The E.R. Slade Western Omnibus No.1

by E. R. Slade

  “Ah,” the old man said, nodding.

  Ben came down from the mow and held out his hand. The old man peered at him closely, then shook with him. He had a surprisingly firm handshake for a man who looked so aged.

  “You are Fred Sikes?” Ben asked.

  “That I am. And who might you be, young feller?”

  “Ben Gordon. I ...”

  The old man’s eyebrows shot up and he grabbed Ben’s hand again and shook it with enthusiasm. “I heard about what you tried to do at the meeting last night,” he said, suddenly all alive. “If I had known about that, I’d have come and backed your hand. I used to be a U.S. marshal, you know. That’s something a lot different from Clauson.”

  “I’m sure it is,” Ben said. “But nobody said a word against Clauson and the vote was unanimous in favor of keeping him.”

  “Pshaw,” Sikes said. “There ain’t the gimp of a jackrabbit amongst ’em.”

  “You’re right about that. But now I’m reduced to trying to get Miss Bailey safely out of town.” Ben explained why and the trick they’d played on Clauson. “We need a place to lay low today and tonight we’ll leave. I don’t mind paying. I was going to leave you some money, anyway.”

  “No, you ain’t going to pay me nothin’. It’s an honor to lend a hand. I get asked any questions—and I probably won’t because Clauson knows what I think of him—anyway, if I do, I’ll send ’em on a wild goose chase. You just set tight. Now, you need supplies? I don’t see no saddles or bridles for them hosses of yourn.”

  “We’re all set that way. After dark we’ll go load our stockpile of stuff and take off. Appreciate the offer, though.”

  “What you got for guns?” Sikes wanted to know, squinting doubtfully at Ben’s old Remington conversion. “I got some nice guns in the house. Got a good rifle?”

  “It’s in Clauson’s office, I’ve been told. I’m going to try to get it back. You happen to see if Clauson set off west out of town this morning?”

  “Matter of fact, he did. I thought it was kind of odd. Then I remembered about you. I was hoping he wouldn’t come back. Thought maybe you might give him a few blue whistlers where it would do the most good.”

  “Seen Kid Clauson around this morning?”

  “No, but he’ll be in some saloon building his load. Likes to git an early start, if you know what I mean.”

  “Then I’m going to go after my rifle.”

  Sikes nodded, but now he’d gotten started he wanted to talk. It took Ben another ten minutes to get away and make for the marshal’s office. Nancy sat on the edge of the loft and continued the conversation.

  Ben circled to the right around the outside of town and came in at the rear of the stone jail, listened at the window, heard nothing, and slipped down the alley. There weren’t many people on the street this morning. No sign of a Clauson. He stepped quickly around the corner and went into the marshal’s office.

  No one there. Just a desk with a calendar on the wall behind it, wanted posters in a neglected heap in a corner, door leading back into the jail. But also a rack on the wall to the left holding several rifles, including his own. Not fastened or locked in any way. Clauson was a very confident man.

  The gun wasn’t loaded, but in a couple of minutes Ben found his saddlebag with ammunition in it, and the cartridges that had been in the rifle loose in the top desk drawer. He thumbed them back in and, after a look through the front window, went out. He made it back to the little tumbledown barn by lunchtime, fairly confident he hadn’t been seen by much of anybody.

  Nancy was there, alone, in the rear of the mow out of sight.

  “I should never question what you’re doing,” she said, admiring the rifle he had carried into the loft with him.

  “I don’t know about that. But I do feel a lot better with this back.”

  “We’re invited to lunch,” she said.

  They went. Mrs. Sikes looked frail, as Nancy had described her, but she turned out not to be nearly as frail as she looked. When Nancy offered to help her carry things to the table, she gave her a severe glance and said, “In this house, the guests are not asked to do the housework.”

  It was a wonderful meal, which did a great deal for their spirits, but it obviously had taken a lot of effort to prepare. When Ben made a comment about that, she waved it away dismissively. “Young folks are always hungry,” she said.

  And they were, too, in this case. They ate heartily while Sikes told stories of the old days. Afterwards, Sikes was anxious to show Ben mementos, and then, especially, his guns. He had quite a collection, and plenty of stories to go with each one. Several times he tried to offer Ben guns, but Ben assured him he had weapons enough.

  The afternoon passed fairly quickly this way, and toward nightfall Clauson came riding up the street looking weary and disgusted.

  “Looks like you fooled him,” Sikes commented, as they watched out the window. Clauson left his horse at Laskey’s, then crossed the street and went along to his office.

  None of them said anything, waiting to see what might happen. In a couple of minutes or so, Clauson came back out again, went on along the walk to his gambling house and inside.

  “Think he noticed?” Ben asked.

  “He’d have been hotter than a two dollar pistol if he had,” Fred said. “He didn’t notice. Not yet.”

  It was dark enough in another twenty minutes for Ben to go saddle the horses and lead them to an alley ready to cross the street. They had decided he’d load the horses and then bring them back so they could ride out of town along the railway bed the way they had come in.

  Sikes was for loading a rifle and pistol and coming with him, but Ben saw how the old man’s hands shook and talked him out of it. Nancy also wanted to go with him, but he thought it would be better if he went alone, in case there was trouble. It was a judgment call that he wasn’t sure of, but it seemed best on balance.

  He crossed the dark street, picking a place as far as possible from areas where light spilled out onto it. He went around behind Nancy’s house cautiously and stopped to listen for some minutes before digging their supplies out of the doghouse.

  He had just finished loading the horses and was double-checking the ties when he heard Nancy scream, “No! No!”

  Darting around the corner of the house to look into the alley where the screams were coming from, he saw two struggling forms silhouetted against the brightly lit saloon across the street.

  Nancy screamed again, inarticulately, maybe in pain.

  “Let go!” Ben yelled, and the larger figure shoved the smaller out of the end of the alley and out of sight to the right.

  Ben raced after, got around the corner, saw Kid Clauson trying to push a struggling Nancy though the front door of her house a dozen feet away.

  “I said, LET GO!” Ben bellowed, and Kid Clauson went for his right-hand gun.

  The Remington barked, there was a yell of surprised pain, the gun slamming out of Kid Clauson’s hand. He turned, grabbing his wrist, bending over it.

  Nancy came running into Ben’s arms.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, and turned to hurry her along to the alley.

  And there was Ike Clauson, gun aimed right at them.

  Chapter Eleven

  When Nancy saw Ike Clauson she spun away from him and buried her face in Ben’s shoulder. Ben still had his Remington in hand, mostly because he hadn’t yet had an opportunity to holster it.

  And by chance it turned out to be pretty much aimed at Ike. He thumbed the pistol to full cock instinctively and there they stood, covering each other.

  “I told you I’d kill you if you took the girl with you,” Clauson rapped out. “Now let go of her and face your end like a man.”

  Nancy clung hard to Ben with both arms, and would have centered herself in front of him to block any bullet from Clauson, had Ben allowed it—he held her to his side with his left arm.

  “You want to kill anybody for bothering Miss Bailey,” Ben said, “
you’d better start with that worthless brother of yours.”

  “He shot me,” Kid Clauson said, amazed.

  Ike Clauson frowned, peered at his brother. Kid Clauson came around Ben and Nancy to hold out his bloody hand—the wound had to be superficial since the bullet had hit the gun, not his hand.

  Ike looked, blinked, raised an eyebrow. Then the barrel of his pistol tipped up. Ben tipped his up also.

  “You did that?” he asked Ben.

  “I did. You may remember I’m trying to keep Miss Bailey clear of unwelcome suitors.”

  “Lucky shot, eh?”

  “Not so lucky.”

  Ike eyed him warily, holstered his gun.

  Ben swallowed and took a big risk: he holstered his gun also.

  “Miss Bailey and I are going to leave,” Ben said. “Had to come back for our supplies. Now, you can make an issue of it, or not. But I saw you shoot the hired killer.” Ben paused for effect, and also to gather his courage to make the bluff which might be their only chance to escape. “You’re pretty fast, Clauson. Not fast enough, though. Now get out of our way.”

  Ike stood a few moments working his lips in and out, trying to make up his mind.

  All of a sudden he turned on his brother. “You worthless little snot,” he shouted. “I told you to keep away from that girl. Didn’t I?” And he took a swing, which connected solidly, and Kid Clauson staggered back, arms flailing.

  “Come on,” Ben said under his breath into Nancy’s ear—she was still pressed tightly against him.

  She turned hesitantly, saw Ike stepping purposefully toward his brother to take another swing, and when Ben grabbed her hand she came with him willingly. Three steps and they rounded the corner into the alley.

  “Don’t ...” Kid Clauson was begging. “Don’t ...” And then the smack of a fist hitting solidly.

  They didn’t wait for more. In little over a minute they were aboard their horses and riding away into the night.

  They trotted their mounts for some time, Ben ever worried that Clauson was going to change his mind and come after them. But they got out of earshot of the town and put three or four bends in the trail between them and the place without detectable pursuit.

  They slowed their horses to a walk.

  “Mr. Gordon,” Nancy said, “I hope you’re not going to think of a reason to go back there.” Just as prim and proper as she could be.

  “We have all we need. We should be able to keep going this time.”

  “I don’t think I could manage facing that place again. Not after tonight.”

  “What were you doing outside?”

  “I did a foolish thing. I was at the window watching for you when Kid Clauson came along. I thought he saw me before I could draw back. His expression changed, at any rate. He went on by, but then he started to come back and I thought about what might happen to the Sikes if he came in. Fred would have tried the stop him and I was afraid he’d kill them. So I went out the back and onto the sidewalk several doors along and started running. I would have made it to you before he caught me, but I tripped in the street and almost fell down.”

  “Miss Bailey, that was a very dangerous thing to do. But it was also a very brave thing to do, and shows what kind of lady you are. And I’m not surprised you’d do it, either.”

  “I’ve been having nightmares about what will happen to people I’m seen with. I couldn’t ever have lived with myself if anybody had been killed because they tried to help me.”

  “I think you’ve got a lot more nobility than I have.”

  “No, I’m sure I don’t. Anyway, it’s decided then—we’re not going back?”

  “Not if I can help it. But I’ll return sometime when I figure out how to get back your stolen property and get rid of the Clausons.”

  “Don’t, Mr. Gordon. Don’t even think about going back. I’ll be all right..”

  “But your friends are still in that town. And they’re my friends now, too. I’m determined to do something. But not right now. Let’s get you settled somewhere safe.”

  Presently, Nancy said, “I think we may get held up a little. Ginny is limping.”

  In the dark he hadn’t noticed, though it did seem Nancy’s mare had a slow pace loaded. Now he got down and lifted the off front hoof, which the mare favored. The fetlock was noticeably warm. He felt around, found a stone wedged in, pried it out with his knife. But when he tried to walk the horse, her limp was even worse.

  “No good trying to get anywhere this way,” he said tiredly. “Maybe if she gets a night’s rest. Let’s go up the bank here as far as we can and unload everything. We’ll spend the night and see how it is in the morning.”

  He didn’t say it, but he wasn’t optimistic about going far with this horse that soon.

  “She does this sometimes,” Nancy said. “Usually I can’t ride her for days, sometimes more than a week. What’ll we do then?”

  “I’m sure Fred Sikes would let us have another horse. But that means I at least have to go back to town. Let’s see how things are tomorrow.”

  Where Ben’s mood had been lightening by the minute before, as he got used to the idea that they had actually gotten clear of town and apparently without pursuit, now his mood was dark again. Half the weight of the events of the last few days had come back.

  They went about a hundred yards uphill of the trail through thickets of young evergreens, and then had to stop as the mare was barely able to hobble. They unloaded both horses and made a fireless camp. A fire would have done their spirits good, but they both thought there’d be far too much risk in it.

  Then they lay in their blankets a couple of feet from each other. He couldn’t see Nancy, but after a few minutes he heard her sobbing quietly, clearly making an effort to keep her feelings to herself.

  “It’ll be all right,” he said comfortingly. “We’ll figure out something. We might both ride my pony. He’s pretty strong. We’d have to leave part of our supplies behind, but we’ve got extra.”

  She blew her nose. “I didn’t know you could hear me,” she said. “It’s just been an awful lot. I’m so grateful for all you’ve done. I can’t bear to think where I’d be and what would be happening to me if it weren’t for you.”

  Ben didn’t want to think about it, either. And they weren’t safe yet. “Try to get some sleep,” he said.

  Ben didn’t sleep himself for quite some time, pondering. Then, just as he was drifting away, he thought he heard a slight noise out of place and got up on his elbows to listen.

  For minutes and minutes he heard only the low swish of night air in the trees around them.

  Then he heard hoof falls, faintly, below.

  “Miss Bailey?” he whispered.

  “I heard something, too,” she said.

  “Maybe better be on your feet, just in case.”

  “All right, Mr. Gordon.”

  Ben was already up, strapping on his pistol belt, checking the load and action of his rifle.

  “Saddle the pony, will you?”

  “As fast as I can, Mr. Gordon.”

  “I’m going down to try to divert whoever it is.” He stepped downhill toward the faint clop clop coming steadily closer from below. Just as though somebody was following their tracks.

  Ben slipped from tree to tree downhill maybe twenty yards and stopped again to listen—this time, there were no sounds.

  Several seconds went by. Then:

  “This is Fred Sikes. That you, Ben?”

  Ben lowered his rifle, which he’d put to his shoulder.

  “Mr. Sikes? What in the world are you doing out here?”

  Sikes came riding up to him and Ben led the way to the place they’d camped.

  “How’d you find us?” Nancy asked, warily. She had taken the saddle back off the pony and now set it on the log next to her own saddle.

  Sikes clambered down from his horse and chuckled. “I tracked more’n my share of folks over the years.”

  “But how could you see track
s in the dark?” she asked.

  “Don’t really see ’em,” he said. “Just sort of smell my way along.”

  “Miss Bailey’s mare came up lame,” Ben said. “That’s why we’re camped here. What’s going on?”

  Sikes turned serious.

  “Trouble,” he said. “Kin we set down?” he asked. “My old bones is getting sore.”

  “Trouble?” Ben prompted as they sat down on the log the saddles were slung over.

  “Ike Clauson’s hauling people out of saloons and houses by the scruff of the neck, bootin’ ’em off the sidewalk and putting a piece of lead in their backs. He’d done five men when I left. Was all friends of Buddy Winston, except maybe one. He’s payin’ ’em back for hiring that gunslinger.”

  “You thought he might come after you?” Nancy asked.

  Fred Sikes snorted. “He wouldn’t come after me. I’d give him something for what ails him. No, I come because Wade wants to talk to Ben. I said I’d hunt you up and tell you that.”

  “Wade? Why?”

  “Well, see, it’s like this. When you shot Kid Clauson’s gun out of his hand with Ike coming right up behind you, and then told Ike he was fast, but not fast enough, they was two of ’em that saw the whole thing and it wasn’t ten minutes before what you done was all over town. And there’s Clauson shootin’ folks, one right after the other. I guess Wade decided it was time to change his mind about you. Anyway, he come to see me to find out if I knew whether you’d left town yet. He wants to talk to you bad.”

  “Does he,” Ben mused thoughtfully. “Why didn’t he ride out with you?”

  “Said he was going to talk to the other councilors. If you go back, go up to his office. He’ll be waiting there.”

  “Don’t, Mr. Gordon,” Nancy begged him. “What could you actually do?”

  “Ben,” Sikes said, “I can see how you’re fixed, so I’m not going to push you. But it’s a fact that you’re the first man to stand up to Ike Clauson face to face and make him back down. He’s taking it out on them others. If anybody in this world has a chance of gettin’ rid of that devil, it’s you.”

  “It was pure bluff, that’s all. I didn’t have a choice.”