This Violent Land (23 page)

Clell chuckled and shook his head. “I guess you've got me on that one, Sheriff. No, it really doesn't matter. All right, get Jensen in here. If I'm going to do this, I want to do it, and get it over with.”

After Hector had hurried out of the jail, Clell stood in the cell looking down at the empty weapon in his hand. After a moment, he laughed.

It was a grim sound.

* * *

Smoke was having a cup of coffee in Suzie's Café when Sheriff Hector came in.

“Hello, Sheriff. Join me in a cup of coffee?” Smoke asked.

“Well, I will when you come back.”

“When I come back from where?”

“Dawson wants to talk to you. It's something about three men who have hired some people to kill you. I don't know what he's talking about. I think he may be trying to come up with something that he can use in his trial. I mean, do you have any idea what he's talking about?”

“Three men, he said?”

“Yeah. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it does mean something,” Smoke said. “Would you excuse me, Sheriff? I reckon maybe I'd like to hear what he has to say.”

“I'll be right here when you get back,” Hector said. “Suzie? What kind of pie do you have left?”

“D
awson, I understand you have something to tell me about the three men who are trying to kill me,” Smoke said when he stepped into the cell block a few minutes later.

“Is that the ruse he used to get you over here?” Clell asked. “He told you I have something to tell you?”

“Yes. What do you mean,
ruse
? Are you saying you don't have anything to tell me?”

“Oh, yeah, I've got something to tell you, all right. I've got the damnedest story you ever heard.”

Smoke shook his head. “I don't have any idea what you're talking about.”

“No, I don't imagine you do. But I'll start out with this. I confess that I held up a stagecoach in Pueblo County several months ago. I didn't get that much money out of it, and nobody was hurt.” Clell smiled. “The newspapers called me the Gentleman Bandit. I admit that was wrong, but I didn't have anything to do with those robberies where the stagecoach and the train were dynamited. Sheriff Hector was behind those robberies. He told me as much. He set us up, Deputy. You and me. And now he is doing it again. The reason he wanted you to come see me is because he wanted me to kill you.”

“How did he plan for you to do that?”

“He gave me this gun to use,” Clell said, producing the gun but holding it by the barrel, butt first. “It's not loaded.”

Smoke frowned. “It would be kind of hard to kill me with an unloaded gun, wouldn't it?”

“Oh, well, I'm supposed to bluff you with it, make you open the cell door, then take your gun and use it to kill you.”

“Did he really think you could do that?”

“I don't think it matters. Supposedly, if I could pull it off and kill you, that would be good. On the other hand, if you killed me, they would try you for murder, for shooting me in the cell. Either way, it would accomplish the same thing. You would be dead.”

So far, what Dawson was saying made no sense to Smoke. “Do you have any idea why the sheriff wants me dead?”

“Do the names Peters, Stratford, and Richards mean anything to you? They are the ones who want you dead.”

“Do you mean Potter, Stratton and Richards?” Smoke asked quickly.

“Yes, sorry, I just heard the names once, but that's them. Apparently, those names mean something to you.”

“Yeah, they mean a lot to me,” Smoke said. “I've been looking for them for a number of years. And I want them dead as much as they want me dead.”

“Uh-huh.Well, they're the ones who hired Hector to get it done.”

Smoke smiled and shook his head slowly. “I have to hand it to you, Dawson, you said you were going to tell me the damnedest story, and I'd say that you just did.”

“You don't believe me?”

“Not one word of it. Except the part about Potter, Stratton, and Richards. I know they're trying to kill me.”

“Look over there in the sheriff's desk,” Clell said. “If you pull out the middle drawer, you'll find five hundred dollars there. That is the money I'm to be given for killing you. I'm supposed to meet him in Boreas next week, to join him in some sort of deal that he claims will make me a lot more money.”

Smoke walked over to the desk and opened the drawer. “I'll be damned.” He reached in and picked up the packet of money.

“Here's the thing, Deputy. Suppose the bluff did work. Suppose I killed you, and took that money. There would be wanted posters out on me quicker than a wink. I'd be wanted for killing a deputy U.S. marshal. And if you don't believe me now, who would believe me then?”

“You have a point,” Smoke said. “But what convinces me is this money. What sheriff, making forty dollars a month, is going to have five hundred dollars of honest money lying around?”

“So, where do we go from here?” Clell asked.

“Your word alone isn't going to be enough to convict a sheriff. We're going to have to have something more, and the best way to come up with that, I think, would be to go to Boreas.”

“You'll let me have a loaded gun, won't you?”

“Sure, I don't see why not,” Smoke replied with a chuckle.

* * *

Sheriff Hector returned to the jail a short time later to find that both his prisoner and Jensen were gone. The first thing he did was check the middle desk drawer. He was surprised to see that the money was still there.

Leaving the jail, he rode out to a place called Hidden Canyon, which got its name from the fact that a pinnacle rock guarded the entrance to the canyon. Someone who just happened to be riding by wouldn't even know it was there.

Reaching the entrance to the canyon, he pulled his pistol, fired two shots, waited a couple seconds, then fired one more shot. A moment later, he heard the answer—one shot, a pause for a couple seconds, then two shots.

Hector rode on down into the canyon toward a small cabin that was built against the back wall. Glancing over to the right, he saw someone behind a boulder covering him with a rifle. The man smiled at Hector as he stepped out from behind the boulder.

“I thought that might be you,” Eddie Spence said.

“Are Kotter and Mathis in the cabin?”

“Yeah. You got a new job for the three of us?”

“For the four of us,” Hector replied grimly.

“Four of us?”

“I'll explain it all inside.”

The one room cabin was furnished with three cots, a table, three chairs, and a wood-burning stove. The place smelled of bacon recently fried and the musky odor of men who bathed infrequently. A pot of coffee was on the stove, and Sheriff Hector accepted the offer of a cup.

“What's up?” Pete asked. “Do you have a new job for us?”

Eddie jumped right in. “He said he's going to pull the job with us.”

Pete frowned. “You are? Do you think that's a good idea? I mean, you bein' the sheriff and all.”

“Something has come up,” Hector said. “I'm not sure it's going to be safe for me to stay around much longer. So after this job I plan to leave. I would advise you boys to do the same thing.”

“Go where?” Merlin asked.

Hector smiled. “Texas, California, Oregon. Hell, when this job is done, we'll have enough money to go anywhere we want.”

Merlin's eyebrows shot up in wonder. “Really? How much money?”

“Oh, I'd say about twenty-five thousand dollars apiece.”

“Damn! Where are we gonna get that kind of money?” Eddie asked.

“We're going to hold up a gold shipment.”

 

S
hortly after they arrived in town, Smoke and Clell learned that the Boreas mine would soon transfer some gold bullion to Denver. The amount being shipped was said to be worth one hundred thousand dollars.

“That's why you were to meet the sheriff here,” Smoke said. “If he really is behind those robberies, he isn't going to let this shipment get away.”

“Yeah, I think you're right,” Clell said.

“How much did you get?” Smoke asked.

“What?”

“You said you held up a stagecoach. How much did you get?”

“Fifteen hundred dollars.”

“Good, there'll be enough to cover that.”

“Deputy, I don't have an idea in the world what you're talking about. Enough to cover what?”

“Just this,” Smoke replied. “I plan to set up a little surprise for Sheriff Hector and his cronies, and I'm asking you to join me. You don't have to, of course, but there are some pretty big rewards out for the men who dynamited the coach and the train, and because I'm a lawman, I can't collect any of it. That means all of it would go to you.”

“Yeah!” Clell said. “Yeah, that's right!”

“You would probably get enough reward money to pay back that fifteen hundred dollars you stole.”

“Jensen, you and I both know that paying that money back isn't going to get me off the hook for that robbery.”

“No, but if you help me bring in these people, and if you pay back the money you stole, Governor Elbert will grant you a pardon.”

“How do you know that?”

Smoke had a ready answer. “Marshal Holloway and the governor are good friends, and the marshal and I are good friends. I'll talk to Holloway. I know we can get it done.”

“All right,” Clell said, nodding his head. “All right. It's about time I settled down anyway. I've got a good thing going with the saloon and Tommie Kay. I've been afraid to take it any further, but if I get this all put behind me, I could. You've got yourself a deputy, Deputy.”

Smoke shook his head. “I can't deputize you. If I do, you won't be eligible for the reward. You're just going to have to volunteer as a good citizen.”

Clell smiled. “All right. As a good citizen, I hereby volunteer to help you bring to justice Sheriff Hector and his cohorts in crime. Where do we start?”

“We start with the Boreas Gold Mining Company.”

* * *

“Deputy, I appreciate your offer to guard the gold.” Scott Matthews was the president of the BGMC. “But the amount of gold being shipped is valued at more than one hundred thousand dollars. I simply cannot allow you to use that money as bait.”

“Mr. Matthews, you don't understand,” Smoke said. “There will no risk for your gold because it won't actually be the bait. My friend and I will be.”

Matthews frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When do you plan to ship the gold?” Smoke asked instead of answering the question.

“Thursday morning.”

“What arrangements do you normally make when you have a shipment of gold? Who knows how much gold is being shipped? And when and how it is to be shipped?”

“Well, we notify the board of directors for the mine, so they know. We notify the teamsters and guards who will actually be taking the gold, so they would know. And we send a telegram ahead to the bank in Denver, so someone there would know.”

“Does the newspaper carry an announcement of the shipment?”

“Oh. Yes, the announcements in the papers let the stockholders know how well the mine is doing. When it is a particularly large shipment, as this one is, those announcements sometimes bring in additional investments.”

Smoke quickly formulated a plan. “All right. I want you to do everything just as you normally do it, but with one little change. I want you to tell all the same people you normally tell that you actually plan to send it out a day earlier, with only two private detectives guarding it. However, you should tell them that you don't want anyone else to know that.”

“Deputy, didn't you just assure me that the gold wouldn't be used as bait?” Matthews asked.

“I did, and it won't be used as bait. The gold won't actually be in that wagon. It will still be here, safe, ready for you to ship the next day, just as planned.”

Matthews smiled. “Oh. I think I see where you're going with this. You think that someone is going to let the secret out, don't you?”

“I don't just think it, I'm counting on it. When there is this much money involved, someone can be bribed.”

“But what if that doesn't happen? What if there is no attempt to rob the gold?” Matthews asked.

“We'll carry a letter from you to the president of the bank where the gold is being shipped. He will announce that the secret shipment of gold has arrived safely, then you can ship the gold later without anyone knowing about it.”

Matthews contemplated the proposal for a moment or two, then nodded. “All right. I'll go along with the plan. But what about you and your partner? Won't you be putting yourselves in a great deal of danger?”

“You let us worry about that.”

 

 

 

Amon Thomas scurried into the sheriff's office. The fussy little man was the railroad telegrapher.

Sheriff Hector looked up. “Yes, Mr. Thomas, what can I do for you?”

“I'm not sure.”

“What do you mean, you aren't sure?”

“I intercepted a telegram this morning which gave all the details about the gold shipment from Boreas to Denver, and I brought that to you.”

“Yes, you did. And I paid you for it, as you recall.”

Thomas nodded. “Yes, sir, but I just now intercepted another telegram between Boreas and Denver, and it has me confused.”

Hector frowned. “Confused, how?”

“You take a look at it and see what you think.” Thomas handed the telegram to the sheriff.

“Well, now,” Sheriff Hector said with a smile. “I do believe they're trying to pull a fast one.”

“Is this telegram worth something to you?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, Mr. Thomas, it is.” Hector gave the telegrapher a twenty-dollar bill.

“Thank you,” Thomas said, smiling broadly at his unexpected fortune.

 

 

 

As the steel-rimmed wheels rolled away from the mine and across the hard-packed earth, they picked up dirt, causing a rooster tail of dust to stream out behind them. The wood of the wagon was bleached white. In the wagon bed were several boxes, covered by a tarpaulin. The boxes were empty, but covered they presented the illusion of actual cargo.

Clell was driving. “You really think Hector is going to make a try at this?”

Sitting to his right and wearing a sheepskin jacket against the cold, Smoke kept his eyes peeled. “Yeah, I do. After he returned to the jail and found you gone and me not dead, he had to know that he couldn't stay there any longer. And with this much money at stake, he has to make a try for it. He has no choice but to leave.”

They drove on for another half hour, then Smoke saw that two men on horseback were trailing them. They were riding just fast enough to overtake the wagon, but not so fast so as to arouse suspicion.

“Clell, there are two men coming up behind us.”

“Yeah, and there are two more ahead.”

“This can't be a coincidence. Be ready. You take the front two, I'll take the ones in back,” Smoke said.

As if validating Smoke's declaration, the four riders broke into a gallop, closing in with guns drawn.

“Now!” Smoke shouted. The time had come to put their plan into action.

Clell stopped the wagon, then leaped down from it, darting to his left and taking cover in the ditch that paralleled the road. Smoke did the same thing on the right side.

Gunfire started. The valley rang with the sound of shots, and gunsmoke roiled up from the ditches and over the road. None of the robbers dismounted. They were counting on superior numbers to carry the fight, and that was their fatal mistake.

The shooting was all over in less than thirty seconds when four horses, their saddles empty, came galloping by. Two bodies lay in the road ahead of the wagon, and two more were in the road behind.

“Ha!” Smoke shouted. He stood up. “Good shooting, Clell! We got 'em all!” With his Colt still in hand, he stepped into the middle of the road. “First, we'd better make sure they're all dead. I'll check the ones in the back, you check the ones in front.”

“Maybe you'd better check them all, partner,” Clell said from the other side of the road. His voice sounded strained.

“Clell?” Smoke holstered his gun and hurried over to him.

The physician turned gunman was sitting up in the ditch but leaning back against the opposite bank. He was holding his hand over a wound in his right side.

“You're hit! I'm sorry, I didn't realize that.”

“Damn,” Clell said. “Looks like I'm not going to get to spend that reward money, after all.”

“Come on. Let me help you. I'll put you in the wagon and take you to a doctor.”

“No. If you do that, I'll be dead before you get me to the wagon. Just let me lie here for a moment or two, then it'll be over.”

“You don't know that, for sure.”

Clell forced a chuckle. “Yes, I'm afraid I do. I'm a doctor, remember? From the location of this wound, my guess would be that both the spleen and the liver are involved. That means the wound is fatal.”

Although he had heard of Clell Dawson, Smoke had only recently met him, and he believed that a friendship might have developed between them. Now, that wasn't to be.

“I wonder,” Clell said.

“You wonder what?”

“If you hadn't taken my gun from my holster back in the saloon that day, do you think you could have beaten me?”

“I don't know,” Smoke confessed. “That's why I took your gun.”

Clell smiled. “I thought . . . that might be . . . the case,” he said as he drew his last breath.