Bullets in the Sun

by Robert J. Horton

  Bond laughed coldly. “Tom, you’re not half . . . not a tenth as smart as I thought you were. I’m going to have that five thousand now and here. And I’m going to salt it in the bank so you can’t frame anything on me to get it back, see? I wasn’t born yesterday, nor the day before, and I wouldn’t trust you the width of this table. What’s more, big boy, as soon as you’ve forked over the dough, we’ve got another little matter to take up. So you better get this over with quick. There’s no use in you playing a waiting game”—he shook his head earnestly—“for if anybody happens to drop into this room, it’s just naturally going to be your hard luck.”

  Lester reached inside his coat, took out a wallet, and passed Bond a number of banknotes that totaled $5,000. His face was white and his lips were drawn in a fine, white line. His eyes were pinpoints of smoldering fire.

  Bond counted and pocketed the money. Then he rested his elbows on the table, with his weapon at his right, and spoke in a low, serious voice.

  “I know exactly what’s in your mind this minute, big boy. You’re thinking that cut-throat friend of yours, Lawson, will help you out in this. You might as well get that out of your head. Lawson is no fool, if you are. He isn’t going to pick trouble with a go-getter who isn’t meddling in his affairs for the sake of doing a favor for a man who has done nothing more than kowtow to him and take his money and his men’s money. He doesn’t care the snap of his finger for you. I’m ready and willing, and anxious, to tell you that in his presence. So get that out of your head. You’d better ride back slow-like, when it’s cool, and let the wind fan your piece of brain a little.”

  Lester opened his mouth and closed it. This was Bovert!

  “Now, what was that other little proposition you said you might have for me if I carried out this job successfully?” asked Bond after a pause.

  “That was a bluff,” snarled Lester. “You can’t kick. You’ve got your money.”

  “Well, you’re telling the truth, at last.” Bond nodded. “And that’s the wise thing to do with me. Just keep on telling it and play safe. What were you doing talking to his nibs, the sheriff?”

  “What was you talkin’ with him about?” flared Lester.

  “That’s a fair question.” Bond smiled. “I went straight to headquarters to find out if I was wanted. I know what you think. You think I’m an hombre called Bovert. If I am, I’m bad, big boy, and don’t forget that. I know the word the sheriff left with you . . . to lay off me, if I’m this obnoxious person. I gave him a chance . . . or he thought I did . . . to grab me if he wanted me. Well, you see me sitting here, don’t you? I expect he told you about it, you being an old pal of his. Now then, what did you go for?”

  Lester was all at sea. This frankness disturbed him. He decided to meet Bond on his own ground.

  “I went to tell him that I couldn’t promise you protection, that is, I . . . my promise to him was all off,” he finished with a scowl. There was one point that also disturbed him. Bond had made no mention of the attack upon him in the resort the night he had listened in the little room near the office. He decided that, if Bond didn’t bring the matter up, he wouldn’t accuse him of eavesdropping. In any event, Big Tom was becoming rather bewildered by the fast and unexpected turn that his trip had taken.

  “Imagine you giving me protection,” said Bond with a grim smile. “You’d have shot me down this morning if you could have got close enough . . . and if I hadn’t dropped you first. Where’s Lawson?” The question came sharp and clear.

  Lester’s eyes widened, and he put a hand across his mouth. “Not so loud,” he said. “I don’t know, an’ that’s the truth. Do . . . do you know?” He put the query anxiously.

  “Nope.” Bond shook his head. “I’m not meddling with him, as long as he leaves me alone. Say, Lester, why are you so all-fired curious about Farlin’s movements?”

  “I paid you five thousand for your . . . your services,” Lester answered. “It wasn’t understood that I had to make any explanation.”

  “You’ve got me there,” Bond agreed readily. “Only there’s one thing you don’t want to overlook, big boy. Dan Farlin is an old-timer. If he knew you were so keen to pry into his business, he wouldn’t like it a little bit. If he knew you’d put a man on his trail, he’d be plumb mad. He isn’t afraid of you, and he doesn’t pack that little snub-nosed gun of his in his cuff as a bracelet, either.” He paused to let this sink in and saw a worried look in the big man’s eyes for a moment. “If you try any underhand tricks on me, big boy,” he went on evenly, “I’m going to tell Dan Farlin just how the trouble started, see? You can’t blame me. I’m one man, but you’re trying to make me think that you’re an army, and I’m taking you at your word.” He rapped sharply on the top of the table with the muzzle of his gun.

  Lester started to his feet, but sank back into his chair at a signal from Bond, who sheathed his gun, broke Lester’s weapon, spilled the cartridges into his hand, put them in his pocket, and handed the empty gun to the resortkeeper.

  The man who had served Lester came in.

  “Bring a bottle of ginger ale,” Bond ordered, and Lester nodded.

  When the man had gone, Bond spoke quietly.

  “When he brings it, throw it out the window, or drink it, and tell him anything you please. If it should ever be necessary, Dan Farlin can make him say that we were together in this room. So long, Tommy.”

  Jim Bond went out, closing the door softly behind him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Dan Farlin left the bank, he sauntered about town. He nodded to casual acquaintances often but stopped to converse with none. He ventured into side streets, but they always were situated on the side where the bank was located, and, as the jail and the resort where Lester had repaired to be discovered by Jim Bond, were on the opposite side of the main street, he didn’t have a chance to observe either of them. Farlin was concerned with the rear approach to the bank and its proximity to the main trails leading north and west.

  To all appearances, his business completed, he merely was killing time before starting back after the heat of the day. But, in reality, he was getting the lay of the land, taking in every point of vantage that could be utilized in such a raid as Lawson planned. And it is extremely doubtful if any of the outlaw leader’s followers could have obtained so much valuable information in so short a time. Farlin had made up his mind that he would not make more than one visit to the town in the interest of his present enterprise. If he could avoid a second visit, so much the better.

  At last his inspection was ended. Farlin walked up the main street, undoubtedly the most distinguished-appearing individual in town. Oblivious of the attention he was attracting, the gambler continued on with his thoughts. Many times he had considered entering the very game in which the notorious Lawson was engaged. He had been turned aside in this ambition, first because of the ease with which he reaped a harvest at the green-topped tables, and second because of his wife, Gladys’s mother. He was going to have to leave all this—the scene he loved—and forfeit, perhaps, the respect of the men who knew him well. He shrugged. It was all in the game. But in his heart of hearts, he knew this was not true.

  The genuine warmth in the greetings of George Reed, the hotel proprietor, and John Duggan, the banker, lingered in his mind. It was also noteworthy that Farlin realized keenly that he took two risks—the risk of being identified with Lawson’s nefarious undertaking and the dangerous prospect of being double-crossed by the outlaw. The news that the vast domain about Sunrise was soon to be developed ordained in advance the passing of that town as a rendezvous for the lawless. John Duggan might just as well have told him that the north range careers of Lawson, himself—yes, and of Lester—were soon to end.

  Dan Farlin’s fine eyes lost their luster in a glint of hardness. Since this was to be his last play, he would make it pay as no other game ever had paid him in the past. He would send Gladys away from the scene, and he would himself engineer and direct the raid upon the bank
and . . . He stopped in his tracks with a new and startling thought. Perhaps Lawson already had considered the new angle, but—why not knock off Big Tom Lester’s place in the bargain? Two big jobs, and two big splits, and independence on a big scale for the rest of his life, with Gladys well provided for when he should pass on.

  The gambler’s eyes gleamed; he straightened to his full height, and threw back his shoulders involuntarily. It was like calling “fours” with a “full hand” when he was not sure but that he was beaten. He started and turned almost guiltily as a familiar voice fell upon his ear.

  “What do you think of the old town since we dressed her up?”

  He looked into the quizzical, blue eyes of Sheriff Mills. His first thought was of the remodeled interior of the bank. “A few coats of fresh paint will do wonders, Sheriff,” he replied at random. A sly glance about, however, showed him he was not far from the mark.

  “Bet your life,” said Sheriff Mills heartily. “I’ve been preaching the doctrine of fresh paint for years, and this spring, when the boom started, they got together and decided I was right. Did you see how they’ve fixed up the bank?”

  “Couldn’t miss it,” said Farlin, looking the other squarely in the eyes. “Just stuck a wad in there for safekeeping in case I was to get old and need it.”

  “You’ll get old one of these days, Dan,” mused the sheriff. “And your game can’t last forever, no matter how you play it.”

  Farlin frowned. “Say, Mills, are you going to read me a lecture?” he asked. “Because if you were figuring on doing that, you can save your breath. I’ve been reading myself a lecture these past two or three years. We’re both old-timers, and I guess we can read the writing on the wall. And you’re in a better fix than I am.”

  “So?” Mills seemed surprised. “Why, you must have quite a pile cached somewhere, Dan. You haven’t been reckless here lately.”

  Farlin shrugged. “I only have one business, if you can call it that,” he said cryptically.

  “How’s tricks out at Sunrise?” asked Mills casually.

  “Hard to take,” was Farlin’s short answer.

  “Anybody come in with you?” asked the sheriff absently.

  “Not that I know of,” replied the gambler with a sharp look.

  Mills decided that Farlin did not know of the presence of Bond and Lester and made up his mind not to mention the coincidence of their being in town at the same time. Possibly there was no connection between their visits and that of Farlin. But he was thinking.

  “Figuring on a little play here in town, Dan?” he asked.

  Farlin smiled. “Once a gambler, always a gambler . . . eh, Mills? Suppose I was hankering to finger the pasteboards here, Sheriff. Suppose I’d come to the conclusion that this was rich territory . . . then what?”

  “No objection on my part,” replied Mills readily enough. “You know I’ve never kicked on your play. Of course, I’ve never lost any money in a game that you were in,” he quickly added as an afterthought.

  Dan Farlin laughed outright, and, when Farlin laughed that way, it was good to hear. “Mills, I’m almost beginning to think you’re a friend of mine,” he said, sobering suddenly.

  “Thinking back quite a spell, I can’t remember ever having showed myself to be your enemy,” drawled the official, squinting.

  “That’s three of ’em,” Farlin muttered. He was thinking of Reed, Duggan, and the sheriff. “Nice of you to say that, Sheriff,” he said. “And the enemies I’ve got stay pretty well under cover.” The last words carried a grim note.

  “Well, I haven’t been to dinner even,” said Mills, looking at his ponderous watch. “Do you calculate to go back soon, Dan?”

  “I’m sleeping in town tonight,” said Farlin. “I don’t like to stay away from Gladys long, but I’m not the rider I used to be.”

  “Then maybe we’ll meet up later,” said Mills as he moved away.

  Farlin looked after him. Of all the people on that range, none knew better than Dan Farlin what a smooth, shrewd man was the sheriff of Crazy Butte County. At this very moment, he knew Mills had something on his mind, and he sensed that it had something to do with Sunrise and the people there. Could it be possible that he had an inkling of Lawson’s plan—perhaps even of Farlin’s connection with it? The gambler thoughtfully resumed his walk.

  Farlin dwelt, too, on the sheriff’s question as to whether he was in town alone. For the first time he considered the possibility of having been followed, but he put this aside with a shrug. What difference would it make? Only one man—Lester, possibly—could be interested in his movements, excepting Lawson. Anything that Lester could learn as to where he had gone would avail him nothing, and Lawson could not come to Rocky Point without breaking his truce with Sheriff Mills. Besides he . . .

  The gambler yawned and went to his room in the hotel. He had no intention of remaining there all night, but there was no reason why he shouldn’t take a nap and start back in the coolness of the early night. He was downright tired, and the weakening reaction of the nervous strain he had been under had set in. He turned in for forty winks as he promised himself.

  Meanwhile, Jim Bond did go to the bank and deposit the $5,000 that Lester had paid him, and more besides. He, too, snatched a light rest, but it was in the barn, for he intended to be the first to leave for Sunrise in the evening. Lester disappeared from the scene entirely, put up in sleeping quarters, doubtless, by a friend in his own business. His trip to Rocky Point had availed him nothing, although he more than half believed all that Bond had told him. Thus it was a queer triangle of affairs in Rocky Point this afternoon.

  When Dan Farlin woke, it was dark. He hastily lighted the lamp and found it was nearly midnight. He had overslept by hours! Moreover, he was stiff and sore as the result of his long ride. He bathed his aching body in hot water and dressed hurriedly. He went to a small café for something to eat and then repaired to the livery. He asked if anyone he knew had been in, but the night man did not know him and replied in the negative. Farlin did not bother putting any questions elsewhere and rode away shortly after midnight.

  It was torture for the first two miles that Farlin rode, and then the soreness began to wear off and a feeling akin to exhilaration possessed him. It was a night made to order, as he himself expressed it. A great silver moon rode among the star clusters and a soft wind laved the land of weaving shadows. He had a good horse. He flattered himself that he was not old for his age. And he had Gladys. Surely if ever a man had a legitimate reason to turn such a trick as he contemplated, it was he. Three of them—Reed, Duggan, and Mills—and what good would they do him if he were down and out? A loan! For what? To be used as a stake to gamble himself into the money again! No, he had to go through with Lawson. But . . .

  He had nearly reached the dividing of the trail south of the butte when a shadow, swift-moving, detached itself from the black hand of the trees and sped toward him.

  Farlin instinctively reined in his horse, the Derringer sliding into his right hand, and waited. Long before the rider came up to him, he recognized the burly form of Lawson in the saddle. He sighed with relief and the deadly little gun disappeared.

  Lawson held up a hand as he approached. “’Lo, Dan,” he greeted genially. “I had to ride out this way an’ thought you wouldn’t mind if I trailed along with you.”

  “It’s poor judgment,” said Farlin coldly. “We may not be the only people riding about and it wouldn’t look good for us to be seen together. I suppose you never thought of that.” His last words were brimming with sarcasm and struck an antagonistic note in Lawson.

  “You needn’t be so particular,” said the outlaw. “We’re alone. I’ve had my eyes peeled, so don’t worry.”

  “I suppose you were afraid I might overstay,” said Farlin. He was nettled and suddenly the outlaw’s presence was repulsive.

  Lawson quieted his horse. “Listen, Dan,” he said in an earnest voice, “I’ve been on your trail . . . keepin’ out of sight, remem
ber. I don’t know if you know it or not, but two people followed you to town.”

  Farlin recalled instantly the sheriff’s query as to whether he had come alone. “What of it?” he asked somewhat belligerently.

  “Just this,” replied Lawson sharply, “this isn’t a kid’s game we’re playin’, an’ I’m not takin’ any chances of bein’ double-crossed myself and I’m not takin’ any chances of you bein’ double-crossed. Did you see anybody in town from Sunrise?”

  “No,” Farlin answered bluntly. He was not altogether at ease.

  “Well, that Bovert or Bond . . . that young fellow who’s been buttin’ in on things generally . . . followed you in. Lester sent him. Lester told me himself that he sent him. An’ then Lester, the big jackass, followed his man, tried to outrun him in a race to the butte, lost out, an’ he went on into town. Now, you know something.”

  Dan Farlin was frowning. “Lester’s afraid I’m going to quit his joint,” he said, half to himself. “He’s a fool.”

  “Sure,” Lawson agreed. “But in messing around the woodenhead’s liable to get something into his nut that don’t belong there, see? As for that young snort, Bond, I can attend to him fast enough.”

  Farlin started. “Leave him alone,” he said shortly. “We don’t want any rough stuff in this, Lawson.”

  “No?” Lawson’s tone implied a sneer. “Well, I’ll look after that end of it. This is a big play an’ there’s too much at stake to let any lumbering hombre like Lester, or any whippersnapper like Bond . . . no matter how tough he is . . . gum things up. See?”

  Farlin looked about. The huge, black bulk of Crazy Butte rose above them in the north. To their left—eastward—were the dark shadows of the trees in the tumbled lands and southeastward the plain flowed in shadowy waves under the moonlit sky.

  “Well, this is a fine open spot for a conference,” he observed.

  “Lester an’ Bond have ridden back toward Sunrise,” said the outlaw. “Bond went first . . . an’ fast. Lester’s takin’ it easy. I’ve been on watch here ever since you went to town.”