by E. R. Slade
She came, wraith-like. Very little light made it in this far from the well-lit windows across the street. He could tell only that she was wrapped in a blanket.
“You alone?” he asked, holstering the gun.
“Yes. You said I could come.”
“I did.” He wondered what she wanted to tell him. “Let’s go in and light a lamp.”
When the lamp was going he saw that she’d been in his bed and that the blanket was his. Her clothes were thrown over the back of a chair. A vague excitement began to distract him.
“I think you’d better get dressed,” he said. “I’ll wait outside.”
“I was tired and I didn’t know how long you would be. I knocked but nobody answered. The back door wasn’t locked—I thought you wouldn’t care.”
He had intended to lock it before going to supper; but he’d been preoccupied.
“It’s all right,” he said, and went out of his quarters closing the door.
By the time she reopened it and stood silhouetted against the lantern light Buck had gotten hold of himself and was starting to wonder how long it might be before Snake Ed went to Kate’s.
“What do you want to tell me?” he asked, as they sat down, she on the edge of the bed, still not made, and he in the chair. Surprisingly, she was wearing a dress that might as easily have belonged to any settler’s wife.
“I need your help,” she said cautiously. “You want to know some things about Snake Ed. Let’s make a deal.”
“What sort of help do you need?”
“I want to get onto the train at Casper and leave.”
“Do you.” There was a complication he hadn’t looked for. “You need a horse?”
“I can’t ride. Anyway, Snake Ed would catch up. And he’d kill me.” She said it flatly.
“Why would he do that?”
“Because.”
“Because of what you know?”
“Because he said so. He’s killed other girls. There was Jenny ...”
“I heard about that.”
“Will you help me?”
“Does he think what you know is dangerous to him? Is that why you want to leave?”
He could almost see the wheels turn in her mind.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s why.”
“You don’t mind him otherwise?’
“Oh, it’s awful,” she said, her voice emphatic with revulsion. “He ... I don’t want to even think about it, let alone talk about it.”
“I see.”
When he paused, weighing the wisdom of getting involved in her escape, she flushed with anger and said, accusingly, “You don’t believe me! Well, let me show you.” And before he could stop her she lifted her skirts and petticoats and showed an ugly bruise about six inches long on her thigh, then showed him another on the other thigh.
When she started undoing her bodice, Buck finally came to himself and stopped her.
“Of course I believe you,” he said. “I was just trying to figure out what to do. Or rather, how to do it.”
She seemed partially mollified, and her expression became long and hard-done-by.
“I need to leave as soon as possible,” she said. “They may already be lookin’ for me. I slid out the back window.”
Just what he needed—another mess to get mixed up in. On the other hand, he wasn’t likely to get any better chance to find out what Snake had done with the money.
“At about four tomorrow morning I’ll be driving cattle to Casper. Go back one more night, tell them some lie or other if you have to, and be here about three thirty.”
He planned to hide her in a wagon, but she didn’t need to know about that until the last minute.
“I can’t go back,” she said. “Not now.”
“If Kate tells Snake Ed I came to see you this’ll be the first place he’ll look.”
“She won’t tell. She’ll just say I ran away, she doesn’t know where. I’m not going back. I can’t. She’d punish me by tellin’ Snake you were with me. I don’t have any other place to go. I won’t cause you any trouble.”
“Why should she punish you?”
“So I’d be scared to try leaving’ again. I already tried once and that’s what happened. Snake beat me until I couldn’t stand up for three days.”
Buck thought she was making it up but didn’t say so.
“So, can I stay here? It’s only one night. If Snake comes I’ll hide.”
“There ain’t many hiding places.”
“I thought you were going to help me,” she said resentfully.
“I will. All right. You stay. But if anybody catches you here I’m not going to take any responsibility for you. It’s up to you to keep quiet and out of sight. Is that plain?”
“I guess,” she said, almost grudgingly.
“Now, tell me about Snake Ed.”
“I’ll tell you when we get to Casper.”
Just the same as he’d do in her place.
“Well, if you ain’t going to talk, I got things to do.”
“Where’re you going?”
“To see where Snake Ed is. But first ...”
He emptied the cupboard under the display case, carried the boxes of extra hammers and shingling hatchets into the rear storeroom. She was looking dubiously at the cupboard when he returned.
“I hate cramped-up little places like that,” she said.
“Well, then let Snake Ed carry you off, I don’t give a damn.”
“You said you would protect me.” She was a regular whiner.
“That’s what I’m goddamn well trying to do. Now see if you can get in here.”
“I guess I could,” she said, but didn’t attempt to.
“Suit yourself.” He strode for the door.
“Mr. Maxwell?” She was frightened.
“What?”
“Do you have to go?”
“Yes.”
“I’m scared.”
“Just keep watch at the window, and if he shows up, hide.”
~*~
Snake Ed was in the Bucket of Blood. From across the street Buck watched him down two shots, then grab the bottle and swagger out.
Buck stepped back into the darkness of an alley.
“Okay, sodbushters,” Snake yelled. He tipped the bottle up to his lips and raised onto his toes. That didn’t work: he swayed and had to use the saloon doorpost to get his balance back.
Then he pulled his gun.
“Come’n git it!” he hollered, and let off a couple of rounds into the air.
From down the street in the direction of the joy houses there came an answering yell and three shots followed by tinkling glass. A woman hollered, “Cut it out!”
Snake cocked an ear to this, grinned. He put away his gun, took another swig with help from the doorpost, and then staggered off into the mud. He wandered across the street in a generally southwesterly direction and eventually got onto the sidewalk, pausing again for a swig. When he reached Kate’s he went in without knocking, stumbling over the doorsill.
Buck came out of his alley, went along to another on the near side of Kate’s.
For a while he didn’t hear or see anything. Light rain wet his hair, ran down his neck.
Then there was a scream and Kate’s piercing voice. “Leave off, Snake, she’s run away. We just found it out. She ...” The sentence disintegrated into an inarticulate shriek.
There was a thud, other girls screaming, men’s voices.
The front door banged open. Buck peered cautiously around the corner in time to see Kate flying out. She staggered up, her finery dripping mud.
“You filthy bastard,” she bellowed. She struggled onto the sidewalk pulling a little derringer from between her enormous breasts.
But two men hurtled out the open doorway, slammed into her. The derringer went off. All three landed in the mud.
There was more screaming from the girls inside, the sound of breaking glass, cursing.
Then out came Snake Ed, whiskey b
ottle still in one hand, Daisy by the hair in the other. He gave a yank, throwing her into the mud, then stumbled to fall on top of her. Holding her down he stuck the bottle in her mouth, tipped up. She gurgled and sputtered, turned her head away spitting the stuff out.
He sat up, swung the bottle against her temple. Whiskey and glass flew.
“Tish’ou t’lie t’me,” he mumbled, and staggered to his feet hauling out his gun.
Everybody lay still. Snake Ed leered at one of them, then another, .45 tipped up cocked in his hand.
Then abruptly he shot out three lanterns in windows across the street with four shots that sounded almost like one.
Silence.
“I’ll fin’ ’at li’le bish,” he said, ramming the .45 back into its holster. Then he went stumbling through the muck, gained the near sidewalk, started along north.
Kate and Daisy and the two men picked themselves up, cursing. Apparently nobody had been hit by the shot from the derringer. They went back inside and shut the door.
With some help from doorways and hitch racks, Snake navigated north along the walk. Buck followed.
Opposite the Bucket of Blood Snake paused, wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Buck waited in the shadows as Snake crossed the street and got himself another bottle. Braced against the doorpost he drew the cork and threw it away, took a long pull. Then he hauled out his pistol, reloaded it, dropping several shells.
When he struggled back across the mud he was angling for Wyoming Hardware.
Buck strode along briskly.
Snake pounded on the door, yelling, “Open up, storekeeper! Or I’m comin’ in!”
“Nobody in there,” Buck said steadily, drawing near. “What do you want, Snake?”
Snake turned too quickly from the door and reeled in consequence.
“You sonofabitch,” he said. “You got m’whore in ’ere.”
“What whore?” Buck said. “I don’t have nothing to do with any whore of yours.”
“Don’t you try t’play no mo’ gamesh with me, shtorekeeper,” Snake said. “You open thish door and bring m’ore out ’ere.”
Buck stepped purposefully to the door, unlocked it, threw it open.
“I don’t know what this is all about,” he told Snake. “But I’m going to light a lantern and show you there’s nobody here. Then you’re going to have your drunk somewhere else and quit bothering me.”
Snake staggered inside uncertainly. Buck, following, reached the lantern down from the hook by the door, lit it. The light showed an empty store.
Snake peered around, took another pull on his whiskey.
“Yoush better not be holdin’ out on me,” he said, leering close to Buck. “I’ll kill you.”
“Snake, you’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off.”
“Shut up. I’m lookin’ for m’ore.” He stumbled forward, reeled off the counter, collided with the office door. Buck held up the light so Snake could see there was nobody in there. Snake kicked open the door of Buck’s quarters, and the light showed it empty. Breathing heavily, Snake turned on Buck.
“I know you got ’er,” he said. “Yoush been beddin’ m’ore just to shpite me, ain’t you, shtorekeeper? Ain’t that sho?”
“You just seen for yourself she ain’t here. You want to look in the shed? It’s the only place left.”
“You got her hid, shtorekeeper. You ain’t foolin’ me. You take me t’er or I’m goin’ t’ geld you.”
“Get out of here, Snake. Now.”
Snake leaned forward trying to focus on him, staggered, and Buck stepped out of the way, relieved Snake of his gun.
“Ain’t that something?” Buck said, showing Snake the gun, but not pointing it.
Snake stared at the pistol, his mouth hanging open.
“I could finish you off right now,” Buck said. “But I might not bother if you want to tell me who you work for.”
Snake took a drink, dazed.
“The name,” Buck said, and suddenly drove the barrel of the pistol into Snake’s middle.
“Mmffp.” Snake doubled over trying to get his breath back. His eyes were glassy.
“Who gives the orders?”
“Yoush a bashtard, shtorekeeper.”
“Calpet?”
“Nobody gifsh me orders, shtorekeeper.”
“Not Calpet?”
“Nobody.”
Snake’s arm swung and Buck stepped out of the way.
“Get,” Buck said, and gave Snake a shove toward the door, then another to push him out. Snake stumbled off the edge of the sidewalk, fell full length in the mud, moaning something incoherent. Buck unloaded the pistol and tossed it into the muck a few feet beyond Snake’s reach. Then he shut the door and locked it.
Laurie appeared from behind the display case. “Is he gone?” she asked.
“Don’t talk loud. He’s right outside.”
She sidled over to the window and took a quick look at him—he lay where he’d fallen.
“He won’t do no more tonight,” she said. “He’s dead drunk.”
Buck found an extra blanket. “You can have the bed,” he said. “I’ll sleep near the door in case he comes around and wants to try anything.”
“You can sleep with me if you want,” she said.
“Thanks anyway.”
“I wish you would,” she said. “I’d feel so much safer.”
“You’ll be all right.”
As he tried to get comfortable on the floor he wondered what Mary Ellen would think if she ever found out Laurie had spent the night here. Would she believe him if he told her the truth?
He wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to try it on her.
Not that he was likely to get the chance.
Chapter Seventeen
By four thirty Wednesday morning five wagons, seven men and forty-one head of cattle were south of town headed for Casper. Laurie was hidden under a pile of tarps in one of the wagons, a fact known only to Buck.
As he and Payson hazed the cattle along, Buck kept an eye on their back trail. Sometime in the night a couple of men had removed Snake Ed—judging by the tracks Buck had seen this morning. The question which preyed on his mind was how long it might be before Snake Ed could function.
But they got past the settlers’ homesteads and onto open range without incident and Buck finally started to worry more about what might be ahead than what was behind.
“Ain’t that an awful sight,” Payson said, meaning all the white bones left over from the big die-up of the previous year.
“It is,” Buck said. “Especially when some of us should have seen it coming.”
“Nobody could have predicted a winter like that.”
“Injuns did. They been here long enough to know the signs. I heard it from old One Foot himself, but warn’t smart enough to believe him.”
“We heard some o’ that, too, but we heard other things before that turned out wrong. Anyway, weren’t much that could have been done.”
“Could have sold down our herds. We lost hundreds because they warn’t in good condition going into the fall. But everybody made the same mistake, holding out for a better price. Now there’s a lot of desperate men looking to find somewhere to lay the blame.”
“You know, I been thinking on this since you asked me if I thought the Swan outfit would have hired Snake Ed. They’s a lot of foreigners thought they was going to get rich off cattle, and I’ll bet you if somebody told them the way to save their investment was to run off the little small-time stockmen and farmers the only question they’d ask would be, how much would it cost? I think Skeetland got held up to pay hired guns.”
“Could be, though Snake claims he don’t work for nobody but himself.”
“Who told you that?”
“Snake did.” Buck told him what had happened—except about Laurie.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” Payson looked offended.
“Hard to follow a dead man to where he’s hid his money.”
“Oh.�
��
By midmorning the sun was hot. When they crossed a creek they let the cows get a drink before hazing them on up the other bank. They were approaching another creek and talking about stopping for lunch when one of the men said, “Rider catchin’ us up.”
Buck turned to look, studied the man on horseback a few moments, then said, “Snake Ed. Get your guns ready. Don’t point them unless he takes the thong off.”
Snake was approaching at a gallop, his big black loping along tirelessly. They all watched as he slowed to a walk next to Buck. His color wasn’t good and his expression was about right for a man with a pounding headache.
“Pull rein,” Snake said. “Now.”
“What’s in your craw, Snake?” Buck was calm. “Still trying to find your whore?”
“I said haul up, now.” Snake’s hand went toward his gun.
Hammers clicked back. Every farmer held a shotgun. The wagons kept rolling.
“You ought to be able to see she ain’t here,” Buck said, reasonably. “Or are you just lookin’ to pick a fight?”
Snake squinted out over the wagons as though the bright sun hurt his eyes. He wheeled his horse away from Buck and rode to get a look into each of them. He said nothing about the pile of canvas covers. Buck had stacked them carefully so they would look like a solid pile neatly folded.
“I heard you was at Kate’s lookin’ for my whore,” Snake said, riding along beside Buck again. “You fool around with her and I’ll put a bullet between your legs.”
“You come bothering around me again, I’ll put one between your eyes.”
They glared at each other. Then Snake spun his mount and cantered for town.
“What do you think he’ll do?” Payson asked.
“Hard to say. But we got cows to drive. We can’t be worrying over him.”
~*~
Buck worried about him plenty, nevertheless—all afternoon as they drove to the North Platte. By the time they got to the riverbank shortly after dark Buck was sure he’d made a mistake leaving High Plains. The store was closed and locked and several men were supposed to be keeping an eye on it. He’d figured it would be less provocative that way. Thought it would save putting men at risk unnecessarily. But all he’d done was make it easy to torch.
Not that there was much he could do about it now.
Buck had the wagons circled, then picked a man to take first watch over the cows, sent some others to round up firewood. Once the men were busy having supper, gathered around the campfire, Buck went and told Laurie she could get out of the wagon. He gave her his plate of beans and biscuits, his cup of coffee, and she ate and drank greedily while he restacked the canvas covers.