Dani moved to the door and left the room, noting that Megan seemed to be aware of her leaving, but others were jumping up and down to Clyde’s playing. The crowd had not thinned out, and one tall man tried to stop her, saying, “Hey, Doll, let’s you and me have a drink!” But she eluded him and stepped out into the darkness.
The parking lot had no lights at all. Only a faint blue glow from the neon sign affixed to the front of the building illuminated the area. It was a starless night, and as she walked across the lot, with her heels clicking on the concrete, a shiver ran up Dani’s back, and her nerves began to tingle. The sound of the raucous music floated on the still night air, the thumping of the bass hitting like a muted hammer.
The Ranger sat isolated from all the other cars, and as she reached the door, she gave a look over her shoulder, as a sudden noise jarred against her nerves. But it was only a car door slamming on the other side of the lot. It was invisible in the darkness.
Opening her purse, she took out the envelope with the money, opened the door of the pickup, then placed it under the seat. She slammed the door firmly, then marched quickly back to the Watering Hole. But instead of going through the main room, she turned left, down a narrow hall that she had spotted coming in. Two rest rooms and a door marked MANAGER faced each other, and at the end of the short hall stood a door marked EXIT.
Slipping the night lock, she opened the door quietly, stepped outside, then closed it. It made almost no sound. She bent and removed her boots. When she had straightened up, she reached into her purse and pulled the .38 free. It was cold to her touch, and the very act of holding the knurled stock in her hand brought a wave of revulsion into her throat.
But Dani took a deep breath and moved across the lot, the concrete hard under her feet and the .38 grasped in her hand. Somewhere far off in the distance, a train whistle moaned, and as its echoes faded, she silently melted into the darkness.
12
Good-bye to a Friend
* * *
As Dani approached the pickup, the .38 in her right hand seemed to grow heavier. It was the first time since she had shot the gunman at Dom Lanza’s that she had been in a situation that demanded that she use it. Now, as the bass guitar throbbed strongly, it almost seemed to become a second heartbeat for her—heavy and ominous, like a distant drum foretelling danger.
She stepped into a pothole in the cement, jarring her teeth and missing her stride. Her grasp on the Special tightened out of reflex, and for one terrible moment she thought the gun would fire. But she only stood there in the hot, silent darkness, breathing in short, shallow gasps. Her hands became so sweaty that she wiped her left on her shirt, then transferred the gun and wiped the other. The spicy food she had eaten rose in her throat.
The train whistle moaned again, far off but no less mournful for that, and she made herself move forward. Her knees were shaky, but she forced herself to ignore the weakness that threatened to overcome her and crept closer to the pickup.
Finally the outlines of the Ford were clear, and she stopped dead still. There was no sign of motion, but she knew that picking up the money would not be long delayed. Her instinct told her that the Creep worked on a tight schedule, and at any moment someone might arrive at the Watering Hole and park beside the Ranger.
Then a sound touched her—approaching the truck from the far side—and it was like a live wire hitting against her nerves. Wearing boots, she thought, moving closer and straining her eyes in the darkness. The footsteps grew louder, then stopped as if the person were listening. Dani stood stock still. Apparently satisfied, the walker moved again, and Dani saw a form appear. A man came closer, moving to stand beside the pickup. The sound of the door opening reached Dani.
One moment’s pause, then the door closed, and at that moment Dani ordered sharply, “Hold it right there!”
A sudden grunt of surprise sounded, and as she took a step forward, she saw that he was turning to run. She drew the hammer back on the .38, and the sharp, clear, clicking sound must have shaken his nerves for the man cried out quickly, “No! I ain’t moving—don’t shoot!”
Holding the Special in both hands now, Dani barked, “Both hands on the cab—quick!”
The man instantly turned, and the slap of his palms on the top of the cab assured Dani. She moved forward with more assurance than she felt, but let no hesitation appear in her voice. “Spread those legs! If you move, you’ve had it!”
She held the gun in her right hand and frisked him with her left, standing far back, the way Savage had taught her. The man was not armed. Dani stepped back, then directed, “Lock your hands behind your neck, then turn around.”
He obeyed, and she pulled the penlight from her shirt pocket. Turning it on, she threw the slender pencil like beam of light into his face—then cried out in surprise, “Tom Leathers!”
Leathers flinched both from the light that blinded him and from the sound of her voice. She kept the light in his eyes, and he stood with his hands locked behind his neck, his eyes tight shut, and his mouth pulled into a grim line.
“That’s you, ain’t it, Dani?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
She said no more, for the identity of the man had caught her off guard. At one time or another both she and Luke had gone over a list of possible suspects. As she stood there, holding the gun on the cowboy, she remembered clearly that both of them had eliminated Tom for all practical purposes. Dani recalled that she herself had said finally, He’s just a broken-down old cowboy, Luke. I gave up trying to see guilt or innocence in faces some time back—but Tom Leathers has the most honest face I ever saw.
Now Leathers stood there, batting his eyes against the thin beam of light, and his face was haggard. He was a pretty tough fellow, Dani knew, and had led a hard life, but she could see that his lips were contorted in an effort to keep them from trembling.
“I never thought you’d be the man doing all this, Tom,” Dani told him, disappointment in her voice. “But I’ve got to turn you in.”
“Dani—” Leathers spoke in a cracked voice, not at all like his usual easy manner. “I know what this looks like—”
“It’s not a matter of ‘looks,’ Tom,” Dani broke in. “You’re the only one who could get the money. Nobody else knows about it but you and me.”
“Dani, it ain’t me!”
She heard the urgency in his voice, but shook her head. “Tom, you’ve got to be the one.”
Leathers requested, “Dani, can you lower that light a little? I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
She shifted the light downward, warning, “I’ll shoot if you make a wrong move, Tom.” Yet she was aware that this was boast. Her hand jerked spasmodically, and she removed her finger from the trigger, letting it rest on the outside of the guard. I couldn’t shoot him! she realized suddenly, but he couldn’t be allowed to find that out. “Just keep your hands where they are.”
“Sure, Dani,” Leathers said. He took a deep breath. “You’ve heard this guy on the phone, Dani. You know he don’t sound nothing like me.”
“You disguise your voice.”
“I ain’t no actor!” he pointed out wearily. “I can’t talk no other way than how I do.”
“You’re the one who came for the money, Tom.”
“Sure—and it ain’t the first time.” He leaned back against the truck, his seamed face looking old and tired. “Go on, call the cops,” he suggested. “It don’t matter much no more.”
Dani stood there, irresolute in the darkness. She studied his face, then replied, “I’d like to hear your story, Tom.”
He looked at her, his faded eyes a record of broken hopes and empty dreams. Finally he shrugged. “About a month ago I got a call from this guy—the one Clint calls the Creep. ’Course I’d heard what was goin’ on—we all had. How he was making some of the fellows pay up or get their horses ruined.” He paused, thinking how to put it. “I laughed at him, Dani. ‘I ain’t got a dime, and I ain’t got a horse. What can you do to me?’ That’s
what I told him. And it was the truth.”
“What did he say?” Dani prompted as he seemed to be finished.
“He said, ‘You’ve got a pair of legs. What would you do if both of them got broken? You’d be away from rodeo for a long time. Who’d pay your hospital bills? When you did heal up, in six months, who’d give you any kind of job?’” Leathers uttered a short, humorless laugh, then said, “He knew me pretty well, Dani.”
“How’s that?”
“Why, he knew that the one thing that matters in my life is to be where the rodeo is. It’s all I’ve ever had. I ain’t got much now, but if I had to be out of rodeo, I’d blow my brains out.”
Suddenly Dani felt that he was telling the exact truth. “Let me guess the rest. He told you that you wouldn’t have to pay him any money, but you’d have to pick up money from all the others.”
Leathers stared at her. “You’re a quick one, Dani! That’s what he said.” He dropped his head suddenly, a forlorn, lost figure.
Dani thought of A. E. Housman’s poem, “To an Athlete Dying Young.” It spoke of a fine young athlete who died before he had time to grow old and lose out to other men. And she understood clearly for the first time, the poignancy in the lines:
Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut. . . .
Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honors out.
Tom Leathers, she decided, had lost out, chasing fame and money, only to discover at the last that these things were phantoms.
“All right, Tom,” she spoke quietly and lowered her flashlight. “I believe you. But I want to hear all about it.”
He stared at her and slowly unclasped his fingers. “I ain’t proud of myself, Dani,” he admitted in a thin voice. “But one thing—he offered me money, but I never took it!”
“Sure, Tom.” Dani let the hammer down on the .38 and put it back in her purse. “I want to get back to the party. I’ll get away as soon as I can, but I’ll be at the little diner down from the Dome—the Blue Goose. I’ll meet you there.”
He only nodded, and Dani turned and walked back across the pavement to the Watering Hole. She found her boots, thankful that nobody had stumbled across them, and put them on. The exit door was locked, so she entered through the front door and made her way back to the party. The so-called talent show was over, and she saw Sixkiller watching her. She nodded slightly at him, then went back to her seat.
“What was that all about?” Megan asked curiously. “I saw you leave.” When Dani hesitated, she backtracked quickly, “Never mind, Dani. My reporter’s nosy ways get the best of me.”
Dani was glad Megan didn’t press it, and she made herself wait thirty minutes, time enough for the party to go into another phase—extreme drunkenness, more or less. Clyde stared at her owlishly, saying, “Better have a drink, Dani.”
“No, I’m tired, Clyde.” She smiled and complimented him, “You’re a fine musician. I’ll look forward to more of your songs.”
He flushed with pleasure, his round face beaming. “Oh, it’s not like riding a bull, Dani.”
“Don’t put yourself down, Clyde,” Dani suggested. Getting to her feet, she added, “God gave us all something. You’ve got so much; don’t grieve over what you don’t have.”
He stared at her, soberness washing over his face. “Good advice, Dani. I wish I could take it.”
She said, “Good night, Clyde. Tell Fran I had a good time. See you tomorrow, Megan.”
As she had guessed, Sixkiller made his way out of the room, seemingly by accident. “Told Ruby I had to get some air,” he explained when they stepped outside. “What’s up?”
Dani briefly sketched her encounter with Leathers. “I think Tom’s a victim, but maybe I’d better talk to him alone. We don’t want to be seen together too much.”
“All right, but watch yourself.” He suddenly reached out and ran his hand down her cheek. “I’m getting used to having you around.”
She stood there, the feel of his hand solid on her cheek, then nodded. “I’ll be careful. You just watch yourself with Ruby.”
She found Leathers at the Blue Goose. It was an out-of-the-way place where they weren’t likely to be seen. As soon as they got coffee, Dani demanded, “Let me have all of it, Tom.”
As he drank coffee out of a big white mug, he told her the details. He had never seen the Creep, and the method of getting the money changed all the time. “He’s pretty smart,” Leathers alleged. “Never the same twice—picking up the case or getting it to him. Sometimes I’ll make three or four pickups and hang on to all the money. Then I’ll get a call, and he’ll tell me how to get the money to him.”
“How do you do that?”
“Different almost every time.” Leathers shrugged. “Sometimes I leave it someplace, like on a park bench in a lunch box. But I ain’t never mailed it or seen him. Always a different place and time.”
“Any idea about who it is, Tom?” Dani inquired wearily. The encounter and the tension had drained her, and she wanted to get back to her room.
“Not an idea in the world, Dani—except it has to be somebody with the rodeo. I’ve picked up money in San Antonio, Cheyenne, and several other places. That narrows it down some, I guess.” He suddenly peered at her, his faded blue eyes sharpening. “How come you’re interested in all this, Dani?”
“I hate to get taken, Tom,” she commented, but saw that he didn’t buy that.
“And you just happen to carry a pistol?” he asked shrewdly. “Never mind. I appreciate your believin’ me, Dani. But be careful.”
“Tom, don’t say anything about all this,” Dani requested. “Just give him the money.”
“Yeah, it’d be better for both of us. It made me think twice, the way he broke Tarzan’s legs—not to mention what he done to Tilman Yates. A hairpin like that, he ain’t gonna draw the line at anything.”
Dani went back to her motel room. As she guessed, Sixkiller came by, and she filled him in on what she had learned from Leathers. “We can cross out Megan and Bake. They were at the table with me when the call came,” she mentioned.
Luke listened carefully, then worried, “It’s not too good—that Tom knows about you, Dani.”
“He won’t say anything.”
“You’re too trusting. If you’d been through a little more, you’d know not to trust anybody.”
“That’s no way to live,” Dani protested. “Tom’s just as much a victim as the others. And we can use him, Luke. He can tell us about the next drop. I have a list of those he’s gotten money from. Now we can set a trap. It’s the best thing that could have happened.”
Sixkiller looked at her, taking in the clear eyes and the freshness of her face. “You’ll learn better, I guess. But I hate to see it. Keep that gun handy. “A thought struck him, and he asked, “When you pulled the gun on Leathers, were you ready to use it?”
“Why—” Dani faltered, then seeing his expression, retorted, “I didn’t have to use it!”
“Next time you might,” Luke warned. “Listen, if you’re not prepared to use it, don’t take it. I’ll do the shooting, if it comes to that.”
“I can handle it!”
“No, you can’t,” he denied her words at once. “You’re too proud to admit it, but you can’t do the job. Ben said lots of times you’re mad because you can’t be a man, no matter how hard you try.”
Dani was furious. She got up, flounced across the room, and threw the door open. “Good night!” she snapped.
He moved across the room, leaving at once, and she slammed the door behind him. “Ben Savage!” she muttered angrily. “He knows a lot about women!”
She showered and went to bed, but sleep did not come quickly. For an hour she lay there, trying to convince herself she was going to sleep, but then she would either begin to think about what Leathers had said—or wonder if Luke and Ben were right about her.
The phone rang so unexpectedly that she jerked convul
sively. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was nearly two-thirty. She stared at the phone, fighting back a dark fear that lurked in her.
“Hello?” She said, finally picking it up.
“Dani, I told you not to be clever.” It was the same voice, but this time there was an angry thread in it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Dani insisted.
“Sure, you do—but you won’t do it again.” Something that sounded like a giggle came to his voice, and he whispered, “Better see to your horse, Dani.”
The phone went dead, and Dani leaped out of bed, trembling so violently she could hardly find the light switch.
Biscuit!
An image of the faithful horse flashed in her mind, and she began scrambling into her clothes. When she was dressed, she grabbed her purse, drew out the .38, then after checking the loads, left the room.
She wanted to break every speeding law in Houston, but knew that it wouldn’t help to get stopped. Her mind raced, and she had to fight down the fear that tried to rise in her like a dark cloud.
He must have been watching Tom and me, she thought. It’s the only way he could have known about me.
She braked the truck and was out of it almost before it stopped rolling. The parking lot was empty, and she ran at once to the area where Clyde kept his stock. Clyde had offered her the use of it, explaining, “The stalls will be empty tonight. I’m having new stuff put in tomorrow. Plenty of room for your horse.” There was nobody in sight as she darted down the long runway that led to the stockpen. The silence of the place frightened her, and when she got to the line of stalls, her eyes sought the rust color of Biscuit.
He’s gone! was her first thought, and she gave a little cry as she ran to the stall where she’d put him.
But Biscuit wasn’t gone.
He was lying on his side, his mouth open as he gasped for breath, his eyes wide and rolling.
“Biscuit!” Dani cried, and fell to her knees at his side. She was weeping, her hot tears rolling down her cheeks and onto the nose of the dying animal.
Revenge at the Rodeo Page 17