Showdown On the Hogback (1991) (21 page)

What if it were old and would not support his weight? He had to chance that.

He jumped. His fingers hooked well over the edge, and soundlessly he drew himself up. Now Kedrick could see into the lighted room, but he could not locate the killer. The voice spoke again. "I'm giving you no more time, Kedrick. Come out or I start to shoot! Toss that other gun first!" Silence lay in the room, a silence broken by the sudden bellow of a gun! The killer fired, emptied a six-gun, and then emptied another. Tom Kedrick waited, having no idea how many guns the man had or what he might have planned for. Then six more carefully spaced shots were fired. One of them ricocheting dangerously close to Kedrick's head.

There was a long pause and then a sound of movement.

"All right, if you're alive in there now, you got a shot comin', but if you want to give up, you can. I sort of want you alive."

Suddenly the blanket was jerked from its moorings and Alton Burwick stood in the
opening
, a gun gripped in his fist, ready to fire.

Kedrick made no sound, and the man stared and then rushed into the room. Almost whining with fury, he jerked Kedrick's hat from the bed and then the slicker. As the latter fell to the floor, with it fell Kedrick's other pistol, which falling from the holster had hooked into a tear in the slicker. He stared at it furiously and then jerked the bed aside. Almost insane with fury, he searched, unbelieving and whining like an angry hound on a trail.

He stopped, his pent-up fury worn away, and stood there, his chest heaving with his exertions, his fist still gripping the pistol. "Gone! Gone!" he cried, as if bereft. "When I had him right here!"

Kedrick's fingers had found a tiny sliver of wood, and deliberately, he snapped it against Burwick's cheek. The fat man jerked as if stung and then looked up. Their eyes met, and slowly he backed away, but now he was smiling.

"Oh, you're a smart one, Kedrick! Very smart!

Too bad it couldn't have been you with me instead of that weakling Keith! All front and show, but no bottom to him, no staying quality!

"But," he sighed, "I've got you anyway, and you'll suffer for what you've done." He scooped Kedrick's other pistol from the floor and backed away. "All right, get down!"

Kedrick dropped to the floor, and the fat man waved irritably at the gun he clutched. "No use to bluff: That's empty. Throw it down!"

"What's it all about, Burwick?" Tom asked suddenly. "Why this place? The armor? What about Dornie Shaw?"

"Ah? How did you know about that? But no matter, no matter!" He backed to the wall, watching Kedrick and holding the gun. "Why, it was gold, boy! Gold and lots of it! It was I who stirred those Indians up to attacking that caravan! I wanted the gold they carried, and most of it belonging to Dornie's pa!

"I knew about it! Followed them from Dodge.

Knew when they drew it from the bank there, and how much!

"They fooled me though. When the Indians hit, they'd buried it somewhere. It could have been a lot of places. That was the trouble. They might have buried it sooner, but somewhere along the trail. I've dug and I've hunted, but I've never found it. Maybe I will someday, but nobody else is going to!

"Wondered why I wanted the land? Profit, sure!

But I wanted this piece, a couple of sections in here, all for myself. Figured on that, working it out somehow. The gold's somewhere between here and Thieving Rock. Has to be."

Kedrick nodded. "That clears up a lot of things. Now you drop that gun, Burwick, and come as my prisoner."

Burwick chuckled fatly. "Try to bluff me? I'd of expected that from you! Nervy one, huh?

Bet you got that Connie Duane, too! By the Lord Harry, there's a woman! No scare to her! Not one bit! Drop your gun, boy, or I'll put my first bullet through your kneecap!"

He was going to shoot, and Tom Kedrick knew it. Coolly, he squeezed off his own shot, an instant faster. He shot for the gun hand, but the bullet only skinned the thumb knuckle and hit Burwick in the side.

The fat man jerked and his face twisted, and he stared at the gun, lifting his own. Coolly, Kedrick fired again and then again. The bullets struck with an ugly smack, and Burwick wilted, the gun going from his limp fingers to the floor.

Kedrick stepped in and caught him, easing him down.

The flabby cheeks were suddenly sagging and old.

Bitterly, the man stared upward at him. "What happened? That-that-?" "The gun was a Walch twelve-shot Navy pistol," Tom explained. was I started carrying them a few days ago, replacing the .44 Russians." Burwick stared at him, no hatred in his eyes. "Smart!" he said. "Smart! Always one trick better than me, or anybody! You'll-do, boy!"

On the streets of Mustang the sun was warm after the rain. Tom Kedrick, wounded again but walking, stood beside Connie Duane. Shad was grinning at them. "Look mighty fine in that tailored suit, Tom. You goin' to be gone long?" "Not us! We'll be married in Santa Fe, and then we're headin' for the Mogollons and that ranch."

"Seems a shame not to hunt for that gold,"

Laredo complained. "But anyway, the real treasure was that box full of Burwick's papers. Sure made Cummings hunt his hole. But I do regret that gold."

"I don't," Connie replied. "It's caused too much trouble. Alton Burwick spent his life and a good many other lives after it. Let it stay where it is. Maybe a better man will find it, who needs it more than we do!" "Gosh!" Laredo said suddenly. was I got to light a shuck! I'm late to meet Sue! So long, then!" They watched him go, waiting for the stage. Everything was quiet in Mustang-three whole days without a killing.