’s say you’ve got some talents I figure I can use ... Oh, I’ll treat you fair, Wade. Put that Laredo thing behind us. It’s far enough back now not to matter, I reckon. The future is what counts. And you’ve got one only for as long as you do what I say.” He tapped his jacket pocket significantly, smile fading, voice heavy. “It’s important you savvy that, Wade, mighty important.”
Slattery was silent for a while, then he sighed. “All right. Don’t see that I have a choice. But I didn’t kill that marshal. He died accidental.”
“Well, if it bothers you that much, all you gotta do is go find this Chisum and explain ...”
Ricketts laughed and Yaeger grinned crookedly. “But I’m sure you’re smart enough to see you’d be better off staying with me, Wade.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Yaeger got very slowly to his feet and his eyes were like gun muzzles as he stared into Slattery’s hard face.
“Whatever I tell you!” he gritted.
“I’m sorry, Jim, there’s nothing I can do. I have to go back on our deal.”
Rance studied Slattery’s face closely and soberly. “Yaeger crowdin’ you?”
“Some. He’s got a dodger with my name on it—a picture, too. They think I murdered Curry.”
Rance whistled softly. “Makes it tough for you all round, I’d say.”
“Yeah. Too bad. But I ought’ve known I’ve had too much good luck lately. I’m more than due my share of the other kind. But that’s my worry ... What about you, Jim? Will you bring another wagon train of settlers out here now?”
Rance sighed. “Yaeger says he’ll send a couple of men back with me. Doesn’t seem to care if I tell ’em what’s in store. And I guess he’s right. What’s he asking? Five or six dollars for a chance to get a hundred and sixty acres free? The kind of folk who want to move out here’ll jump at the chance. They’ll sell off something extra and put the money aside ready to pay out when they arrive. It won’t stop settlers from wanting to come, Wade. If I don’t lead ’em, someone else will, maybe someone who doesn’t know the country as well. Our deal’s off, but I can still make a little before winter.”
“How about your leg?”
“Well, the doctor told me it’ll likely hurt one way or t’other for the rest of my life. I can put up with it till winter, I guess and afterwards it might even improve.”
“Yaeger’s smart. He’s covered himself by paying for that bridge. Even if a real lawman came in, I doubt much could be done.”
“No. Sam Yaeger’s got this town over a barrel and a lot of folk with it.”
“Including me.” Slattery began to build a cigarette. “You staying for the ballot? It’s tomorrow I hear.”
“I can’t look these pilgrims in the face, Wade. I feel I’ve let ’em down. Oh, sure, I know, Yaeger sprang this on all of us but I feel uneasy. I’m heading back as soon as I can, likely tonight.” He lowered his voice. “Despite what you said about real law, I just might notify the Marshal’s Office. They must be able to do something. I know it kind of puts you on a spot, but I feel I’ve got to do something to protect the settlers I bring out here.”
“You could take ’em someplace else.”
Rance’s gaze roved over Slattery’s face. “That what you’d rather I do?”
Slattery smiled wryly. “Be better than bringing in a marshal where he could get a look at me.”
“Yeah, problem, ain’t it? S’pose I can convince him you never killed Curry ...?”
“Wouldn’t like your chances, but even so, there’s still bank robbery charges against me.”
“But you wouldn’t hang. Mebbe a few years in the pen and then it’d all be behind you.”
Slattery shook his head. “Rather take my chances than be behind bars. I’ve been there. Never again.”
Rance looked really worried. “Wade ... I have to follow my conscience. If I do anythin’, I’ll try to get word to you, somehow. All right?”
Slattery grinned crookedly, lit his cigarette, then gripped Rance’s hand. “Good luck, Jim. You don’t owe me a thing.”
“Hell, man, don’t put it that way!”
“You know what I mean. We’ll both do what we have to ... Adios, amigo.”
“Lonnie, I don’t care if we never get a parcel of land, you are not selling my oak chest of drawers for any two miserable dollars!”
Laura’s face was tight with anger, eyes ablaze, fists clenched at her sides.
Lonnie glared back. “Two dollars is the goin’ price. It’ll give us enough to get our names in the ballot.” He started to pull the chest from the back of the wagon.
“Lonnie, my parents gave me that chest and if you don’t take your hands off it this instant, I swear I’ll hit you with the first thing I pick up! I mean it!”
He knew she did, too, and slammed the chest violently back into the wagon. There was a prolonged screeching sound and his face went pale when he saw the ragged scratch on the polished wood caused by a protruding nail head in the side of the wagon. Coughing to cover the sound and hoping she wouldn’t notice, he turned to her, dusting off his hands.
“All right, then just how the hell are we going to raise money for the ballot? Entries close at sundown and that’s a bare two hours away. Well, Miss Smarty? Any ideas?”
Laura was still angry, but followed him as he strode away from the wagon, getting her as far from the damaged chest as possible. “We don’t have much in the way of decent furniture, Lonnie. Perhaps we could sell one of the mules … I mean, the wagon won’t have to go much farther and ...”
“We’ll need them damned jug headed critters on the land for haulin’ timber and a plow. I can’t sell ’em off till I see what kind of parcel we end up with.”
“What about that pocket watch of yours.”
He snorted. “Cost my old man two dollars brand new. Wouldn’t get two cents for it in this lousy town.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Then do we have to stay? Can’t we move on somewhere else?”
He stared blankly at her, then slowly shook his head. “Women! Why don’t you talk sense, Laura? You’re no damn help at all... Ah, I’ll find the money somehow. You stay here. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Where are you going?” she called after him as he stormed off. But he didn’t reply and refused to look around even after she called him twice more.
She bit her lower lip, then returned to the rear of the wagon and examined the oaken chest, her lips compressing when she found the long, fresh scratch.
“Oh Lonnie Coleman, I could kill you!”
Slattery was standing on the porch of the hall where signs told settlers they could enter the land ballot, to be drawn promptly at nine the next morning, for a fee of five dollars, payable in advance. Afterwards, there would be no arguments or swapping of titles.
Yaeger had told Slattery to lend a hand with the ballot, knowing full well it would bring him into contact with the settlers. They mostly gave him a cool reception. The word was that he had hired out to Yaeger, but nobody knew why.
Slattery suddenly straightened as he saw Lonnie Coleman, obviously angry, striding purposefully towards the saloon. Frowning, he watched the man slam his way through the batwings and enter.
Moving forward, Slattery stepped down from the porch and ignoring the ‘Hey!’ from Yaeger’s man at the ballot table, he hurried across to the saloon.
Inside, he waited a moment for his sight to adjust to the gloom. Lonnie was just pulling out a chair at a table where a game of poker was in progress, presided over by an obvious house gambler, a slim, neat, sharp-faced man deft with the cards. Slattery bought a cold beer and wandered over, hat pushed to the back of his head.
“Entered the ballot yet, Lonnie?” he asked quietly as the man put a stack of small—very small—change before him on the table.
Lonnie lifted his head and scowled. “I’m tryin’ to raise the payoff your boss wants right now!”
Slattery looked at the hard-eyed players, his gaze coming to rest on the house man. “Still got that special sleeve frame for holdin’ the spare aces, Jake?”
The man’s black eyes slitted and his tongue flicked out and moistened his flabby lips. “No call for that, Wade.”
Slattery slid his gaze back to Lonnie. “You can’t win her, Lonnie. How much are you short? I’ll give you the money.”
“No thanks.”
“I’ll lend it to you then ... How much do you need?” Lonnie jumped to his feet, already angrier than he ought to have been, but filled with frustration after his argument with Laura. He spoke between gritted teeth.
“I want nothin’ from you!”
Slattery held up a placating hand. “Okay, okay, stick with your stupid pride, but it won’t get you in that ballot.” He gave the gambler one final look and turned to walk away. Lonnie lunged at him, grabbing his arms.
“Where the hell are you goin’? You goin’ to offer money to Laura?”
Slattery looked down at the hand on his arm until Lonnie removed it, then raised his eyes to the man’s congested face. “Figured she might show more sense. You’ve come all this way: it’d be stupid not to enter the ballot now.”
“Stay away from her!” Lonnie yelled and men at the table started to push back their chairs and move out of the way at the mad look on his face. “I know what you’re tryin’ to do! Make me look bad to her ...” He laughed without humor. “Bad-der I mean! You’ve already made me look foolish in her eyes.”
“You needed no help from me, Lonnie. Now calm down. Here ... Take the five dollars and the hell with you ... Don’t even tell Laura where you got it.”
It was the wrong move to make and as he held out the coin, Slattery recognized it, but it was too late. Lonnie stared down at it and when he lifted his face, his expression was murderous. He let out a strangled bleat and the next instant, was lifting his gun as men scattered.
Taken by surprise, Slattery flinched as a slug fanned past his face, leaving a red welt across his neck. Lonnie bared his teeth and spittle flew as he triggered again and again as Slattery dived for cover, upending a table. Bullets splintered the cheap wood. Slattery rolled away dragging iron, and Lonnie roared and ran right up to stand over him, thrusting the smoking gun barrel downwards.
Slattery had no choice: he knew he was dead if Lonnie squeezed the trigger one more time. His gun blasted and Lonnie Coleman lifted to his toes, gasping once as the bullet went in under the arch of his ribs and tore upwards, destroying vital organs. His eyes rolled upwards and his legs turned to rubber as he collapsed. He was dead before he hit the floor.
Slattery pushed to his knees and bent over the man, knowing it was futile. He sighed heavily, thumbed back his hat and slowly stood up, raking his eyes around the room, trying to control the shaking that threatened to engulf him.
“Even I’ll have to swear that was self-defense, Wade,” Jake, the gambler, said sourly.
Yaeger came out of his office, swiftly followed by Ricketts. Both demanded to know what had happened and Slattery told them quietly. The others backed him up.
Ricketts shrugged. “No trouble then. He asked for it.” Then he leered at Slattery. “Gives you a clear go at the woman now, huh?”
Slattery was still holding his six-gun. He slammed the barrel across the head of the gangling sheriff, knocking him to his hands and knees where he stayed, head hanging, blood dripping from his mouth.
Yaeger raised his hand and two men with sawed-off shotguns appeared from the shadows. “Don’t go hog-wild now, Wade. Everyone here’ll swear it was self-defense.”
“It damn well was, that’s why.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” Yaeger winked. “Of course, that was kind of a fool move, provoking him by offering that money.”
“I didn’t think it’d set him off like that. Someone’ll have to tell his wife.”
“You know her ...”
Slattery hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I don’t want to see her.”
Not game to face her, you mean, he told himself as he swung away and went out the side door of the saloon, feeling the shakes beginning to catch up with him.
Chapter Eight – Hell Town
AFTER DARK, SLATTERY knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to face up to Laura Coleman. His conscience was clear enough: he’d been trying to help Lonnie, and had had no intention of killing him.
He hadn’t even had the choice of wounding him; the man had been too close and too crazy for that. He’d had to stop him dead. Unfortunately, it had been literally ‘dead’.
Okay, it was no use going over all the arguments again. He had to go see Laura and tell them to her.
The wagons were camped out by the river, on some of the bottom land that would be drawn from the ballot box as part of the grant. He dodged around behind most of them, seeing Laura’s wagon set a little way back and glad there were no sympathizing women there. Likely they had been there all afternoon and now she was alone, wanting to be alone with her memories of Lonnie—and no doubt thinking about the future she faced alone.
He came out of the woods quietly enough, but stepped on a twig that snapped and she came to the rear of the wagon. She was silhouetted by a lamp burning behind her and he couldn’t see her face. But he saw the rifle she held and now brought up swiftly.
He held up his hands. “Whoa, Laura, it’s me, Wade.”
He heard her gasp, then the rifle whiplashed and his hat spun from his head. He instinctively crouched, hand dropping to his gun butt.
“Yes, go ahead! Draw your gun! Shoot me too and finish off the Coleman family!” Her voice cracked and she swung the smoking rifle wildly as folk began rushing from other wagons towards her fire. “Go back. Stay away from me, all of you! I can handle this ...”
She put a shot over their heads and they scattered. She swiftly levered in another shell, swinging the smoking barrel down to cover Slattery who was still crouched, unmoving.
“Thank you so much, Wade!” she gritted and he could see her whole form trembling now against the lamplit canvas of the wagon. “It was very kind of you to shoot down my husband and leave me all alone to face the future! In a hell town like this! I’m so grateful...”
She fired, but some sixth sense had warned him and he dropped flat, hearing the air whip of the slug passing over him, then the thunk as it plowed into the ground behind him. She sobbed and levered again, but he was already moving forward. Rolling under the tailgate, he surged upwards and grabbed the rifle barrel as she leaned out to see where he was.
He yanked hard and she cried out as she was pulled off balance and toppled over the tailgate. Slattery flung the rifle under the wagon and caught her, lowering her to the ground. She turned in his arms and beat at his face and chest with her fists, sobbing and cursing him wildly.
Slattery caught her wrists and shook her. “Stop it! Hear, Laura, stop it!” He changed his grip to her upper arms and shook her violently until her teeth rattled. She sobered slowly, sniffling and trembling with racking sobs. He led her over to a log near the fire, gently sat her down and offered her a clean kerchief. She took it automatically, mopped her face, then suddenly lifted her head and sneered at him, eyes full of hate.
