Sheriff on the Spot (14 page)

He pulled up at the edge of the old trail and leaped off. One glance told him he was in time. He led the mare back to a thick clump of juniper and left her where she couldn't be seen from the trail, then trotted back and looked about for a safe spot from which he could accost the two riders.

He selected a gnarled oak that leaned over the trail, climbed the trunk quickly and inched his way out on a thick limb to a point directly over the trail.

He straddled the limb and relaxed, smiling a little now that the strain was over. He got out the makings and rolled a cigarette while he listened alertly for his friends' approach.

He heard the ring of steel horseshoes on the rocky trail as he lit his cigarette. They were still coming at a leisurely trot, evidently feeling wholly secure in the belief that they had outdistanced him.

Pat puffed on his cigarette with satisfaction, and grinned widely when he saw their heads bobbing along above low trees in the distance. There was the huge, heavy-shouldered body of Ezra, towering a foot above his smaller companion. Ezra wore a black Stetson and dusty blue shirt, but Sam Sloan was more gaily attired in a bright red silk shirt and a fresh pair of blue jeans. They were talking and laughing together as they approached him. He could hear Ezra's booming laughter, and could see a grin wreathing the dark, ugly face of Sam Sloan.

Pat's belly muscles tightened uncomfortably as he suddenly remembered why he was here. In the excitement of heading them off, he'd forgotten that he wanted them for robbing the Dutch Springs bank and a couple of murders. It made him angry to see them joking and laughing so gaily. He had risked disgrace for their sake last night, and today he had risked his neck to get close enough to talk to them.

He was a damned fool, he told himself morosely. They hadn't thought of him last night when they'd done those things that sent them riding the owl-hoot trail. Now they were as happy as a couple of kids at an ice cream festival. As if murder was something to laugh about! And robbing their own bank. Stealing their friends' money!

He got all choked up with a curious blend of anger and of fear as he waited for them to ride beneath the tree. This was the showdown. What happened in the next few minutes would determine whether he could go on living as a respected citizen of Powder Valley or whether he took out for the Border with them. He thought of Sally and of his son, Dock—and of Kitty Lane.

Then they were directly beneath the limb, and he spoke down to them quietly without raising his voice:

“Where you two hombres headed for?”

13

Sam Sloan and Ezra stopped their horses in the trail a few feet beyond the oak tree in which Pat was perched. Neither of them looked up. Sam frowned and said gravely to Ezra, “Damn if I didn't think I heerd a voice. Sounded like 'twas comin' down from the sky.”

Ezra looked relieved. He said, “By Gawd, Sam, I'm glad you heard it too. Me, I thought mebby I'd slipped a cog.”

“Couldn't be no angel,” Sam argued. “Sort of a he-voice, sounded like to me. You ever hear of a he-angel, Ezra?”

“Shore never did.” Ezra lowered his voice to a doubtful bellow. “'Ceptin' Gabriel, mebby. Do you 'low, Sam, that it could be
him
a-talkin' to us?”

Pat said loudly, “All right. You've had your say-so even if 'twasn't very funny.”

Sam cocked his head sideways and beamed up at Pat Stevens sitting above them on the oak-tree limb. He drawled, “My lan' sakes, Ezra. Take a squint up yonder an' tell me if you see what I do. Looks like ol' Pat Stevens scrooched up there on a limb like he'd turned into a danged buzzard. An' he's talkin', by Gawd. Almost human. Buzzards cain't talk.”

Ezra squinted his one eye upward with mock seriousness, then let out a whoop of laughter at sight of Pat's face. “Danged if you don't look plumb funny, Pat. Where-at did you fly from?”

Pat Stevens slid off the limb and let himself down full-length holding on with his hands for a moment, then dropping lightly to the ground.

“You boys are as funny as a pair of busted crutches,” he ground out. “Slide off them cayuses an' we'll have a powwow.”

They stepped down from their saddles, still chuckling gleefully, and Sam gave Pat a hard hand-grip while Ezra almost bowled him over with a mighty blow on the shoulder. “How'd you git here, you ol' son-of-a-sheriff?” Sam exploded. “We shore wasn't expectin' to see you no more. Thought you'd be busy chasin' around an' huntin' bank robbers an' sech.”

Pat said quietly, “I am.”

“You am what?” Sam glanced swiftly at Ezra.

“Chasin' bank robbers. You damn fool, Ezra! What'd you do that for?”

“Why'd I do what, Pat?” Ezra tried to look innocent but his scarred face was so guilty and contrite that Pat couldn't repress a grin.

He stifled his grin and said soberly, “Break in the bank. You might of known I'd have to be on your trail for that.”

“How-come you think Ezra broke in the bank?”

Pat snorted his disgust. “I saw him when he went out the door. Who'd you think it was shootin' over your head an' givin' you a chance to slip away?” he asked Ezra scathingly. “Who do you think it was that sent the posse ridin' off in the wrong direction?”

“Gosh a-mighty, Pat. Was that you inside the bank when I come out?”

Pat nodded. “I had the place surrounded airtight. Hell, you stayed in the vault half an hour with the light shinin' out the window.”

Ezra said defensively, “It took a long time to get the money. I'm shore obliged to yuh for helpin' out.”

“But why in tarnation did you ride out here to stop us?” Sam Sloan interjected. “That don't make sense. Lettin' us get away las' night an' then ridin' after us.”

“I aim to take that money back to the bank.”

“I reckon not, Pat.” Sam's voice was gentle but decisive. “We're keepin' it.”

Pat said, “I'm still sheriff of Powder Valley.”

“That's too bad.” Sam's voice was inflexible. “We're still keepin' the money.”

“We cain't stand here talkin' too long,” Ezra put in. “There's some fellers after us—one at the least. He smoked us out of the Windrow cabin awhile back, an' then tried to ride over the mountain an' cut us off. He'll be turnin' back when he sees that rockslide, an'll be on our trail again. Sam an' me wanted tuh keep ahead of him because we feel like there's awready bin too much killin'.”

Pat moved back to squat down by the side of the trail with his back against the trunk of the oak. He began rolling a cigarette and said, “That was me.”

A little moment of silence followed his statement. Then Sam drew in a long breath and asked disbelievingly, “You mean that was you back at the Windrow cabin—you that rode over the mountain?”

“That's right.” Pat didn't look up from his cigarette.

“An' you rode down over that shale slide to get here ahead of us?”

“How else could I head you off?” Pat asked angrily. “You'd never of let me come up to you behind.”

Sam let out a long sigh and said wonderingly, “I don't see why you didn't break yore fool neck.”

“It's done an' I didn't,” Pat reminded him. “There ain't no one else on your trail an' we got lots of time to talk. An' lots to talk about,” he added grimly.

Sam and Ezra looked at each other, then squatted down and also began to roll cigarettes.

“I dunno how much you know about things,” Sam began unhappily. “We had a real good reason for robbin' the bank an' takin' the owl-hoot for the Border.”

“I know the reason.”

“Then you know we cain't go back.”

“I'm not so sure of that.” Pat lit his cigarette. He cleared his throat and explained, “Nobody but me has seen the knife that killed Fred Ralston.”

“That the name of the dude from Denver?” Ezra put in, his single eye blazing with interest.

“That's his name.”

“How-come they didn't find my knife?” Sam asked slowly.

“Because I got to him first,” Pat snapped. “I hid it inside my bootleg an' didn't tell anybody. There's only Kitty's story to hook you up with that killin',” he went on soberly.

“What kinda story did Kitty tell?”

“I'd like to hear yours first. Then I'll know better what to do.”

“You ain't gonna like it,” Sam warned him. He shook his head with a disgusted scowl. “I reckon I've been all kinds of a fool.”

Pat agreed. “I reckon you have.”

“Damn a woman anyhow!” Sam exploded angrily. “Allus messin' a man up. I thought Kitty was diffrunt. I thought, by Gawd, she loved me. She said so. An' I was fool enough to believe her.”

“That was before you knowed she was married,” Ezra told him.

“Yeh.” Sam's lips curled back from his teeth in a bitter smile. “She was married all the time—an' makin' up to me.”

Pat said, “I know about that. Fred Ralston was her husband.”

“Yeh. That's what I—found out las' night.”

Pat moodily smoked on his cigarette and waited for Sam to go on.

“I better give you the straight of it—so you'll know you cain't help us none. I was in Kitty's room with her. I reckon I was purty drunk. An' she was sweet-lovin'. I—ast her to marry me,” Sam ended miserably.

“We was kissin',” he went on doggedly, hanging his head and avoiding Pat's eyes, “when the door busted open an' that feller walked in.”

“Do you mean he busted the door open?” Pat asked with interest.

“Naw. I reckon it was unlocked. He jest walked in. An' when Kitty saw him she let out a scared scream an' said, ‘My Gawd, it's Fred.' An I ast her who the hell was Fred an' she said it was her husban' from Denver. An' he cussed me for makin' over his wife an' started to'ards me.”

Sam paused to catch his breath and take a long pull on his cigarette.

“I was plumb drunk,” he confessed. “I pulled my gun an' tol' him to stand back but he kep' on comin'. So I shot at him twicet. But I reckon I musta bin awful drunk. I didn't even hit him. An' he kep' comin'. I pulled my knife an' went after him. Jest about the time I hit him, I passed plumb out. Whisky never did hit me like that before. Like I was hit on the head with a ax. I bin thinkin'. You reckon that bottle of whisky was doped, Pat?”

“I shore bet it was,” Ezra rumbled. “I bin tellin' Sam I figger it was a put-up job. I've seen Sam dead drunk before, but he never acted like that. I'd of swore he got hit on the head and knocked out, but there ain't a mark on him.”

“Your head isn't sore at all?” Pat asked sharply.

“Nope. Not no more'n a hell of a headache.” Sam put his hand up and felt the back of his head tenderly. “I thought 'twas gonna split off, but it's easin' some now. That's why I think the whisky was doped.”

Pat said, “I took two big drinks out of the same bottle. Tasted all right to me.”

“Anyhow, that's what happened. All I remember is goin' after him with my knife. When I come to early this mawnin', Ezra had me tied into the saddle. He tol' me about the feller bein' dead an' about him robbin' the bank. So we flggered on cuttin' west acrost the range an' down into Mexico. You got any better idee?” he ended savagely.

Pat said, “I'd like to hear Ezra's part of it.”

Ezra twisted his big face into a morose scowl. “There ain't so much for me to tell.” He took a last puff on his cigarette and threw it away. “I tol' Sam he was playin' the fool with that woman. I figgered she was after his money. But he wouldn't listen to me a-tall. He swore she was on the square an' he was gonna marry her.”

“Awright,” said Sam angrily. “That ain't got nothin' to do with last night.”

“He drunk a lot of whisky in the afternoon,” Ezra told Pat. “But I didn't think he was tumble drunk. Then Kitty come in an' had a drink or two with him, an' they went out an' upstairs together. I follered after a time, and knocked on Sam's door but he didn't answer. I could hear people talkin' in Kitty's room, an' I figgered it was them. But Sam's old enough to know better, so I didn't do nothin'.

“I went in my room an' stretched out on the bed. I remember thinkin' how damn glad I was that the Pony Express started today an' Sam would have to git away from the hotel an' Kitty to ride his stretch. An' I reckon I sorta dozed off layin' there.”

He paused and scowled angrily. “Fust thing I heard was the shots. Then a poundin' on my door. I got up an' Kitty was there. She was cryin' an' plenty scared. She said somethin' awful had happened an' for me to come in a hurry. So I went across in her room an' there they were. Sam an' a feller I'd never saw before. Dressed up fancy in city clothes. An' there was blood all over an' Sam's knife with blood on it. An' that pore feller starin' up at me like he blamed me for him bein' dead.

“Kitty was wringin' her hands an' cryin', an' she begged me to get Sam outta there in a hurry. She said the feller was her husband an' Sam'd knifed him when he come in an' caught 'em. An' him not even with a gun or knife.

“I seen 'twas a bad mess, so I carried Sam into my room. He was limp as a drowned rat, but there wasn't a scratch on him an' I knowed he musta jest passed out.

“An' Kitty come in an' began talkin' fast. She recollected that Jeth Purdue was takin' over the sheriff's badge, an' she'd heard some things about Jeth that made her figger that he could be bribed to quiet the whole thing down. She pointed out how it'd go hard with Sam if it got out that he'd killed a man who'd caught him kissin' his wife, but she promised to help hush it all up, sayin' she hated her husband anyhow an' was glad he was dead, an' now she could marry Sam mebby, if we'd use some of our money to pay off Jeth Purdue.