The Loner 14, page 10
Cord Orville stepped back a pace and swore under his breath. “You’re loco,” he said. “I got a quiet town and the people in it work hard.”
“The people know nothing but what you tell them, Orville. They’re so scared they don’t lift their heads in the street, and they work in heat like today’s without a whimper. No, Orville, I’m no fool, and I’ve lost my patience with you. I think you and I had better take a ride out of this town and discuss the matter at length someplace else.”
“Like blazes!” Orville cried as he heeled about and made for the door.
Crowther lifted his gun. “Go through there, Orville, and you won’t make the other side of the boardwalk. I’ve taken precautions to protect myself. If I don’t show up on the trail back home by mid-afternoon, a posse will come riding in here, bent on tearing you and your scum apart. Eleven men, trained to fight, Orville, and loyal to me.”
Orville wheeled back. “You’ve got nothing on me, mister, nothing at all. Arrest me and I’ll make you the laughing stock of the frontier.”
“I’ve been laughed at before, Orville. Last time I saw Tonge, he suggested that I put pressure on some of your boys. He thinks they’ll break because they’re not sure what the hell is going on. But maybe I do, Orville. Seven robberies in seven months—always after one of my visits. There was gold bullion in one of those thefts, bullion worth a fortune.”
Orville studied the lawman grimly, trying desperately to find a way out of this. He knew Crowther was trying to bluff him, but the gun in the lawman’s hand had no bluff about it. It was an unmoving, firmly held threat to his life, and he didn’t doubt for a moment that Crowther, desperate to find his deputy, would use the gun to get what he wanted.
He said, “Crowther, do what you like. Do any damned thing you like. But get on with it. If you want to arrest me, go right ahead.”
“I’ve just done that, Orville. Shed your gunbelt.”
Cord Orville undid the buckle of his belt. He reached out with the gunbelt, but Crowther didn’t fall for the trick.
“Drop it.”
With a curse, Orville let the gunbelt fall to the floor. He then turned and sat on the edge of the desk, waiting. Crowther, now that he had control of the situation, was unsure how to proceed, and he still had not decided when Rhett Campbell, carrying a bottle and three glasses, came into the jailhouse. Campbell took three steps into the room before he saw the gunbelt lying on the floor. He immediately dropped the tray and went for his gun. At the same time he threw himself to the side and Crowther’s shot ripped into his shoulder, spinning him about. Rhett Campbell hit the wall, regained his balance and opened fire. His slugs tore across the room, slamming into the desk and the wall behind Crowther.
Cord Orville saw his chance and took it. He heaved the desk over, scooped up his gun and then, in a crouching run, raced for the back door. Crowther was too taken up with getting Campbell to pay him any heed, and only when Campbell went down under a barrage of shots did Crowther heel about and fire in Cord Orville’s direction. The bullet slammed into the door as it closed. Letting out a grunt, Coe Crowther stepped past the table, but by the time he got the back door open and went out, the backyard of the jailhouse was empty. He would have gone on if Angus Frith hadn’t appeared in the laneway to his right. Frith’s gun bucked and a bullet tore across Crowther’s neck. He went back towards the cover of the doorway so he could refill his gun. It was then that Blake Durant came down the jailhouse laneway, gun ready.
He called, “Okay, mister, drop it.”
Frith spun to meet the threat. Seeing Durant, he let out a string of curses. Blake dodged his first shot and then coolly cut him down. As Frith fell, Tag Jeloe came running down the laneway, firing from the hip. Blake felt another burn in his side before he was able to blast Jeloe back on his heels and finish him with a bullet in the neck. Jeloe went down screaming.
From the doorway, Crowther said calmly, “I’m obliged, mister, whoever you are.”
“There are more of them in the street,” Durant said. “Who’s left inside?”
“Only a dead man.”
“Okay, make your fight from inside. I’ll cover the street from out here.”
Crowther hurried back into the jailhouse and pulled Campbell’s gun from his fist. Then he pushed the front door open and stepped onto the boardwalk. Five men were converging on the jailhouse. Before Durant or Crowther could fire, a rifle barked near the saloon. Looking that way, Blake saw Abe Lennon standing beside the barkeep. Both men were firing. A warm feeling flooded through Blake. He moved out, his gun barking. Two of the five went down under the crossfire of bullets and the other three broke and ran. Only two made it as one pitched forward on his face outside the yard where the Orville outfit had their horses. The other two, not bothering to fire back, scrambled onto their horses and rode fast into the street. By the time the echo of the shots had died, only the drumming of hoofbeats spoiled the settling peace of the day.
Blake Durant walked slowly to where Crowther stood and put out his hand. When the introductions were made, the barkeep and Abe Lennon came down. The barkeep explained who Durant was and who Lennon was, and then Crowther said:
“Well, it seems this town owes plenty to a couple of strangers, Higgins.”
The barkeep nodded. “We get them all?”
“All except Orville,” Crowther said. “I had him fair in my sights but then Campbell spoiled things for me. I don’t think Orville will stay about any longer than he has to, which means I’ll have the chase of my life on my hands.” Crowther walked back into the jailhouse as people began to appear in the street. They filed into the saloon, where barkeep Higgins explained what had happened that day. Drinks were passed out, but to a man the townspeople were solemn faced, subdued. There were too many memories to be washed away before they could lift their heads again. But one thing was clear: Higgins had become a hero.
In the jailhouse, Blake discovered that Campbell, although hit with four of Crowther’s bullets, was still alive. He propped him up in the desk chair and revived him with whisky. When Campbell opened his eyes and saw Durant, his mouth twisted.
“Where did Orville go when he cut out on you?” Durant asked.
Rhett Campbell scowled. “Ask him, Durant.”
“He left you to face the music on your own, Campbell,” Crowther reminded him. “I had my back to him while you were shooting at me, but he didn’t waste any time getting out of here. If he’d stayed, perhaps you wouldn’t be dying and I’d be dead.”
Campbell’s face whitened and anger flared in his face. Crowther went on, “The bunch of you are finished. Those who are not lying dead in the street are running ... only two of them, mister. The town’s coming alive but Orville is out of it. Do you know where he is? I’ll tell you. He’s gone to where the proceeds of seven robberies are stashed. He’ll be a rich man, Campbell, after running out on you. You want that to be the way it is, with you the loser and him the big winner?”
Campbell looked from Crowther to Durant and back again. “He won’t run out on me,” he said. “You’ll see—Cord’ll be back. He’ll work something out.”
“The only thing he’ll work out is how to spend all that money, Campbell. For the rest of you, Boothill. Don’t be a fool, man! Orville isn’t worthy of your friendship and you know it.”
Blake stood by, patiently waiting. Campbell coughed up blood that spilled down his chin and onto his shirt. His face was gray and it was plain that he had only minutes to live.
So Blake said, “The one place that cache could be, Crowther, is in Orville’s country. He has a valley three days’ ride from here, and he’s always been keen to keep people off that land. I reckon that if I searched that land real well I’d find a cave or something big enough to hide a fortune in.”
Campbell gritted his teeth as he fought against the pain working through his body. Sweat beads formed on his brow and he began to shiver.
“Where is the cache?” Blake asked.
Then the lawman said, “Orville fell for my bluff. If he had brazened it out, I would have had to eat crow. But he panicked, Campbell, and he brought the whole thing undone. So you’ve got him to thank for those holes in you, nobody else.”
Campbell swore under his breath and closed his eyes. Then he croaked, “He’s run, Crowther? You ain’t lyin’ to me?”
“I have some respect for a dying man’s feelings, Campbell. You fell afoul of the law so I was obliged to either arrest you or kill you. But I bear you no malice. It was just a job I had to do.”
Campbell’s head dropped onto his chest. He fought to get breath into his lungs and then he whispered hoarsely, “North, rocky country. Cave. Only one.”
Then he fell forward and his head slammed against the desk top. Coe Crowther looked bleakly down at him and shook his head.
“They never learn. None of them ever learn.”
And with that the lawman went out. Blake fetched Sundown from Orville’s yard and rode down the street. He found Crowther waiting for him.
Crowther said, “Durant, I’d like you along for the kill. I don’t think we’ll have much trouble finding Orville.”
Katherine Wheeler was outside the jailhouse with Lennon and Charles Cassidy. As Durant turned his horse, she hurried forward and grabbed at his saddle. Blake looked down at her.
“Mr. Durant?” she said.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I ... I want to say I’m sorry … I was so wrong, so very wrong ... about everything.”
“It happens,” Blake said. “I’ve made my share of mistakes. Don’t worry yourself about it.”
“Are you coming back?” she asked.
Blake shrugged. “I don’t know. Orville’s no slouch with a gun and he’s desperate and in a corner.”
“But if you’re all right, then will you come back? I want you to. I want to prove how truly sorry I am.”
Blake held her stare blandly. Under different circumstances he knew this beautiful young woman would appeal to him.
But too much had happened that had put a broad gulf between them. In time she would change, as she already appeared to be doing, but time was short, even for a drifter looking for new trails. He leaned past her and shook Lennon’s hand.
Then Durant turned Sundown and followed Coe Crowther out of town. As the heat shimmers swallowed them up, tears welled in Katherine’s eyes.
She said, “He won’t come back.”
Lennon shrugged. “Hard to tell with his kind, ma’am. Durant’s breed do what they want. If he gets it into his head that there’s something worthwhile for him in this town, then he’ll be back all right. Maybe not this week, maybe not in a month or even a year. But he won’t forget. Guess you’ll just have to wait.”
“And hope,” Katherine said.
And with that she went off down the street on her own, knowing she was a better woman for having met Blake Durant and feeling a terrible sense of loss with his going. But she knew, as Abe Lennon and Charles Cassidy knew, that the two men riding out would be more than a match for their quarry, and that soon Cord Orville would be dead.
About the Author
Sheldon B. Cole was one of many pseudonyms used by prolific Australian writer Desmond Robert Dunn (6 November 1929-5 May 2003). In addition to four crime novels published under his own name, Des was a tireless western writer whose career spanned more than fifty years and well in excess of 400 oaters. These quick-moving, vivid and always compelling stories appeared under such pen-names as Shad Denver, Gunn Halliday, Adam Brady, Brett Iverson, Matt Cregan, Walt Renwick and Morgan Culp. He is also said to have written a number of the ever-popular Larry Kent P.I. novels, but at this late date author attribution is almost impossible. He married and divorced twice, and had three children. He died at the age of 73 in Brisbane, Queensland.
The Loner Series
by Sheldon B. Cole
Where Guns Talk
Trail to Nowhere
Boothill is Anywhere
Brand of the Forgotten
Kill or Hang!
Outcast County
Somewhere – A Sundown
Die, Damn You, Die!
Losers Die Fast
Sundown Comes Suddenly
Carne’s Raiders
Draw Fast – Or Die!
The Testament Trail
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Sheldon B. Cole, The Loner 14
