McAllister 4

by Matt Chisholm

  The vein in Brevington’s forehead swelled. His fists clenched. Then slowly he subsided. He was slowly getting to the point he wanted to reach.

  ‘I’m trying to get something into your thick skull,’ he said.

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘How to make you show some sense and face up to the realities of the world.’ There was almost a pleading note in Brevington’s voice. Here was a man trying desperately to be understood.

  ‘Well,’ said McAllister with a charming smile, ‘you start, off with a bribe.’

  The colonel looked at him like a man who was not too sure whether he was being mocked or not. ‘How much?’ he asked gently.

  ‘Whatever my price is,’ McAllister told him, ‘and whatever it’s made up of, you don’t have the right kind of thing and if you did there wouldn’t be enough of it.’

  ‘You’re making a grave mistake,’ Brevington said. ‘I’m making you an offer in a civilized way. Use your sense and take it.’

  McAllister said: ‘I should have known better than to come,’ and headed for the door.

  With sudden urgency, the colonel said: ‘Wait.’

  McAllister stopped and turned at the door.

  Brevington said: ‘There are more ways than one of stopping a man.’

  McAllister considered him gravely for a moment and then said: ‘Now you’re talking my kind of language, Brevington. Now we get to the threat. There’s a bullet somewhere out there waiting for me. You won’t hold the gun nor fire the shot. Your kind never do. There’s Dom Lawson all ready and willing. You sanctimonious bastard, you’d use a cutthroat and a horse thief to do a job you’re too damned scared to do yourself.’ He opened the door and added as an afterthought: ‘I hope you know the number of men who’ve tried it before. Just bear this in mind: when I’ve killed Lawson, I shall come looking for you. You’d best be hidden or a long ways off. If you had any sense, you’d run now because pretty soon nobody in this territory is going to want to know you.’

  He left the room then and slammed the door behind him. Brevington stayed very still and said to himself over and over again: ‘I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Dom Lawson was shaking with rage when McAllister left him to stride into the barrack room. The horse thief at once ran around the building and started searching in the snow for the gun McAllister had hurled over the building. The light was beginning to go now. The snow on this far side of the building was at least two feet deep. It took the man a good ten minutes to find the weapon. When finally he retrieved it, he realized that he had no more than half-heard the scrimmage which had taken place in the barrack room. He put this down to some horse-play among the soldiers.

  As soon as the Colt gun was in his hands, he dried it as best he could with his bandanna, emptying out the loads and knocking off the percussion caps. Drying the chambers was a tedious chore and it took time in the poor light which rapidly turned to full dark. He worked on by the dim lamplight that came from the windows of the building. Then he had to reload. He found that his hands were shaking, partly from cold and partly from his fury which had not subsided. He hated anybody to touch him. To have hands laid on him violently was more than he could bear.

  He knew that he was going to kill a man. He knew that he did not care how many witnesses there were to the act.

  Now he hurried back along the side of the building and turned the corner to the door. As the barrack room came into his view, he saw a tall figure walking down the length of it towards him. Hastily, he ducked back out of sight. He watched McAllister leave the building and head at an angle across the parade ground. Lawson know that he was going to see Brevington. That damn fool Brevington, he should know that a man like McAllister could not be persuaded by words. He could not be persuaded by anything, not even a bullet. He had to be stopped. And Lawson, under Brevington’s protection, was the man to stop him. Lawson knew that, if McAllister had to be stopped by force, Brevington wanted the shooting to take place at the right time and under the right circumstances. Such thoughts were quite foreign to the gunman. If you wanted a man killed, you shot him and that was the end of it. You took your chance on whether you answered to the law for the crime or not.

  Lawson’s rage still rode him. So he stayed near the barrack building and watched Brevington’s door. He was very cold and he put on his heavy gloves so that his right hand might be warm enough to handle the gun.

  He waited until his patience began to wear thin and the simple idea of going into Brevington’s quarters and shooting McAllister down seemed good. He started across the open space and walked into the cold north wind. For a moment, it almost stopped him in his tracks. Its cold blast penetrated his clothing and seemed to cut through his flesh to the very bone.

  He was halfway across the parade ground when the door to Brevington’s room opened and the silhouette of a large man appeared black against the lamplight within. Lawson knew this was the best target he would have offered to him tonight. Hastily, he shucked the glove on his right hand and reached the gun out from his belt inside the buffalo coat. The butt was ice-cold to his grip.

  As he lined the gun up for the careful shot, McAllister stepped forward and slammed the door behind him. With the sudden cutting off of the lamplight, Lawson lost sight of him completely for a moment. For that moment, he debated if he should put the gun away and wait for a better opportunity. As he did so, he glimpsed McAllister, or so he thought, against the lamplight of a window. Lawson turned himself slightly and fired.

  He heard the crash and tinkle of glass. His target cried out in a shrill alarm and Lawson knew that he had fired at the wrong man. He turned, trying to probe the semi-darkness with his sight.

  He saw the muzzle flash before he heard the dull report of the big revolver. A bullet whined past his ear, alarmingly close. But he was not a man who lost his nerve under fire. He knew that the muzzle flash was the best target he might be offered that night. He fired two shots and knew as he did so that the man he aimed at had rolled and was now shooting from another position. It came to Lawson with an undeniable clarity that he would never win while he was standing out here in the open, most likely a clear target against the white snow. So he did what was the only thing a sensible man in his position could do – he turned and ran. McAllister fired two more shots and then there was silence except for some cries of alarm on the far side of the parade ground as the shots came near some unfortunate soldiers standing there.

  Lawson stopped running when men began to pour from the buildings. Sergeants were shouting. Who was the goddam fool who’d been shooting? It must be Indians, somebody suggested. Indians had broken into the fort. Colonel Whitehouse appeared on the scene. Lawson blended with the crowd, and stayed there until the hubbub died down. Then he strolled across to Brevington’s quarters. He found the colonel very agitated and drinking whiskey to steady his nerves.

  As soon as he entered, Brevington demanded: ‘Was that you doing that shooting?’ Lawson admitted that it was and the colonel said: ‘You damn fool. I had not yet decided that McAllister had to be killed.’

  Lawson said: ‘I make my own decisions. I decided long ago that I was going to rub McAllister out.’

  Brevington nodded. ‘I have made my decision now. McAllister is not to be dissuaded from his ill-advised action. He will have to be killed. But we won’t have you going off half-cock again, Lawson. Next time, we’ll be organized. Done with the greatest precision and economy. One bullet, one dead man.’

  Lawson showed his wolf-teeth.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The journey on from the fort was one of the most curious experiences of McAllister’s career. It was as if, for a while at least, all the differences in the regiment, indeed between the colonel, Lawson and McAllister, had never existed. It seemed to be tacitly agreed that all that mattered for the moment was to get the soldiers safely home and that alone was going to take all the officers who
could be mustered. Even Newton, still pale from his sickbed, was determined to do his bit. As though nothing had happened he assumed the position of second-in-command under Colonel Brevington. The colonel himself was rather subdued, but apart from that he seemed near his normal ebullient self. True, he did not socialize with his officers, but he did not bully them either, which was in itself something to be thankful for.

  Sledges had been constructed for the carrying of supplies, and the mounts of the dead soldiers were employed to drag them. It was a slow and hard ride which they undertook and it covered the best part of a week, but it was carried out in a disciplined and soldierly manner. There was less complaining now than there had been on the outward march.

  ‘A fine body of men,’ Colonel Brevington declared, ‘I’m proud to command them.’ McAllister could have believed that he was living through a fantasy to see the man’s behavior and his ignoring the fact that he had been arrested by one of his own officers.

  Before leaving the fort, Steiner, Brigg, Newton and McAllister had held a council of war and Steiner, though still a sick man, had shown his determination to ride with the regiment to the capital. Indeed Major Newton had begged him to do so.

  ‘Without you,’ the major said, ‘we hardly have a case. The fact that you put that flag up over the Indians’ camp and it was you who was shot by the soldiers makes our case unanswerable.’

  So Steiner went along. To McAllister it seemed that there was enough going against Brevington to finish him for life. He was therefore all the more amazed by the calm with which the man seemed to face his future. Maybe that was to be explained by the presence of Dom Lawson at his side. In fact, Lawson seemed never away from his side. He rode there, quiet as a cat and as smug as one with a bowl of cream at its disposal. His official position was that of army scout. He had found the Indians, and he had led the soldiers to them, hadn’t he? Now and then, McAllister would catch the man watching him.

  There was a band and a large crowd to greet them when they slowly rode into town. It was not exactly a triumphal entry, but it was not an ashamed one either. Every man there was glad to be alive and their folks were glad to see them alive. It was all very curious and McAllister was fascinated by it all, finding it almost impossible to believe that he had been made a prisoner by the army and that he had witnessed the attack on the village.

  There was Colonel Brevington having his hand shaken by everybody who could get near him. McAllister watched him join his wife in a coach. She was a happy-faced woman with rosy cheeks and six children. Brevington beamed and beamed. Steiner remarked to McAllister: ‘I have to remind myself that that’s the man who threw Sammy Samson out of church and who was the cause of Sammy being killed.’ Newton was embraced by a lovely young wife who bore him away to their home on the outskirts of the city. Captain Brigg and McAllister found themselves rooms at the Williamson Hotel which, they found, offered them first-rate accommodation and excellent food. If there was trouble ahead, McAllister made up his mind to enjoy the fleshpots till trouble arrived.

  Newton and Steiner were not slow off the mark. The first thing they did was to hire a smart lawyer, a young fellow not long out of Chicago and eager to win fame and fortune for himself. Which was the way McAllister liked lawyers to be. He spent more than a day in Steiner’s room taking dispositions from them and asking a lot of questions. That done, he went away and studied his subject. When he came back and had dinner with them one evening, he said: "Gentlemen, I think we have a good case.’

  Steiner smiled at that and said: "By God, you better had or we’re all washed up.’

  McAllister was arrested at two in the morning. The city marshal came with two heavily-armed deputies and marched him to the city jail. There was nothing personal about it; they were merely three men doing their duty. They were polite and they did not rough him up at all. One of them, Henry Mackie, he had served with as a policeman in Wichita, Kansas, some years before. In reply to McAllister’s question he said that Newton and Steiner had been placed under house arrest. McAllister was a little surprised that Steiner came under military jurisdiction and the marshal said that was most likely because Steiner was on the reserved list of officers. What were they accused of? Newton for disobedience to an order in the face of the enemy. Steiner with consorting with the enemy. What about Brigg? He had been informed that charges were pending.

  McAllister went into his cell, knowing that he was there because Brevington was pretty confident of himself. He wondered what he had up his sleeve. He found himself in a neat, clean cell.

  He told Mackie who turned the key in the grill door: ‘You run a nice place here, Henry.’

  ‘Glad you like it,’ said Henry, ‘there ain’t too damn many who say that.’ They laughed a little.

  McAllister made himself comfortable on the cot provided and did his best to catch up on his sleep. He looked forward to breakfast and hoped it was as good as the service here indicated. Emergencies always made him hungry.

  But he never got to eat breakfast. At seven in the morning, Henry Mackie came and unlocked the cell.

  He said: ‘My God, you must have influence, Rem. Somebody got the justice of the peace out of bed and put up bail for you. A thousand dollars. How about that?’

  McAllister was puzzled. ‘I don’t know anybody who owns a thousand dollars,’ he said.

  He walked into the marshal’s office and to his amazement found James Hickok there, smiling widely.

  The marshal said: ‘This has to be a historic occasion, boys. Rem McAllister bailed out by Wild Bill Hickok.’

  Hickok and McAllister shook hands and McAllister said he had never been more pleased to see anybody. The marshal handed him his gun and he strapped it on. He shrugged himself into his heavy coat and he and Hickok walked out on to the street. They braced themselves against the blast of cold and headed for McAllister’s hotel.

  ‘Where the hell did you get the thousand, Jim?’ he asked.

  ‘Sat up all night playing cards,’ was the reply.

  ‘We won’t discuss whether it was a straight game.’

  Hickok looked prim. ‘No, you’re right, we won’t.’

  They talked as they walked. Apparently Hickok had trailed McAllister soon after he and Lige had reached McAllister’s place. He had a nasty feeling in his bones that Brevington could not be trusted with a prisoner.

  ‘You stretched friendship just as far as it’ll go, I reckon,’

  McAllister said and that was the only way he could adequately express his thanks.

  ‘I never heard of any limit,’ Hickok replied.

  When they were in the warmth of McAllister’s room, they peeled off their coats and Hickok produced a bottle of whiskey from a pocket. They agreed their stomachs were empty and it was the wrong time of day for strong liquor and then both put a healthy ration of the fiery liquid down them.

  Hickok said: ‘Rem, I’ve been talking with that Steiner. He’s a nice guy. He’s in a real fix himself, but he shows a hell of a concern about the fix you got yourself into. He’s told me the whole story. I have a notion you trusted him and you’d told him the whole story from your point of view.’

  ‘Yes. Steiner’s straight. Did he tell you about Lawson trying to kill me back at the fort?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Him and Brevington are tied in together tight.’

  ‘That’s the way my thinking’s been going. Lawson’s the long stop. If all else fails, Lawson kills you. You still insisting on the charge of murder against Brevington?’

  ‘You bet your sweet life. The man’s a murderer, so it’s only right. I’ve seen good men hanged for less than he did.’

  ‘So now I have you out on bail, Lawson will have to do something about it. I don’t know if the marshal’s office is straight here, but I can’t help suspecting that you would never walk out of that cell into a courtroom.’

  ‘Yet the marshal let me go without a protest.’

  ‘What else could he do?’ Hickok added: ‘I reckon you woul
d of been found hanging by the neck in that cell.’

  ‘So unless I keep my eyes open, I’m liable to be arrested for something else on the street and put back in the cell again.’

  ‘Most likely. If not, Lawson has to cut down on you. I suspect that when Brevington hears about you being out on bail, he’ll lose a little nerve and that’ll be the time to set you up. Which ain’t going to be as easy as all that with me watching your back.’

  ‘Jim, how can I begin to thank –?’

  ‘You can buy me a damn good breakfast. I ain’t eaten in a coon’s age.’

  McAllister laughed and headed for the door. ‘Just so long as we both eat with our backs to the wall.’

  ‘Sounds like sense to me,’ said Hickok. ‘I got to confess it’s a habit with me after all these years.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  It was twenty-four hours later. They had gathered in Steiner’s room at the hotel. Since McAllister’s leaving the jail, nothing had happened. And there is no greater a strain for waiting men than the happening of nothing. Even McAllister and Hickok felt it. Now Hickok had gone out on to the icy streets while the others quietly took a drink together and talked. It was evening and the lamps were lit.

  When Hickok came in he was frozen and said he would tell them nothing until he had a decent drink under his belt. They gave it to him, he peeled off coats and scarves and held the floor. It was patent to all of them that he was enjoying himself hugely. McAllister thought that this might be meat and drink to the famous gunfighter, but he was damned if he enjoyed one single minute of it. He suspected that the pleasure on Hickok’s face indicated that lead would soon be flying and McAllister, being a sensible man, was not over fond of flying lead.

  They all urged Hickok to get it off his chest.

  ‘Well, gents,’ he said, ‘it has been a good evening’s work, though I says it myself as shouldn’t. I’ll spill all the beans so that you may examine them. First, I have been courting a young hired girl in Colonel Brevington’s establishment, which, I may say, was no hardship on my part. I was ever partial to members of the fair sex. Happily, this young person has showed some profound affection for yours truly and has shown a propensity to do all that I ask of her – in the nicest possible way, of course. Now, it so happens that she has been used by our enemies, among others, to spy on our movements and take intelligence of our plans to Brevington and so to Lawson. If all is well, she will relay to her employer McAllister’s next movements so that he may put his plan of murder into action.’ Hickok beamed around on McAllister as if he had done him the best favor in the world.