Gunpoint / Name on the Dodger, page 8
“Well,” Baldwin sniffed, “if you want to repay me for savin’ your neck, you just make sure they don’t come near my town.”
Dallas sipped his coffee, and Baldwin took a battered hat from a wall peg and went out of the room. Dallas had finished his coffee and still the girl hadn’t returned.
Stiffly, he went to the yard door and opened it a crack. Dust gusted into his face and he coughed. He could just make her out as she chased windblown chickens round the yard. When she caught one, she put it under her arm and dashed to the coop built against the side of the barn. A door banged hollowly on the barn, flapping on the one remaining hinge.
He badly wanted a cigarette and looked around the shelves but couldn’t find any tobacco sack. He could smell stale tobacco smoke in the house, but he was not about to start snooping.
Dallas went back to the door, intending to call the girl and ask her where her father kept his tobacco. She was still chasing her chickens as the wind blew. Then he saw the old man come out of the barn with his shotgun in one hand and some tools under the other. He spoke briefly to the girl and then turned around the barn and disappeared into the dust.
Dallas slipped out of the house and dragged his bandanna up over his nose. He pulled his hat down tightly and ducked his head to keep the dust out of his eyes as he walked.
The wind came in hot, powerful gusts. A burro brayed in the barn. The girl was too busy with her chickens to notice Dallas. He rounded the corner just in time to see Baldwin disappear over a rise. Dallas hurried forward.
The old man picked his way through a series of gullies. Dallas lost him once but spotted him again when the wind suddenly dropped and the dust cleared for a moment. The walls of the arroyo narrowed. As Dallas drew closer, he could hear a rhythmic clanking. The dust seemed thicker. He smothered a cough.
Then he came up against what appeared to be a wall of rock. He climbed it and lay flat on the top. He was looking down into a hollow dotted with piles of rubble and the black maws of abandoned mineshafts. The noises were coming out of one of those shafts, but because of the wind, Dallas couldn’t identify which one it was.
He slid back down into the arroyo. He wouldn’t pry any further. He was satisfied. He knew something had to be keeping Baldwin in a ghost town, and now he knew what it was.
When he found his way back to the house, Bess seemed almost frantic.
“Where the devil have you been?” she demanded.
“Went out to look at the burro in the barn,” he said mildly.
“I looked in the barn,” she snapped.
“Well, I tried to find your pa, too. I wanted a cigarette pretty bad but I didn’t know where he kept his tobacco.”
She paled.
“You didn’t—search our rooms?” she whispered.
“Hell, no. I wouldn’t do that. I had a look around here on the shelves, and then I went lookin’ for your pa.”
“Did—did you find him?”
Dallas shook his head.
“Figured I’d only get lost in this dust,” He grinned sheepishly. “In fact, that’s about what I did—only pure luck I found my way back here.”
“Yes, well, the dust storm is still blowing hard ... you shouldn’t move away from the house until it clears. You ought to be resting, anyway.”
“I’m okay, ma’am. Tired and stiff, but I’m okay. And I thank you again ...”
She smiled awkwardly.
“I—I was worried you might wander off and fall down one of the old mineshafts. They’re hard to see in this dust...”
“Oh? Some old shafts around still?”
She studied his face and then smiled again.
“Yes. But they’re mostly outside of town a ways ... Tell me, Mr. Dallas, is your ranch—green?”
The question surprised him.
“Well, yeah, mostly. In summertime, the grass goes brown, of course, until we get some rain, but there’re trees along the creek and I hope to buy some bottom land soon. That has big, old cottonwoods ... why?”
“Well, it’s just that I never seem to see anything but gray or yellow or black out here. Even the sky is washed out because the sun is so bright... I miss green most of all.”
“I can savvy that. I’ve spent a deal of time in deserts myself, and there’s nothin’ easier on the eye afterwards than the green grass and trees blowin’ in a breeze ...”
“That’s what I want: when we get our own place, I’m going to make sure I can see woods from my window, woods and water. I don’t care if it’s a creek or a river, or even a pond, but there will be water. I’ll make sure of that.”
Dallas hesitated and then asked, “You’re gonna be movin’ outta here eventually then?”
She gave him a sharp look.
“Yes, of course.”
“What’s keepin’ your pa here now? If you don’t mind my askin’?”
“Well, it’s really not your business.”
“That’s okay. I shouldn’t’ve ...”
“My mother died here,” she blurted suddenly. “When I was a child. It was in the days when Gunpoint was booming, and they were taking lots of gold out of the ground ... Some drunken miners tried to jump Pa’s claim, and Ma was killed in the fracas. He took me away soon after that, but he’s been a prospector all his life so he kept going to other diggings and I grew up a little and—men became a problem. Sometimes I was the only female for hundreds of miles. Pa got scared that something might happen to me, I guess. So he sort of—ran back here. He set us up in our old house, and he began looking around the old mines. He finds a little color now and then—enough for us to live on. That’s what we’ve been doing ever since.”
“Can’t be good for you,” Dallas frowned.
“I didn’t mind—for a long time. But I have to admit that I am getting—restless.”
“Can’t you just take off? Go to Alkali Flats or someplace and get yourself a job?”
She laughed, and there was a trace of bitterness in her voice.
“Pa would never allow it.”
“Ma’am, you appear to be a grown woman ...”
She looked away from him as she stacked the breakfast dishes.
“It’s not as—simple as that. I can’t leave him. I won’t leave him...”
“Well,” Dallas sighed, “I guess I can savvy how you must feel, but you’ve got to make your own life, too. S’posin’ something happened to him down one of the mineshafts? You’d be here all alone ...”
“I can take care of myself,” she said with a spark of defiance.
“Well, sure, I don’t doubt it, but...”
The door crashed open and he spun, expecting to see Baldwin cussing him out for speaking to the girl this way.
It wasn’t Baldwin. It was Larry Winters, and he had a gun in his hand. Doyle was two steps behind him with a rifle covering Dallas. Doyle jerked the barrel, indicating that Dallas should lift his hands.
There was no real choice.
Chapter Nine – Cache
WINTERS THREW THE startled girl an appraising look and then lunged forward unexpectedly and slammed his six-gun into Dallas’s solar plexus.
The rancher gasped and his legs buckled. As he dropped helplessly to one knee, the girl instinctively ran at Winters and tried to push him aside. The outlaw snarled and sent Bess staggering with a hard push. Then he brought his knee up hard against the side of Dallas’s head. The rancher sprawled on the floor and Winters gave him a disabling kick.
Winters stood back then, breathing hard, and still choking on dust from the storm. He hawked and spat on Bess’s scrubbed floor. Doyle had closed the door, and he stood with his back against the wall now, covering Dallas with his rifle as the man grimaced in pain and started to get slowly to his feet. The girl went to help the injured man, ignoring the warning snarl from Winters.
Dallas rubbed his midriff and lifted his gaze to the outlaws.
“Didn’t figure you fellers’d find this place somehow,” he said slowly.
“We didn’t find it,” Winters told him shortly. “We stumbled onto it... who’s she?”
“Bess Baldwin. She lives here.”
“Alone?” Doyle asked.
“No. There’s a lot of folks still livin’ around here,” Dallas lied.
Winters grinned and shook his head as he said, “No, there ain’t, Dallas. We looked over most of the town before we got to you. There’s no one else. Except whoever lives here with her, that is.”
“My father,” Bess said quietly since there didn’t seem any point in lying.
Dallas swore silently, wishing she hadn’t told them so readily that there was only one other.
“Where is he?” Doyle demanded.
“He’s—gone to try and catch one of his burros. He was gonna lend it to me to get to Alkali Flats,” Dallas said quickly, and Winters stepped forward and back-handed him across the mouth.
“Lyin’ son of a bitch! We seen the burro, in the barn all set to go!”
Then Winters grabbed the girl and locked his other arm around her throat, pulling her in tightly. Her face reddened as he exerted more pressure.
“Last chance, Dallas!” the badman rasped.
“I dunno where he went,” Dallas said. “He just took off after breakfast.”
“He got a gun?” Winters asked him as he eased the pressure on Bess’s throat.
Dallas hesitated and then shrugged.
“He had a shotgun last night when he brought me in. Mebbe he’s got it with him, mebbe not.”
“Better keep watch, Doyle,” Winters said sharply.
“Not till I get somethin’ to eat—and some coffee. Why don’t you get the gal workin’ on it?”
Winters hesitated and then shoved the girl roughly. She choked and rubbed her throat.
“You heard,” the outlaw said. “Get us some grub and coffee.”
Without a word, Bess went to obey. Winters drew his six-gun again and pointed it towards Dallas.
“Why was the old man gonna lend you that burro?”
“Because I lost my hoss. You know that.”
“I dunno nothin’ of the kind. Sure, we seen you on foot, but that don’t mean you ‘lost’ your bronc. Maybe you hid it someplace. With the ransom.”
“You’re loco! I never had a chance to hide the money, and I sure would’ve stayed on the horse if I could’ve.”
“You might’ve decided to walk it—if you knew about this dump,” Winters said suspiciously.
Dallas shook his head.
“I heard of Gunpoint, but I didn’t know I was anywhere near it …”
He smiled crookedly.
“You’re in for a big disappointment, mister. My—your horse—stepped into quicksand. Went straight under, saddlebags and all.”
The outlaws stiffened in rage. Doyle growled deep in his throat, and the girl looked around in alarm. Winters’s face was set in a murderous mask. He stepped forward, placed the six-gun against Dallas’s head and thumbed back the hammer.
“You’re lyin’,” he hissed.
“Not this time,” Dallas said as he forced himself to look straight into the outlaw’s eyes. “It’s what happened. I was lucky to get off before I went under too.”
Winters was silent for a spell, and then he said, “Mebbe you were lucky ... but not if you’re lyin’, Dallas. Doyle,” he told his pard, “go and search the house. You know what you’re lookin’ for.”
“No!” the girl said desperately.
Winters looked from her to Dallas and smiled.
“Ah! Seems I’m on the right track, huh? All right, Doyle—start searchin’.”
As Doyle left the kitchen, Bess tried to return to her cooking. Dallas could see she was badly shaken. Obviously, there was something in the house she didn’t want Doyle to find.
“There’s no ransom money here,” Dallas said. “Doyle’s just wastin’ his time. That money’s under the sand now. I couldn’t even show you where it happened.”
“Shut up,” Winters snapped at Dallas. “I’ll get around to you again soon enough,” Then he turned to Bess and added, “And you hurry up with grub, damn you, gal! The smell’s makin’ me hungry!”
By the time Doyle returned, Bess had food and coffee on the table. Winters narrowed his eyes as Doyle dropped a chamois poke onto the table with a heavy clunk. The girl gave a small sigh as she stared at it.
“Well,” Doyle gloated, “maybe I din’ find the ransom, but I found somethin’ just as good under the old man’s mattress ... poke of gold! Must be a couple thousand bucks’ worth, mebbe more.”
His hands shook as he opened the poke to display his discovery.
“Of course,” Winters said to Bess, “there had to be somethin’ to keep you and your old man out here in a ghost town. How much more has he got hid away?”
“That—that’s all, I swear! It’s just what he’s managed to work out of the old mines. It’s our—grubstake ...”
“Wrong, lady,” Doyle cut in. “Now it’s our grubstake. Right, Larry?”
Winters nodded gently, and he told Doyle, “Yeah, but there’s gotta be more than this ... go take another look. Seems to me this poke might’ve just been planted for someone to find. They’d figure they hit the jackpot and be satisfied without lookin’ no further ... Go tear up the floorboards.”
“There’s no need,” Bess said breathlessly and Dallas could tell she was lying. “There’s no more ... honestly!”
“Oh, yeah ...” Doyle grinned as he walked away.
“Might be we’ll come out on top after all,” Winters grinned as he looked at Dallas.
“If I was you, I wouldn’t stay around these parts too long,” the rancher replied.
“An’ why’s that?” Winters threw back at him, no longer smiling.
“How about that hombre with the buffalo gun? I figure he’s still out there somewhere. He’ll be trailin’ you, and it ain’t likely that he’s alone.”
“He’ll have one helluva job findin’ any sign in this wind,” Winters laughed.
“You found your way here. So did I.”
The outlaw looked doubtful.
“You better just start worryin’ about yourself, Dallas. I’ll handle the rest of the deal.”
“Then handle it somewhere else. These folks have nothin’ to do with it. They helped me because they’re good people, is all. If it’d been you who came stumblin’ in out of the desert, they’d have helped you, too.”
“Dallas,” the outlaw sneered, “just shut up and sit down in that chair out in the middle of the floor where I can see you.” The rancher obeyed, and Bess listened to the sound of Doyle ransacking the house. Wood splintered and glass shattered. The wind still howled outside, but it seemed to Dallas that it was dying away.
By the time Doyle came back into the kitchen the wind had dropped to moaning gusts. Dust began to settle slowly outside. Doyle was sweating, and he seemed angry. Blood dripped from a cut finger.
“I can’t find nothin’ more,” he said, “but there’s a little hidey-hole under one leg of the old man’s bed. Nothin’ in it now, but it could’ve held a couple of pokes.”
Winters turned to the girl as she collected his dirty dishes. Doyle stuffed a cold biscuit into his mouth and poured himself some coffee which was only lukewarm now.
“How about it, lady?” Winters asked.
She shook her head.
“We lived here many years ago, before we went away. Pa used to hide his gold there then, but he hasn’t had enough for that in a long, long time ...”
“What do you think?” Winters asked Doyle. “Is she tellin’ the truth?”
“Nope,” Doyle answered flatly, “I don’t think so.”
It was evident by Bess’s face that she had been caught out. Desperately, she threw the armload of dishes into Doyle’s lap and overturned the table on Winters as he jumped back. Dallas was on his feet, wrenching the door open, and the girl was halfway through when Winters fired a shot into the frame. Bess froze, and Doyle grabbed Dallas by the shoulder, flinging him back. When he had Bess lined up with Dallas, he told them to raise their hands.
Doyle covered them with the rifle, and Winters opened the door wider, stepped outside and fired two shots into the air. He grinned at the puzzled prisoners.
“That’ll save me the trouble of huntin’ for the old man.”
“Providin’ he’s close enough to hear,” Dallas pointed out. “And mebbe the man with the buffalo gun heard, too …”
Doyle looked startled and Winters frowned. Winters hadn’t considered that possibility. He consoled himself by delivering a stinging slap to Dallas’s face. Four people waited in strained silence until Winters gave a triumphant grin.
Art Baldwin called, “Bess? You all right, gal?”
Doyle pressed his gun into the girl’s side.
“Call him in!” he growled.
Bess shook her head. The gun barrel turned so that the foresight dug into her skin. She paled and cleared her throat.
“In—in here, Pa. I—I’m all right.”
Baldwin came in puffing, holding his shotgun out in front of him.
“Who the hell was shootin’...?”
Winters’s six-gun slashed down and the barrel cracked across the old miner’s wrist, jarring the shotgun from his grip. The outlaw grabbed the front of the tattered overalls and threw the startled prospector across the room. He fell, and Dallas and the girl pulled him to his feet. He looked at his daughter first, and then his gaze hardened as he turned to Dallas.
“You led ’em in here after all,” he said bitterly.
“It wasn’t Dallas’s fault, Pa,” the girl told him, but Baldwin’s face was still red with anger.
“Take what grub you want and get on your way,” he told the outlaws.
Winters laughed and pulled the poke out of his shirt.
“We’ll take what grub we want all right, old-timer, when we’re good and ready, but that ain’t all we want. You got more of this, and you’re goin’ to tell us where it’s at.”
Baldwin swung towards the girl.
“How’d they find that?” he demanded.
