Dead Freight for Piute
Page 20
Celia nodded mutely.
Cole put the lamp on the cabinet behind him, then turned the table over against the wall. Craig Armin was backed against the stove now. His face was a green color, and all his false courage had left him.
He fumbled around the stove and found the poker, just as Cole came at him. He raised it high over his head, his face twisted with rage, just as Cole’s big fist smashed into his face again. He caromed into the stove, overturned it and landed in a heap in the corner. Cole pounced on him, pulled him up, kicking and fighting, and again he smashed him in the face. Craig Armin sprawled clear across the room and was brought up against the far wall with a crash. The iron-framed mirror crashed to the floor at his feet and the glass broke.
His mouth runneling blood, Craig Armin staggered to his feet, brandishing the mirror frame.
Celia gasped and said, “Cole, watch out!”
But Cole was deaf. He came at Craig Armin, and Armin swung the frame savagely. Cole half broke the force of the blow with his elbow and then he tackled Armin and they went down.
They rolled over and over on the floor, and when they came to a stop, Cole on the bottom, Craig Armin had his hands around Cole’s throat.
Cole pulled them away as if they were straw, and then he gripped Armin by the throat and rolled over on top of him.
He straddled him then and choked him. Cole’s lips were drawn over his teeth and his eyes were hot.
Craig Armin thrashed around on the floor and tore at Cole’s big hands, and his face turned red and then purple.
Celia moaned, “Stop him!”
She and Girard lunged for Cole and tried to pull him off. Just then Linton burst into the room, three townspeople and Letty Burns and Juck behind him, along with a half-dozen teamsters.
Linton rapped out, “Pull him off.”
Juck said, “Leave him be!”
Celia turned and cried, “Juck, help me!”
Juck softened then. He and Linton and Girard and another man tried to pull Cole off. But Cole was crazy with rage.
As they pulled Cole to his feet Craig Armin, locked in those big hands, came too. They fought Cole and tried to break his hold. And they couldn’t. Cole suddenly dropped Craig Armin and then stood there, breathing hard, his arms held by the other men.
Linton bent down over Craig Armin and felt his pulse. Then he picked up a shard of the mirror and held it to Craig Armin’s black lips.
Turning, afterward, he looked at Cole. “Well, you’ve killed him, my boy. Plain, damned murder!”
22
“Murder, hell!” Girard roared. “He tried to kill us!”
“Nevertheless, it’s murder,” Linton said calmly. He stroked his mustache and looked at Cole, who was still breathing deeply, his eyes wild and uncontrolled.
“Careful, Sheriff,” Cole warned. “Be damned careful.”
“That man wasn’t even Craig Armin,” Girard said. He pushed his way through the crowd to Linton. And there, while Cole looked on, Girard told the story of Armin disclosing his real identity. As he talked Linton, who had watched the fight at the compound and had even taken shots at Cole and Ted Wallace, knew that his scheme had met with abysmal failure. Western had won out, and Billings and Craig Armin were dead. And like the true politician he was Linton knew that he had to get on the winning side and do it fast. The best way was by pretending ignorance.
At the finish of Girard’s speech he said, “Well, that’s different. A man has a right to kill in self-defense.” He looked up at the crowd. “Anyone see this ruckus at the compound?”
“I did,” Juck said.
“What happened?”
Juck told him what he had seen. Celia put in what she had seen. When they were finished Linton said, “And where’s Billings?”
“He’s dead,” a teamster said.
“Dead, eh?” Linton said. “Both of them dead—Armin and Billings?”
Letty Burns spoke up quietly. “Didn’t you see it, Sheriff?”
“Why, no,” Sheriff Linton said easily. “I came up the street and somebody told me Craig Armin and Cole were having it out. I ran for the house here.”
“You didn’t know Billings was dead?” Letty insisted.
“Not till about ten seconds ago,” Linton said easily.
Letty strode out to face him, eyes flashing. Suddenly she reached in the top pocket of his vest and pulled out a piece of paper. “How do you explain that check?” Letty said.
Linton, who had already looked at it, said, “Armin gave me that check this morning.”
“You lie,” Letty said. “I was standing in the shadow of those buildings when you took it from Keen Billings’ pocket.”
“You’re lyin’!” Linton said hotly.
Letty wheeled to face Cole. “Maybe this will prove I’m not a traitor, Mr. Armin! I saw Sheriff Linton take that from Billings’ pocket! I saw Billings put it there earlier in the evening.” She pointed an accusing finger at Linton. “How did he know to look in Billings’ pocket for the check if he didn’t know Billings would have it? Answer me that!”
Cole said slowly, “That money was paid to Billings for gulchin’ Ted and me, Linton. How come you knew he’d have it?”
“I forgot,” Linton said weakly. “I did see Billings. I searched him. Part of my job, you know.”
“Then why did you say you didn’t?” Cole insisted.
“I—well, I don’t know.”
Celia said coldly, “You mean you didn’t want to be associated with Billings, Mr. Linton?”
Linton wheeled to face her. “Why shouldn’t I want to be? I tell you I forgot!”
Celia’s voice was sharp with scorn. “I’ll tell you why you didn’t want to be associated with Billings. You were there and watched him try to kill Ted and Cole! You stood there and let them do it!”
“You lie!” Linton shouted.
Celia said swiftly, “You admit you took the check?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re the man,” Celia said. “Because I followed a man out of the wagon yard and down the alley, because I was hunting for Cole. And I saw this man take a paper from Billings’ pocket. If you admit one you admit that you watched Billings try and kill them.”
There was a long silence, and Juck suddenly said, “Any rope around here?”
“No! No!” Linton cried. “You’re lyin’. You’re framing me!”
Cole walked up to him and grabbed him by the coat and twisted him to his knees.
“Juck, get that rope,” Cole said. “This man can’t tell the difference between hangin’ and talkin’ and goin’ free.”
“Wh-what?” Linton asked.
“I said, you’re goin’ to hang if you keep your mouth shut. There’s no law here to stop us, because we’ll lynch you and you’re the law. But if you talk you’ll only get run out of town. You didn’t kill anybody, did you?”
“Lynch him anyway!” Juck growled.
“I’ll talk!” Linton cried. “I want your promise first.”
Cole held out his hand. “Give me a gun.”
Somebody slipped him a gun. “The first man that makes a move toward Linton gets shot,” he announced. “Get up and talk!”
Linton scrambled to his feet. “Billings and me were in it together,” he panted. “We figured to whittle down both the Western and Monarch until Craig Armin paid Billings to kill you and Ted Wallace! Last night Billings shot at Craig Armin, and that swung it. He told Keen to kill you. We planned, after you was dead, to blackmail Armin, to throw him out of Monarch and take it over. With you and Wallace dead, and not many freightin’ companies, we figured to get all the contracts for Monarch. And I could hush it up, being sheriff.” He looked wildly at Cole. “Are you goin’ to free me?”
Cole shoved him toward the door. Then he lifted his booted foot and kicked Linton savagely out the door. They heard him scramble to his feet and run as fast as he could through the night.
Juck said, “I aim to make sure he gets out,” and headed fo
r the door.
“Remember what I said, Juck,” Cole called.
“I ain’t goin’ to hurt him,” Juck growled, and then he grinned. “I’m just goin’ to make almighty sure he leaves town.”
The other teamsters and townspeople followed Juck out. There were only Girard and Letty and Celia left, besides Cole.
Cole said gently, “Letty, I take back everything I said about you.”
Letty smiled. “You were right, Cole.” She put out her hand. “Terribly right—except when you thought I’d sell you out the last time.” She looked at Celia. “I have such a lot to make up to you.”
“Try making it up to Ted,” Celia said in a kindly voice. “I’m sure Mr. Girard will take you back to him, Letty.”
Girard and Letty went out into the night. Celia looked over at Cole, who was watching her.
“Let’s get out of here, Seely,” Cole said. He turned her away from the sight of Craig Armin dead on the floor.
They stepped out into the night and went out to the road. Celia said suddenly, “Cole, no man ever told as big a lie as you did when you said you were leaving town because you were afraid. I know that now. Why did you do it?”
Cole stopped and Celia did too. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I had to, Seely. Haven’t you guessed why?”
“No, Cole. I’ve tried and I can’t.”
“It was on account of somethin’ I saw in your eyes.”
“In my eyes? What?”
Cole hesitated only a moment, then he said quietly, “If I’m wrong, Seely, I’m sorry. You really want me to tell you?”
“I asked, didn’t I?” Celia said in a soft voice.
Cole said gently, “You were rawhidin’ me last night, Celia, because you didn’t want me to go. Did you?”
“No, I didn’t,” Celia confessed.
“That’s what I saw in your eyes,” Cole murmured. “And I had to say I was scared, because I was sinkin’ you and Ted, Seely. I—I …” His voice died away.
“You what, Cole?”
“I loved you so much I couldn’t drag you down with me, I reckon.”
“Oh, Cole,” Celia said softly. “And I loved you so much that I didn’t want to live if you weren’t near me!”
“That’s really what I saw in your eyes,” Cole said.
“Of course you did!” Celia cried. “Are you blind, dear?”
“Only as blind as you, I reckon,” Cole said. “Because I’ve looked the same way a mighty long time.”
“Too long,” Celia said. “Way too long, Cole.”
And Cole kissed her then, because they had talked too much already, and he found that Celia thought so too.
About the Author
Luke Short is the pen name of Frederick Dilley Glidden (1908–1975), the bestselling, award-winning author of over fifty classic western novels and hundreds of short stories. Renowned for their action-packed story lines, multidimensional characters, and vibrant dialogue, Glidden’s novels sold over thirty million copies. Ten of his novels, including Blood on the Moon, Coroner Creek, and Ramrod, were adapted for the screen. Glidden was the winner of a special Western Heritage Trustees Award and the Levi Strauss Golden Saddleman Award from the Western Writers of America.
Born in Kewanee, Illinois, Glidden graduated in 1930 from the University of Missouri where he studied journalism. After working for several newspapers, he became a trapper in Canada and, later, an archaeologist’s assistant in New Mexico. His first story, “Six-Gun Lawyer,” was published in Cowboy Stories magazine in 1935 under the name F. D. Glidden. At the suggestion of his publisher, he used the pseudonym Luke Short, not realizing it was the name of a real gunman and gambler who was a friend of Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp. In addition to his prolific writing career, Glidden worked for the Office of Strategic Services during World War II. He moved to Aspen, Colorado, in 1946, and became an active member of the Aspen Town Council, where he initiated the zoning laws that helped preserve the town.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1939, 1940 by Frederick D. Glidden
Copyright © 1967 by Frederick D. Glidden
Cover design by Andy Ross
ISBN: 978-1-5040-3980-2
This edition published in 2016 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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