by Abe Dancer
‘Neat as a pin,’ Harve agreed.
‘When Billy decided to leave by the front door, the plan was spoiled,’ Houston continued. ‘But he tracked Billy until he was sure where he was headed, then figured he’d die anyway. He started worrying again when he learned I was going after Billy with supplies and water.’
‘You reckon?’ Harve asked.
‘Yeah, unless you got another, better idea,’ Houston countered. ‘Mine’s the only one I got.’
‘You reckon Levitch was the one who took a shot at you at the creek?’ Billy demanded.
Houston nodded. ‘Him or Savotta. Levitch couldn’t afford for me to find you. He could have guessed easy where I was headed.’
‘Guesses an’ ideas ain’t much use where Billy’s headed,’ Harve fretted.
‘That’s my problem,’ Houston agreed. ‘I’ve got something to do. Savotta and his partner will have to be kept out of sight. So, if there’s a shovel in the wagon. . ..?’
‘You’re not servin’ ’em up to Sheriff Games, then?’ Gramps asked.
‘No. Levitch might be with him.’
‘Sounds like Dod Levitch’s future has got as much prospect as mine had,’ Billy huffed.
‘The law don’t take to one of its own going bad,’ Houston said. He got to his feet, moved away from the fire and stared south. A couple hundred yards from the trail he could see high mesquite, beyond which started the foothills of the Black Mountains. ‘Somewhere out there’s fine,’ he suggested and pointed.
‘For what?’ Harve asked.
‘The next Carrick camp. It’ll give your boy a chance to get some strength back into him.’
‘I . . . we thought you were takin’ him. An’ I couldn’t let you do that,’ Harve said.
‘I won’t be taking Billy into town. I knew you’d say something like that and I didn’t want to put you in such a corner,’ Houston proposed. ‘I’ll take his bloody shirt instead. It don’t mean a thing of course, but it’ll help the eyes of their minds.’
‘He stays here?’ Ma asked hopefully.
‘Yes. Instead, I want to take Mimsy. It’s a big ask I know . . . the biggest. But right now, it’s the best way to help I can think of.’
‘How can the girl help?’ the girl’s ma demanded.
‘Because she’s interested in acting,’ Houston said and looked towards Mimsy. ‘And in Bullhead right now, there’s boards just waiting to be trodden on.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Mimsy joined in.
‘You will,’ Houston promised. ‘I’ll explain while we’re riding. It’ll be a matinee performance.’
‘You’ve got to make it all a lot plainer before Mimsy rides anywhere with you, mister,’ Harve warned.
‘OK. The way I see it, Levitch has got to be tricked into a wrong move. Let him think he’s succeeded . . . that it’s over and there’s no more risk. I reckon Miss Mimsy can help.’ Houston continued to explain, but his small audience met his plan with little conviction.
‘I know. But this side of shooting Levitch, what else is there?’ he asked.
From Mimsy there was a spark of keenness. ‘I can do it,’ she declared. ‘I can try, for Billy.’
‘Thanks, Sis. You always were good at puttin’ it on,’ Billy said. ‘Just don’t overdo it.’
‘That’ll be difficult,’ Houston added. ‘Any girl would be near hysterical with seeing her brother killed.’ He eyed Harve and Ma solemnly. ‘I’ll take good care of her, Mrs Carrick. You can’t suddenly stop trusting me.’
Gramps voiced his assurance. ‘I reckon he’s levellin’ with us,’ he said. ‘I reckon he’ll do right by Mimsy. He has all o’ us so far. Billy would likely be dead twice over if it wasn’t for him. Besides, the kid knows how to look after herself.’
‘All right, Mr Houston,’ Harve conceded. ‘But remember, she’s our daughter.’
‘If you ride now, you can reach Bullhead early tomorrow afternoon. You’ll get no more’n a couple o’ hours sleep tonight, though,’ Billy said.
‘There’ll come a time when I catch up on that,’ Houston replied. ‘My eagerness – if that’s the right word – is about as palpable as yours. I can still sense that bullet thumping past my neck.’
‘Just remember what Pa said about our Mimsy,’ Billy concluded. ‘She ain’t anyone’s bait.’
CHAPTER 13
Mid-afternoon the following day, Dod Levitch walked out of Bullhead’s telegraph office. Ahead of him along the main street, Myron Games was sitting quietly on the porch outside of the jailhouse. His left leg was resting on the low rail of the balustrade.
‘No news, I bet,’ he said as Levitch approached.
The deputy shook his head. ‘No, nothin’. I did like you said an’ wired every lawman for as far as they could have ridden . . . even further. Seems there’s been no riders spendin’ big. Whoever robbed the bank’s keepin’ their purse strings well drawn.’
‘There’s no one in Bullhead will ever see that money again . . . Billy Carrick neither,’ Games sighed.
‘At least you know Chester’s killer got what was comin’ to him. It’s some consolation,’ Levitch said.
‘I don’t get much consolation from that, Dod. And it’s none for Mrs Jarrow.’ The sheriff’s piercing blue eyes narrowed as he squinted along the main street. ‘I’m wonderin’ about the bounty killer . . . Houston. What happened to him?’
‘He could be dead too,’ Levitch suggested. ‘It makes some sort o’ sense.’
‘I don’t know,’ Games pondered. ‘If he was totin’ plenty water an’ fixin’s, it’s possible he could’ve reached the boy in time. It ain’t impossible.’ He shrugged forlornly. ‘If Houston had found him, he’d have been back in town by now.’
A half hour later, Houston and Mimsy Carrick arrived at the outskirts of Bullhead. They rode in from the west, quietly and steadily to near the middle of town. Houston wasn’t ready to show himself anywhere on, or even close to the main street, but he was looking to have a few words with Orville Land.
‘You wait right here, and I mean right here, Mimsy,’ he said, as they reined up in the lane behind the hotel. If anybody gets curious while I’m in there, you know what to say. I won’t be more than a minute or two, then we’ll go see the sheriff and you’ll get your walk-on part.’
‘Scene one, act one,’ Mimsy answered and smiled. ‘I’m ready if you are.’
Houston dismounted, walked quickly across the hotel’s back yard to the rear door. Someone gave him a careless glance as he moved through the kitchen area to the lobby, but said nothing. The front area of the hotel was deserted, except for Land who was writing mechanically on a pad of foolscap.
‘Make sure the name’s spelled right,’ he said.
Land stopped writing and looked up. He brushed the side of his big nose with his hand, grinned a greeting. ‘Mr Houston. Glad to see you back . . . safely. Did you find what you were after?’
‘I’ll tell you later.’ Houston got closer, flicked a glance towards the entrance. ‘Right now, I’m in need of your help.’
‘Certainly. That is, if I can be. . . .
‘Well if you can, I’ll make it worth your time.’
‘I take it you’re not talking money?’
‘No. Your currency . . . sort of. A fat chapter written as an eyewitness and as it happens. What do you say?’
‘What do you want me to do?’ Land replied promptly.
Houston dropped his voice. ‘Chances are I’m getting to the nub of the Jarrow killing and the whereabouts of all those dollars. You could be with the story . . . the whole story, just by using your eyes and ears.’
‘Yes. So, tell me,’ Land said.
‘I want you to keep an eye on the deputy sheriff.’
‘Dod Levitch?’
‘Yeah, him. He’s going to leave town shortly, and when he does, I want to know where he’s headed. When you’re sure of the route he’s taking, come back and tell me. I’ll be with Games at the law office. Do you reckon you can do t
hat? There’s not a heap of folk I can ask, you’ll appreciate.’
‘I can manage it,’ Land affirmed. ‘You think he’s involved?’
‘My thinking’s no more than that,’ Houston countered. ‘At the moment I’m just riding with a gut feeling. But there’s a story waiting . . . and it won’t be fiction. Not unless you’re tooling up with a six-shooter as the dime-novel hero. That bit don’t matter to me.’
‘Well it does to me, Mr Houston. Heroes are usually brave for just a few minutes longer. I’m looking for something more long-term. As for our deputy, I did see him a short while ago. He was out on the law office porch, talking to Games.’
Houston nodded. ‘Good. That’s where I’m off to now. Unless I’m making a big mistake, Levitch won’t be staying around. That’s when you join the party. Just don’t let him see you.’
‘I won’t. Me and saddles don’t have natural rapport, so I’ve got a buggy to get ready.’
‘Whatever’s normal,’ Houston showed Land a tight but friendly enough grin, walked back towards the kitchen and the way out.
‘All set. Now we can ride through to the main street,’ he said, taking back the reins of the charcoal mare from Mimsy.
‘And then I get to play the part?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Yeah. But not just in the street, remember. There’s an audience. Small but significant. You reckon you can do it? Cry those tears?’
‘I’ve done it before,’ Mimsy assured. ‘I could always start a blubber to fool Pa or Billy . . . sometimes even Ma.’
‘OK. Right now you only got to fool Deputy Levitch. Let’s go.’
They walked their horses along the side alley and into the main street. As they made their way to the law office, people on the sidewalk slowed, paused to eye them with curiosity. Mimsy rode slump-shouldered, started her sobbing act and Houston was suitably considerate. Only once, and under his breath did he have to advise restraint.
On the law office porch, Myron Games sat stiffly upright. Even at a distance, Houston could see Levitch was struggling to control his feelings, uncertain how to play the hand he knew was about to be dealt him. And there was no doubt in Houston’s mind now as to the identity of the man who had taken a shot at him as he attempted to cross the creek. Won’t be long now, you son-of-a-bitch, he thought with a feeling that verged on satisfaction.
Levitch’s black Stetson was hung on Houston’s saddle horn. He detached it as he reined in by the steps, tossed it casually up to the deputy.
‘Not the sort of headgear you’d want to lose forever. I was told it’s yours,’ he said flatly.
‘Yeah that’s mine . . . no mistake,’ Levitch answered with a return of the coolness.
‘I can’t do the same for your Colt,’ Houston continued. ‘Carrick says it fell in a gopher hole.’
‘You caught up with him?’ Games demanded. The sheriff laboured up from his deck chair, gained some balance and looked hard towards Mimsy. ‘Does she have to be here?’
‘No, she doesn’t, but I said she could ride along,’ Houston responded. ‘It’s hard seeing your brother shot down in cold blood.’
‘You shot him?’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Houston shook his head, noticed inquisitive locals were drawing closer, bending their route for a sense of the home excitement. ‘I caught up with him in the desert. We had a few words, then rode to his father’s cabin for fresh horses.’
‘An’ he didn’t try an’ stop you?’ Levitch interjected. ‘That ol’ goat shoots at anythin’ ain’t called Carrick.’
Houston shook his head. ‘The boy’s family all wanted him to come back and stand trial. Young Billy didn’t take kindly to the idea, of course, but we didn’t give him much choice. When we started back along the Bullhead trail, Miss Mimsy insisted on riding with us. I didn’t want to get ambushed again and she said she knows the lay of the land as well as anyone.’
‘As well as any goddamn coyote,’ Levitch muttered.
‘What’s this about an ambush?’ Games asked.
‘Twice,’ Houston corrected. ‘At the creek before going into that wasteland after Carrick. Someone took a shot at me and I played fish . . . dead fish.’
‘You didn’t get a look at him then?’ Levitch asked the heavy question.
‘Another no.’ Houston frowned, tried to keep his emotions in check. ‘He was too far away.’
‘If you weren’t hit, why the hell didn’t you chase him down? That sort of thing could be a real hindrance to one’s career. A man like you,’ Games wondered aloud.
‘That’s what I thought, but I wanted to find Carrick.’ Houston stopped short of flicking a look at Levitch as he spoke. ‘Besides, I knew there’d be some other time.’
‘Come inside,’ Games said, limping awkwardly to the office door. ‘I want to know eveythin’ that happened. Dod, look to the girl. She comes too.’
Houston swung down, unfastened his saddlebag and took out Billy Carrick’s raggedy, blood-stained shirt. Mimsy stared at it, immediately choked, shook her head in distress.
‘Sorry, Mimsy. I made a mistake,’ Houston acknowledged. ‘And I’m sure there’ll be a few more before the day’s done. You best get used to it.’
Anxiously, Levitch watched as Mimsy dismounted, followed her up the steps after Games and Houston.
‘Put the goddamn wood in the hole,’ Games rasped when they were all inside. ‘Those gawpin’ towners have seen an’ heard enough.’ He lowered himself into his chair and Mimsy sat miserably on the office couch.
Levitch stood with his back to the door. It looked like he was blocking the route for anyone trying to escape, but Houston knew it was only the appearance. The deputy was tense, but he was covering his emotions.
‘Miss Mimsy wanted to head for home, but she’s a witness,’ Houston said and dropped the remains of Billy’s shirt onto the sheriff’s desk. Games stared hard then frowned.
‘Carrick’s shirt,’ he said, simply.
‘Yeah,’ Houston said. ‘It don’t prove anything . . . just about the most of what’s left of him.’
‘What the hell happened?’ Games asked.
‘They’re gunshot wounds, for chris’sakes!’ Houston snapped back. ‘We were ambushed. Two turkeys with rifles blew him clear of the saddle.’
‘And?’ Levitch pitched in.
‘I got angry and they got dead.’
Games smirked icily. ‘But you didn’t fetch in the bodies. Hell, you should have, an’ you know it,’ he rasped.
‘In this heat?’ Houston answered. ‘As far as I’m concerned there’s no point. I buried them with Carrick, and I’ll take whatever rate this county’s paying for burials.’
‘Did they talk before they died?’ Games pursued.
‘Not the way I shot them, no.’ Houston returned the chilly expression.
‘So, did you recognize ’em?’ Levitch tried to keep his voice unworried and unfussed.
‘One of them could have been familiar. But that’s about all. No time or place.’
‘How about Carrick?’ Games wanted to know. ‘Didn’t he tell you anythin’ about where the loot was? No mention of it?’
‘Of course he didn’t say. Why the hell would he?’ Houston returned. ‘I don’t think it was uppermost in his mind when I found him. He was hardly strong enough to stand. Later, when we changed horses at the Carrick place, he was stronger, but he kept his mouth shut. All he kept saying was, was that he was gallows bait. Huh, I guess that’s the part he got right. He got tired of denying that he’d killed Jarrow . . . tired of everything at the end.’
‘My brother Billy wasn’t a murderer,’ Mimsy sobbed. ‘An’ he wouldn’t steal for his supper, even.’
‘OK, girl, it’s too bad you had to see it happen,’ Games replied. ‘But like Houston’s already told you, cryin’ an’ protestin’ ain’t goin’ to make it any easier.’ The sheriff switched his attention to his deputy. ‘Well Dod, I guess that’s just about the end of all this.’
For a short moment Lev
itch didn’t respond. ‘Yeah,’ he faltered as though in reserve about the sheriff’s deliberation. ‘Yeah, looks like it.’
‘The end of the action anyways. There’s still some whys an’ wherefores, eh Houston . . . some unanswered questions?’ Games said as though leading Houston.
‘What’s your thinking, Sheriff?’
‘I’m wonderin’ if those turkeys you met up with were those who helped Carrick crack the bank. Surely you searched ’em?’
Houston took money from his pocket and tossed it onto the desk. ‘There’s about forty dollars there. Nothing in their traps was worth a sous. They were without identity of any sort. That’s how I buried them . . . with their guns.’
‘An’ where was that?’ an increasingly thoughtful-looking Levitch demanded.
‘Somewhere too good for them. About five miles back you can see a big curve in the mesquite. Beyond it’s the foothills . . . a good view of the trees. They’re fifty yards off the trail, not too deep down if you want to pay a visit,’ Houston said.
‘I know where it is,’ Levitch said.
‘Good, I reckon we ought . . .’ Games started.
‘Yeah, I know what you’re goin’ to say,’ the deputy interrupted.
‘We’ve got to make an effort to identify those bush-whackers,’ Games advised. ‘It shouldn’t be too difficult . . . nothin’s settled down yet. But don’t forget to take a shovel.’
‘I’ll get goin’,’ Levitch nodded.
To Houston’s way of thinking, Levitch’s ready acceptance of such an offensive task was out of character. But it also carried a hint of relief.
Levitch was gone within moments. Games was going to say something more, but Houston moved to the front window and silenced him with a curt gesture.
‘Give him a minute or two, Mimsy,’ he said. ‘Then you can get what’s in my saddle-bag.’
Mimsy coughed lightly and got to her feet. Games’ jaw dropped a fraction.
‘What are you two up to?’ he grated.
‘It’s the end of act one,’ Mimsy said, almost smiled as she walked to the door.
‘What the hell’s goin’ on, Houston? Where’s she goin’?’