by Paul Lederer
‘Just came to see when you were coming,’ Riley answered. ‘The sheriff’s ready to ride.’
‘So are we,’ Rita Poole said. She paused and looked around the house theatrically. ‘It’s hard to leave, no matter the circumstances.’
She turned back to look at Riley, her hands clasped, her eyes lifeless. All of the hysteria, the nervousness, the fear, was gone from her voice, however.
‘Has Bean brought that mare around?’ Goodnight wanted to know.
‘Let’s find out,’ Riley suggested. The daylight was nearly stunning as they exited the dark interior of the cabin. The cottonwood trees surrounding the house flickered and waved in the breeze. David Bean had returned with an old animal which made even his heavy-footed farm horse look flashy. Goodnight eyed the mare with disapproval. Rita, wearing a light black jacket now, apologized to all of them.
‘The man took Bullet, my three-year-old sorrel. The old girl here has been put out to pasture for years. She’s all I have left to ride.’ Rita Poole managed to produce a few tears which filmed her pretty eyes. She dabbed them away with a small, lacy white handkerchief.
‘I only hope it’ll stay on its feet long enough to get you to Ellis,’ Goodnight said.
Everyone had noticed that Goodnight was speaking with more authority now. Lester Burnett asked timidly: ‘Is that where we’re headed? We’re going across the Yavapai?’
‘That’s the plan,’ Goodnight said, and Riley – who had been watching Burnett – thought he saw a small look of triumph or satisfaction cross the townsman’s face. What was that about? Riley could guess, but he tried not to indulge in such sports. It was too easy to be wrong.
Silently then they wove their way through the cottonwood trees and traveled farther along the flat valley floor. Once, through a cut in a low-lying bluff, Riley saw a glittering flicker of silver like sunlight reflecting on water. They would reach the Yavapai that day.
The brooding Fawcett, who must have felt he had failed in some way, would have to make a decision soon, as would all of them. For once they crossed that river, in pursuit of a bank robber or not, they became simply a band of vigilantes without legal justification for any course of action they might choose.
It was a dangerous situation.
Glancing ahead, Riley saw Rita riding closer to Goodnight than he might have expected. The two were chatting, not without animation. Bean and Lester Burnett rode widely separate, yet they seemed to share a common optimism. Fawcett looked as if he were riding his last mile. Billy and Riley trailed, neither of them with much confidence displayed.
‘Sheriff Fawcett said you might tell me … if you felt like it,’ Billy coaxed Riley as he rode nearer.
‘Tell you what?’ Riley said, looking away from the blond kid.
‘That’s what I don’t know,’ Billy persisted. ‘What you are, who you are, what you’re going to do at the Yavapai. You see, Riley, I have to decide too. Maybe it’s best for me if I just ride back to Quirt with Fawcett. If I’m not a deputy any more, what do I care about Jake Worthy and all of this?’
‘It might be the best idea,’ Riley said.
‘Does that mean you’re not going to tell me?’ Billy asked. ‘The sheriff said that I’d be all right if I stuck by your side and listened to you. Well, here I am, riding at your side, but you sure aren’t telling me much.’ There was obvious frustration in Billy Dewitt’s voice.
Riley considered for a few minutes, then shrugged. What difference did it make if Dewitt knew who Riley was and what had brought him here?
‘It all started,’ Riley said, ‘just before my first bank robbery ….’ Billy Dewitt gawked at him. Riley shook his head. ‘Listen to me first. I was in a little town down south, Cannel by name.
‘The day was summer-hot and I was beat down. Hungry – I hadn’t eaten in two days. I was so dirty the town dogs would sniff and then detour far around me. I had no place to go and no money to get there with.
‘I was standing in an alley just to get some shade from the buildings around me. My eyes settled on a little flat-roofed green building across the street. It had a sign on it, “Merchants Bank of Cannel”. I looked long and hard at that little crackerbox of a bank, considering the possibilities.’
‘So you robbed it?’ Billy asked. He was almost breathless. Ahead now they could both see the narrow, silver-blue band of Yavapai Creek wending its way through the trees and willow brush. Riley didn’t have much time to spin the yarn out. He told it as simply and quickly as he could.
‘As I was standing there, a man slipped up beside me. He was round, short, smoked a stubby pipe, and moved on his feet like a cat. I hadn’t even heard him approaching.’
‘ “Hot and dry again,” ’ is what he said to me. “Have you got a match?”’
‘I wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but he persisted. “My name’s Royle,” he said, lighting his pipe with the match I’d given him. I just told him I was pleased to meet him. “Looking for work in town, are you?” Royle asked. “Not at the moment,” ’ I said, growing a little irritated with the man.
‘ “I, myself am employed here,” the little man said. “I work all around.” Royle waved his pipe, indicating a wide territory.
‘ “What are you?” I asked. “Some sort of drummer?” He shook his head, those shrewd little eyes of his squinted a little. He told me, “No, my young friend, I am employed as an operative in the enforcement arm of the Territorial Bank Examiner’s office.”
‘Oh, was all I could think of to say,’ Riley told Billy. ‘Royle went on to tell me that his job was to track down bank embezzlers, robbers, wrongdoers of any sort associated with the banking business. He went on to explain that thieves thought they had lost the law once they had gotten past the town limits, left the county, crossed a state line.
‘ “The local law doesn’t have the resources or the time to spend tracking them all down,” Royle told me. “Me, I’ve got all the time in the world, son, all the time in the world.” Then he just turned and ambled off.
‘I don’t know how Royle could have known what I had in mind on that hot, dreary day, but if what he had said wasn’t a warning, it was the next thing to it. I gave up the idea of robbing the Cannel bank.’
‘And you never saw the little man again?’ Billy Dewitt asked.
‘Oh, I saw him again. That very night I walked to his hotel room and asked him if there was any chance of getting hired on to a job like his. I worked for him for years, until he retired. I still work for the Bank Examiner’s office.’ Riley paused and glanced at the riders ahead of them, at the near river. ‘And I’m still doing the same work that Royle hired me on for.’
‘You’re after Jake Worthy.’
‘More precisely I’m after the money he took. I don’t even have the authority to arrest the man once we do find him. My obligation begins and ends with retrieving the money,’ Riley said.
‘But the thieves, the bank robbers,’ Billy said. ‘They can’t often be willing to turn the money over to you.’
‘Seldom,’ Riley answered, ‘and that’s when the job gets interesting.’
They were starting down a grassy incline toward Yavapai Creek now. ‘How did you even know to come up to Quirt?’ Billy asked.
‘I didn’t. I was on my way back from up north and needed some rest. I stopped at Quirt and the stick-up happened. I figured I’d better join the posse. Otherwise I probably would have to have ridden back to Tucson just to be sent out again. To Quirt.’
‘You live an exciting life,’ Billy said with a trace of envy.
‘Do I? It does have its moments,’ Riley agreed. ‘But it’s damned tiring, brutal in fact. I travel far and hard and often it’s for nothing.’
‘Men do get away from you, then.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Riley was forced to admit. ‘I’ve had them outdistance me, outsmart me and ambush me. Sometime it seems that I’ve spent as much time on my back recovering from gunshot wounds as I have riding the last few years.’
�
��You’re not married,’ Billy said. It was a half-question.
‘Yes, I am. We have a place down in Crater, a very small town without much to put it on anyone’s map. My wife, Dusty, knows me well enough that she realizes if I ever had to stay at home and just sit on the front porch rocker, within a year I’d put a bullet through my own head, or she would have to because I’d be stark raving mad.
‘Dusty has a lot of friends and a lot of patience. We’ve carved out an unlikely way to live, but it suits us.’
Billy nodded. Ahead he could see that Goodnight had already led his horse to water, as had Rita Poole. The two seemed to be in close conversation. ‘That seems odd,’ Billy commented. ‘They’re getting along famously for two people who have only known each other for a few hours. What do you think, Riley?’
‘Oh, I think you have a point, Billy, and I believe I know what the secret to it is.’
‘Can you let me in on it?’ Billy Dewitt asked eagerly. Riley only shook his head. Others were within earshot now. Besides, the kid was probably better off living in ignorance. Seeing he was not going to get an answer to his question, Billy only asked urgently, ‘You’re crossing the river with them, aren’t you? You have to, don’t you?’
‘I have to,’ the tall man agreed.
‘I’m going too,’ Billy said with conviction. ‘Would you do me one favor before we go on? Will you tell me what your real name is, Riley? I won’t tell anyone. I won’t speak it.’
‘Laredo,’ the man called Riley said. ‘They call me Laredo.’
The western sky was a swirl of tangled color as low, filmy clouds were blown south across the sundown sky. Yavapai Creek ran deep and dark, its surface colored with reflected purples and deep reds. Sheriff Fawcett had already gathered the members of his posse on the river bank, beneath the wide-spreading sycamore trees that grew there. As Billy and Laredo approached he whistled for the attention of the others.
‘All right,’ Fawcett began. He had removed his hat and now stood turning it in his thick hands. ‘As you all know this is the point of decision for me, and no matter what my instincts prompt me to do, I cannot justify crossing the county line to follow Jake Worthy.
‘You men are free to do what your consciences dictate, of course. I suppose you may as well hand back your badges since they mean nothing at all once you cross the creek. I release you from your honest effort on behalf of the town of Quirt and the county,’ he said as if reciting some sort of set piece he had spoken often in the past. Probably he had.
There was nothing more to be said. Holding out his hat, Sheriff Fawcett gathered the badges that the men were unpinning from shirt fronts and vests. As they clicked together in his Stetson, Fawcett caught Laredo’s eye and motioned with his head. Laredo nodded.
‘Well?’ Fawcett said as the last badge was discarded. ‘Does anyone wish to ride back with me to Quirt?’
‘I guess I’ll go on with the others,’ David Bean said, looking toward Goodnight, who had assumed the mantle of leadership now. The others agreed. Rita Poole stood watching them, the late shadows masking her expression.
‘Billy?’ the sheriff asked as if he were eager for a trail partner.
‘No, sir,’ Billy Dewitt answered. ‘I believe I’ll go along and see if we can’t run Worthy down.’
‘All right,’ Fawcett said, removing the badges with one hand and planting his hat firmly with the other. ‘Just remember, men, you’re nobody special now in the eyes of any local law you might encounter. Your rights are only those of any private citizen. Bring Worthy in if you can. I know the citizens of Quirt would be grateful.’
‘Grateful enough to offer us a reward?’ Lester Burnett asked with a sneer.
‘You’d know about that better than I would, Mr Burnett,’ the sheriff said. He paused and said in parting, ‘Boys, try to catch the man, try not to break any laws, and try to keep yourselves safe.’
They were pointless words. They had already quit listening and were now gathering around Jesse Goodnight to await new instructions. Fawcett shuffled toward his horse, Laredo trailing after him as the sheriff had requested with his nod. Tightening his cinch, the sheriff spoke to Laredo across his gray horse’s back.
‘Think you can manage them, Riley?’
‘No. No, I don’t. I doubt that Goodnight even wants me along. It’s his show now.’
‘Yes,’ Fawcett sighed. ‘I can see that. I should have known this was coming – I guess I did.’
‘I don’t know what else you could have done,’ Laredo said as the sheriff swung into leather. From the creek they heard a woman’s laugh – short, merry.
Laredo asked Fawcett, ‘Do you think that she is—?’
‘Yes, I do. Don’t you, Riley?’
‘I do, yes,’ he nodded. He shook the sheriff’s hand. ‘Watch yourself going back along the trail – that farmer will still be good and mad.’
‘I know,’ Fawcett said, as his gray tossed its head, eager to be going. ‘Him and that sniper.’
‘He won’t be bothering you any,’ Laredo believed.
Fawcett’s eyes narrowed. ‘No? You’ve got him figured out now, too, do you?’
‘I think so. If I’m right, he won’t be looking for you, but he will be coming with us, and he’s not going to quit until he’s spilled some blood.’
FIVE
Laredo walked back through the trees to the river-bank, expecting to find the men settling in for the night after the long dry ride, but they were too eager for that. Like hounds straining to be released from their leashes, their faces were flushed, eyes eager in the dim light of dusk.
‘The girl’s right,’ Jesse Goodnight was telling the others from horseback as Laredo approached the group of men. ‘Ellis is where Jake Worthy has gone. It’s the only place along this trail. It’s the only place he could be. He knows he’s across the county line now, and he’s got plenty of money to make himself comfortable with. We’re going to drop Rita at her aunt’s and then spread out and search Ellis. Look in the stables for those horses, look in every saloon and ask at the hotels. Because he’s there – but if I have my way he won’t be having such a comfortable time of it come morning. Mount up, boys, we’re going snake hunting.’
Goodnight received what Laredo could only term a silent cheer for his speech. Eager, animated, the broken posse started across the Yavapai, set to make their fortunes from another man’s blood.
Crossing the narrow, dark river they achieved dry ground again and were soon riding across country that was dotted with many live-oak trees, much scrub oak and sage. It wasn’t a garden spot, but it made it seem as if the world had come to life again after some of the bleak land they had passed. The dusk provided only a narrow purple band along the mountain ridge when they approached the small town of Ellis. They rode more quickly now than they had for days, each man leaning forward in the saddle, eager and greedy looks on their faces. The gleaming lights from Ellis might have been so many glittering gold pieces, the way they were clutched at by their hungry eyes.
Goodnight drew them up at the outskirts of town. He announced, ‘Men, first I’ve got to take Miss Poole home. To her aunt’s house. The rest of you are free to treat yourselves to food and drinks.’
‘I believe I’ll ride along with you,’ Laredo said and Goodnight’s head spun toward him.
‘We don’t need you, Riley!’ Goodnight said, with what was nearly a reptilian hiss.
‘You never can tell,’ Laredo answered evenly. ‘We’ve brought the lady all this way safely, but there’s still a dangerous man around somewhere. I’d feel better if she had more than one man escorting her.’
Jesse Goodnight’s face had frozen its expression, but there was no argument to be made against Laredo’s reasoning. Quietly Billy said, ‘I’ll go too.’ He knew that some game was being played between the two older men. Although he didn’t understand it, he didn’t wish to miss out on its conclusion.
‘Three’s plenty,’ Lester Burnett said. ‘Me, I’m for whiskey and a ste
ak.’
‘That suits me,’ Bean agreed instantly.
‘All right, then,’ Goodnight said, ‘that’s the way it is. Burnett, Bean – keep your eyes open, because Riley is right about one thing. Jake Worthy is still around.’
Then, without further words, Goodnight yanked his pony’s head toward an intersecting lane and started down it, Rita Poole trying to keep up on her aged, tiring mare. Rita’s face, in the brief glimpse Laredo had of it, was furious. Laredo and Billy fell in behind, riding silently. Billy had questions, but he held them in as they followed the dusty byway down into a narrow gully where sagebrush grew as high as a horse’s head. They could smell water in the cool depth of the cut, but saw none. A mile or so on, the gully exhausted itself and flat land opened up ahead of them. They could see lantern light from the widely scattered cottages across the valley, beckoning home-comers.
Goodnight and Rita Poole did not speak now as they rode directly toward the second house they passed and into a yard where dry yellow grass grew, a single white oak flourished and a small black dog emerged from somewhere, furiously barking its warning.
‘Shut up, Paco!’ Rita shouted at the dog, but it did nothing to quiet it.
Laredo noticed a small wooden sign with a name burned into it hanging above the front door as it was swung open by a hunched, frail-looking woman holding a lantern.
‘Who is it?’ the woman’s cracked voice called nervously.
‘It’s only me, Auntie!’ Rita called out. ‘Can’t you do something to shut this dog up?’
Without speaking, Goodnight swung down from the saddle and untied the small satchels Rita had brought with her from her home. Taking them to the porch, he touched his hat to the old woman and turned away without speaking. Rita called after him, ‘Goodbye, Mr Goodnight. Thank you, men.’
Laredo answered, ‘Goodnight, Bonnie Sue,’ and heard a snarl escape from Goodnight’s lips before he spun his horse around harshly and rode away toward Ellis at a rapid canter. Grinning, Laredo led the way from the yard, leaving Billy even more perplexed. The little dog’s frenetic barking followed them for half a mile.