“I don’t think any of us did,” Childress said. “Harry, did you know that Reilly’s back?”
Peters nodded and studied the tip of his cigar. “Blame me if you want to, Paul, but I stood back and let Reilly get four years.” Childress’ head came up at this and the marshal smiled. “I’m sure he shot that man in self-defense. Elmer Loving was lying.” Grimacing at his sour cigar stub, he went to the window and threw it into the street. Lighting a fresh one, he turned the air acrid with strong smoke.
“Reconstructing what happened that day, we all know that Reilly discovered the raid on his herd a few hours after it happened. He began to trail. That unexpected snowfall helped and at Winehaven’s he found the steers bunched in a holding pen. There was an argument and Reilly pulled his gun. Max Horgan was there as well as Elmer Loving. Horgan didn’t show for the trial, but Loving lied in his testimony. Personally, I believe that there was more to it than came out or Burk Seever would never have pressed such a strong case for a hanging. I tell you, gentlemen, Reilly saw something there at Winehaven’s that scared the pants off of somebody. I’m not at all sure that Reilly understands how important this is or even what it was, but they knew he saw it and wanted to get rid of him.”
“Seems funny to me you’d let Reilly go to the pen,” Murdock said.
“Getting Reilly off the hook wouldn’t make him remember what he saw. It’s not a big thing or it would have been outstanding.” Peters frowned. “I’d say it was a small piece of the puzzle, but once a man got his hands on it and thought about it, a lot would fall into place.”
Al Murdock became very attentive. “You got something in mind, Harry?”
“Yes. We need a man to get in there and slug it out with Winehaven’s bunch.”
“Reilly?”
“Yes,” Peters said after a pause. “He’s got a record now and it might be that he won’t make a go of it on his own place. He has as much to lose now as any of you have.”
“I don’t like it,” Murdock said flatly. “I’m not takin’ Reilly’s side but the man’s goin’ to be my brother-in-law one of these days and I draw a line on what’s fair and what ain’t. You leave him alone, Peters.”
Raising both hands palms out, Peters said, “Now don’t jump down my throat. I just made a suggestion. Look at it this way for once. When Burk married Sally Isham, she opened up a lot of trouble for Reilly because Reilly never liked to take a licking from anyone and Burk’s give him a couple already.” Peters jabbed his cigar at Murdock. “I’m in sympathy with you, Emily and all, but I didn’t mean that I’d throw Reilly to the wolves. Gentlemen, law enforcement is a coldly methodical profession, following just rules and mutual protection, innocent and guilty alike.”
“A rope and a Winchester in the right places,” Ackroyd said, “would do a lot of good.”
“Yes,” Peters said. “It would make us as lawless as the ones we shot or hung.” He shook his head. “This matter will be brought to a court of law and aired there. Nothing less will satisfy me.”
“You ought to quit marshalin’ and run for sheriff,” Childress said. “We need a man like you, Harry.”
“Very complimentary,” Peters said, “but I’m satisfied.”
“What about Reilly?” Murdock asked.
Peters removed his cigar from his mouth and pulled at his bottom lip. “We’ll play it straight. Let Burk Seever and his crowd make the first move against Reilly. Burk won’t give up. He wants Reilly dead.”
The meeting broke up and Harry Peters shook hands all around before they filed out. Murdock and Childress were the last to leave and Al paused to ask, “What kind of a man are you, Harry? I’ve known you since the war and I still haven’t figured you out.”
Peters placed the cigar in the corner of his mouth and smiled. “Right now, a sleepy man.” He stood in the doorway and watched them walk down the stairs.
Closing the door then, he laid his cigar on the dresser. He removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands and face. His gun harness hung under the left armpit in a spring holster. It popped when he removed the gun, a .38 Smith & Wesson Sheriff’s model with a shortened barrel. Laying this on a chair by his bed, he placed his hunting case watch beside it before snuffing out the lamp.
Springs squeaked as he settled himself for the night. Through the walls, the sound of the town came faintly.
* * * *
Because it was her job, Jane Alford circulated among the tables, but several times she looked toward the bar where Ernie Slaughter stood. She saw Reilly Meyers leave, and soon after that, Burk Seever. She paid particular attention to Burk’s face when he returned. Then Bob Ackroyd came in a moment later, only to go out again with Jim Buttelow and Al Murdock. The fight was going strong outside, but she paid no attention to it. She watched the batwings winnow after Ackroyd, and then she left the main floor. She went toward a door leading through the back room to the alley.
The night was cool and the muffled sounds coming from the saloon somehow seemed very far away. She leaned against the rough wall and breathed deeply as though her lungs were sick with the odors of spilled whiskey and cigar smoke.
From the gap between the saloon and the hardware store, a slight, rattle came to her. Then a man emerged, swinging his head left and right before he picked up the reflected light from her dress. She started to move away from the wall, but sagged back when Ernie Slaughter said, “Jane! Wait.”
He moved past some stacked beer barrels, a tall shape with a voice as cool as the night wind. Jane said, “Get out of here, Ernie, before you get hurt.”
“Don’t play tough with me, Jane. I know what’s beneath the paint.”
“Do you?” She laughed softly. “You’re a boy, Ernie. You don’t know anything.”
He stepped close to her. She raised a hand and placed it against his chest, but his fingers closed on her bare arms and pulled her and his lips held hers for a long moment. Finally she broke away from him. When she spoke, her voice was ragged and her breathing disturbed. “You kiss like a boy too.”
“You’re lying,” Ernie said. “Why do you keep lying? What happened to us?”
“There was never anything there,” she said. “You filled me with a lot of foolish notions, that’s all.” She put the smile back on her lips. “I wanted a little fun—some money. Don’t feel sad for me, Ernie. I’m not complaining.”
“You changed your mind too suddenly,” Ernie said. “Right after Reilly went up, you changed your mind.” He reached for her but she shifted and he dropped his hand. “What’s the connection, Jane? I want to know.”
She became angry then and pushed against him with stiffened arms. “Get away from me! You always want to know everything! Can’t a girl have anything to herself? You come around like a sick calf. You want your fun with me and you’ll have to pay for it like everybody else.”
“You don’t mean that,” Ernie said.
She laughed at him, her voice lifting against the silence in the alley. “Grow up, Ernie. You want a girl to raise fat kids. I never wanted the raising part, just the fun.”
“I see,” he said. He touched her arm again. She brought her hand up and slapped him resoundingly.
“Get away from me, Ernie. I mean it!”
“All right,” he said, and he went down the alley, making his way slowly past the litter of boxes and junk. She stood there watching him and the pale night light fell on her face, glistening in the streaks of moisture that ran down her cheeks.
The back door of the saloon opened and Burk Seever stepped out, his bulk magnified in the darkness. Jane Alford wiped her face.
“You sure can handle ’em, honey,” Burk said.
Her shoulders stiffened, but her voice was smooth. “Did you see them leave? Ackroyd and the others?”
“Yeah. They’ll talk and beat their brains out, but they won’t get anywhere.” He put his hand on
her bare shoulder. She stood still, waiting for his hand to move away, but it slid past her breast and clasped her waist. “Better get inside,” he told her.
“You go first,” Jane said, still presenting her back to him. “What about Reilly, Burk? What if he remembers? Surely he will.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Burk murmured, and touched his lips to her neck. “You just keep your mouth shut around Ernie Slaughter. You want that kid, don’t you?”
“Do you have to keep asking me?”
“Just don’t want you to forget,” Seever said, and bit her ear.
She shrugged her shoulder, pushing his face away. “Not now,” she said flatly. “You’ve got a wife of your own.”
“I like variety,” Burk said. He slapped her rounded hip, then moved away. A moment later the rear door closed and she was alone in the alley. She pressed her hands flat against her open mouth while tears broke past the dam of her eyelids.
Her lips moved and her voice was barely a whisper. “Ernie—help me, Ernie.”
* * * *
The hour was late when Reilly Meyers arrived at his place southeast of Buckeye. He put his horse in the barn, and trudged across the littered yard, kicking empty tin cans and cursing his unwelcome tenants for leaving such a mess behind.
He entered the darkened house. The door came off the hinges when he tried to close it, and this added to his aggravation. Disgusted with the filthy floors, he went outside again and spread his blankets on the porch. The night wind carried a thin chill and he inched closer to the wall to break the flow of air around him.
A sleeping man cannot always say what brings him awake. There may be no sound at all, but the instinct for survival is strong, preceding sound, Almost a metaphysical force, it brings a man upright in his blankets, instantly alert.
The dawn was not far away and a faint light had begun rinsing away the blackness when Reilly came awake. He stopped all movement when he found the man sitting across from him, a .56 caliber Spencer balanced across his knees.
Sheriff Henderson was near fifty, wrinkle-faced, with a mustache sagging past the corners of his mouth. A star peeked from between the folds of his coat.
Reilly threw his blankets aside, his hand falling near the butt of his Remington.
“Be careful there,” Henderson said. “I’d hate to shoot you just because you got careless.”
Kicking free of his blankets, Reilly sat up and tugged on his boots. Henderson had leaned his rifle against the porch steps, safely out of reach. He took the sawed-off Remington from Reilly and stuck it into his waistband.
When the sheriff studied Reilly, he had a flat, lusterless expression in his eyes. “I like the dawn,” he said. “Never a better time to take a man. He’s lazy then and his mind’s full of sleep.”
“What the hell do you want with me?” Reilly asked.
“Comes under the heading of unfinished business,” Henderson said. “You’re a man with a record, Reilly, and as sheriff of this county I got to ask you a few questions.”
“Go ahead and ask ’em.”
“We’ll go in town to my office,” Henderson suggested. “These things take time. You know how the law is.” He stood up, flourishing his rifle. “Let’s not waste any of it now, shall we?”
With the sheriff’s rifle covering him, Reilly saddled the buckskin and made up his blanket roll. Once Reilly’s guns were secured to the saddlehorn, the sheriff mounted and told Reilly to move out ahead of him.
The sheriff kept his horse at a walk five paces behind Reilly. After a short silence, he said, “If you had been smart, you would never have come back here. There’s some people around here who think you want to make trouble.”
“Why don’t you get off my back?” Reilly asked.
“Me?” Henderson laughed. “I’m a public servant, Reilly. When a man wants another brought in, then I have to do it. Nothin’ personal, you understand.”
“Like hell,” Reilly said.
Henderson laughed louder this time and they finished the trip in silence. Riding down the main street, Henderson stayed behind Reilly, his rifle nonchalantly held across the saddle. They went down a short side street and Reilly dismounted. The sheriff unlocked the door and stepped aside for Reilly to enter ahead of him.
The outer office was a dingy room with a barred window, an oak desk and several straight backed chairs. Henderson racked Reilly’s rifle and put the revolver in the desk drawer, then herded him toward a cell facing an open lot.
Reilly paused as Henderson swung the cell door open. He said, “You don’t have a damn thing on me and you know it, Jack. What’s this all about?”
“Spittin’ on the sidewalk,” Henderson said. “What difference does it make? We’ll make something stick.”
“You got it all figured out, haven’t you?”
“Somebody has,” Henderson admitted, and locked the door.
Through the barred window, Reilly could observe a large section of the main drag beyond the vacant lot. The morning sun climbed higher, and by noon the air was thick with heat.
There were two bunks in the cell, the bottom one occupied by a young man who snored on, his head thrown back, half in, half out of the bed. After listening to this for an hour, Reilly raised a foot and gave the young man a shove.
The snoring sputtered to a halt and he sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face. There was a long split in the young man’s scalp and blood had dried and matted the blond hair.
“What a night,” he said. He stood up then, staggered to the barred door and rattled it until Henderson came back. “How about some water in here?”
The sheriff nodded and went away, returning a few minutes later with a gallon bucket. He unlocked the door, set it inside, then snapped the key again before returning down the hall to the outer office.
The young man poured half the water over his head and stood dripping. Then he said, “I’m Milo Bucks, friend. Don’t I know you from somewhere?” He didn’t wait for an answer; just poured more water over his head. He set the bucket aside and added, “Sure, the hardware store. You wasn’t in here when I got tossed in, was you?”
“No,” Reilly said. He examined the split scalp. “Door knob?”
“Gun barrel.” Bucks grinned. “There was a beautiful fight, but the sheriff broke it up.” He sat down on the bunk and reached for the bucket, drinking until it was empty. “That was selfish of me. You thirsty?”
“It can wait,” Reilly said. “You new around here?”
“Just passin’ through,” Milo Bucks said. “It’s too bad I didn’t. After I saw the elephant, it wasn’t as pretty as I thought it was goin’ to be.” He sighed. “Like a woman’s kiss, a mystery until you’ve had it, then quickly forgotten.” His young face turned serious. “You didn’t say what your name was,” he said.
Reilly told him, then looked out the window. This being Saturday, traffic was brisk. All the outlying families had come into town for supplies and talk.
Henderson ambled back with two plates of stew, shoving them beneath the door. The two men ate in silence and pushed the plates back. Reilly rolled a smoke and passed the sack of tobacco to Milo Bucks.
The front door opened and Reilly looked around in time to see Tess Isham come in. She spoke briefly to Henderson. The sheriff came down the hall with Tess following him.
“Talk through the bars,” Henderson said. “Five minutes.”
After he went back to the front office, Tess said, “I’m sorry, Reilly, but I was afraid something like this would happen.”
“I haven’t done anything,” he said. “They can’t hold me. But get out of here, Tess. This is no place for you.”
She gripped the bars until her knuckles turned white. “Reilly, this isn’t anything to joke about. Don’t you understand that Burk, through the sheriff, can reach out and take what he wants?”
“
So that’s what happened?”
“I’m not sure,” she said in a heavy whisper. “Peters was having lunch with Childress and Murdock as I came over. They know Henderson has you, but Childress wants to stay out of it.”
“I figured it would be that way,” Reilly said.
“Harry Peters could get you out of here,” Tess said, “but he refused to interfere. Reilly, isn’t there anything you can do?”
“Not for a while.” Reilly folded his hands over hers as they gripped the bars. “Thanks for coming, Tess.”
She gave him a brief smile. “Somebody had to, Reilly.”
He released her hands. Thrusting his arms through the bars, he took her face gently between his palms. She read his intent and said, “No, Reilly.”
But he pulled her face close and kissed her, the cold bars pressed against their cheeks. “Damn you, Reilly,” she said, and hurried down the corridor. Henderson let her out and went back to his desk, hidden from Reilly’s view by the angle of the wall.
“Wow,” Milo said. “For a girl like that I could stand this flea trap for six months.” He nudged Reilly. “Here comes the law again.”
Pausing at the cell door, Henderson produced a ring of keys and swung the door open. “All right, sonny. Get the hell out of here and next time don’t stick your nose in where it don’t belong.”
Picking up his hat, Milo moved past Reilly. “Luck,” he said, and went out.
After Bucks left the building, Henderson said, “Let’s go, Reilly.” He followed Reilly into the outer office. Waving him into a chair, Henderson took a position behind his desk and waited. A few minutes later, Burk Seever came in. He wore a new suit, a stiffly starched collar, and a flowing ascot tie tucked into a double-breasted vest.
“I see you let that meddling kid out,” he said to the sheriff. Then he fixed his attention on Reilly. “I’m willing to be reasonable with you but I want you to get out of the country.”
A grin broke across Reilly’s face. “Go to hell, Burk. You may run the sheriff’s office now but you sure as hell don’t run me.”
The Sixth Western Novel Page 61