“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, then reached down and picked up a biscuit before following Marcy out of the room.
Marcy watched the joyful reunion between the two brothers in silent fascination and caught herself wondering how it would be to have the huge man as her brother-in-law. She quickly reproached herself for allowing such far-fetched daydreams and left to fix a plate of food for Cullen. While she was gone, Cullen expressed his surprise that Jug was recovered enough to be in the saddle again. He had not expected a recovery of such short duration. “I don’t know why I’m surprised,” he commented, joking. “You’ve got the constitution of a mule—and the good looks, too,” he added.
As for Jug’s part, he was far more shocked than merely surprised to find his eldest brother in such a state. “So Cody found you,” he said when Cullen told him that his younger brother was on his way to Helena, following Yeager and maybe Roberta. Like Cody, Jug was amazed to hear of Roberta’s part in all that had happened. He paused when Marcy returned with food for Cullen as well as Jug’s plate from the oven.
“You looked as if you were reluctant to leave your plate,” she teased, “even when you found out we had your brother in here.”
“Well, now, that is a fact,” Jug replied with a wide grin, happy to be reunited with his plate. They ate while they talked, and Jug decided that he should head for Helena right away to see if he could pick up any trace of Cody’s whereabouts. “Since I don’t have to worry about you anymore,” he concluded. “Looks to me like you’re in pretty good hands,” he added with the hint of a twinkle in his eye. “That gal looks at you like she’d like to pour syrup on you and eat you up.”
“Huh . . .” Cullen grunted. “You’re still dizzy from that hole in your side.” The idea pleased him, however.
Chapter 11
Having already decided that he was going to take a cautious look around town for Cody McCloud, Bob Yeager searched the face of every man he met on the street as he walked from one saloon to another. After all, fifty dollars was nothing to pass up if the odds were in his favor. He paused in front of Jake’s Saloon to look up and down the street once more before entering to have a drink of whiskey. Standing in the doorway, he surveyed the room, looking for anyone who might be the man he was hunting, but the only customers in the place were a few men sitting at the tables playing cards. Weighing heavily on his mind was the fact that he had no description of Cody McCloud. He could be any one of the men seated at the table. To make matters worse, McCloud probably knew he was tracking a man with a hell of a scar on the side of his face. Uncomfortable with that thought, he walked up to the far end of the bar where he could watch the door.
“Yes, sir?” Jake asked, then seemed to stare openly at him.
“Whiskey,” Yeager ordered, “and none of that watered-down stuff.”
“I don’t serve watered-down whiskey here,” Jake informed him while still gazing at him intently, taking special note of the scar on the side of his face. “Did that feller ever find you?” he asked.
The comment served to bring Yeager up short, but he managed to remain calm. “What feller would that be?”
“Young feller’s been lookin’ all over town for somebody with a scar on his face,” Jake replied. “No offense, but I couldn’t help noticing. I thought you mighta been the man he was lookin’ for. Don’t make much difference, though, ’cause he’s in jail.”
“In jail?” Yeager responded, totally surprised. “For what?”
“Sheriff Price said he was stalkin’ some woman in town.”
“Is that a fact?” Yeager replied. A slow grin began to form beneath the heavy beard, for he had a pretty good idea who the woman might be—the one Jack Sykes denied knowing. “In jail, huh? Well, ain’t we lucky we got a sheriff that knows his business?” He tossed his drink back and slammed the empty glass on the bar while he endured the burn of the whiskey in his throat. “Damn, that’s terrible stuff. Wish I had a barrel of it.” He put his money on the counter and promptly left the saloon, feeling that Lady Luck was smiling his way. Outside, he headed on a diagonal line across the street toward the jail.
He took a casual stroll by the sheriff’s office, looking the building over carefully, paying special attention to the barred windows in the rear where the cells were. I ain’t ever shot a man in jail before, he thought. The notion was sufficient to prod his sense of humor. That would be something. He sure wouldn’t have no place to hide. He took another look at the cell windows. Might have to be on my horse to reach them windows. The idea intrigued him. “Hell, why not?” he asked aloud. “I’ll just wait till after dark and collect another easy fifty dollars.”
Pacing back and forth like a caged animal, Cody was helpless to do anything about his situation. Lonnie had brought him a plate of food for his supper, but had offered no information regarding the sheriff’s plans for the accused. All he could tell Cody was that the sheriff had gone in search of the woman who complained, but so far he had not been able to find her. She had checked out of the hotel, leaving no word of her immediate plans. This alone was enough to drive Cody to despair. When the sheriff returned to his office after dusk, Cody learned that he had no plans to release him.
“If the woman who made the charges has left town,” Cody argued, “then why in hell are you still holdin’ me?”
“What’s your hurry, son?” Sheriff Price responded. “Ain’t we feedin’ you proper? Ain’t Lonnie takin’ care of you?”
“You’ve got no reason to keep me locked up,” Cody complained, thoroughly frustrated by Price’s paternal attitude. Roberta was getting farther and farther away while he lingered there bickering with the sheriff. “I haven’t broken any of your damn laws. You can’t hold me for somethin’ you think I might do.”
Price hesitated for a moment to consider the matter before giving his final decision. “You might be right, considerin’ the lady ain’t showed up yet to press charges.” Seeing a glint of hope in Cody’s eyes, he hastened to add, “But I’ve got to make sure she’s left town before I can turn you loose, so you just make yourself comfortable and enjoy another night of Helena’s hospitality.”
Disgusted, Cody could not stop himself from exclaiming, “Why, you old hardheaded son of a bitch! You’re lettin’ a murderer get away. Let me the hell outta here, so I can do your job for you!”
“You just got yourself another night in jail,” Price said, with still no show of emotion. Fighting to restrain his anger, Cody turned away from the bars and retreated to his cot to avoid any additional jail time.
Finally resigning himself to another night in jail, Cody lay down on his cot to try to get some sleep. He lay awake for a while, long after the town had quieted down for the night and only the sound of Lonnie’s snoring in the next room registered on his mind. It was well after midnight when he was stirred from sleep by a sound like scratching on the wall outside the window over his cot. Fully awake then, he got up to investigate, realizing there was someone at the window.
“McCloud?” a loud whisper called in the dark. “Is that you?”
“Yeah,” Cody answered. “Who is that?”
“A friend,” the voice came back. “Step up where I can see you.”
At once suspicious, Cody immediately pressed flat against the wall. He knew he didn’t have any friends in Helena. “All right,” he said, and slid along the wall until he was right beside the window. Standing with his feet on the frame of his cot, he could see the shadow of a pistol played across the iron bars. “Here I am,” he said, and in the next instant, the pistol was thrust through the bars. Cody grabbed hold of it and tried to pull it away from his would-be assassin. A ferocious tug between him and Bob Yeager took place then, with each man strong enough to hold on, but not powerful enough to wrest it from the other’s hand. Finally in desperation, Yeager pulled the trigger in hopes of hitting Cody somewhere. The crack of the .44 sounded like an explosion in the confines of the cell, waking Lonnie in the office. “Is that you, Yeager?” Cody taunted, c
alling his assailant by the name Cullen had remembered. Startled, Yeager cocked the single-action revolver and pulled the trigger again just as Lonnie burst through the door with a shotgun. Seeing the muzzle flash from the pistol, he cut loose with the shotgun, aiming at the window. Already seeing it coming, Cody had to release his hold on the pistol and drop to the floor to keep from being hit by Lonnie’s shotgun blast. Yeager didn’t waste any time withdrawing from his perch on a rain barrel outside the window. He ran down the alley behind the jail where his horses waited, and in no time at all, galloped away into the darkness, cursing the lost opportunity.
“What the hell’s goin’ on?” Lonnie demanded, and rushed to the window, only to find Yeager long gone. Too flustered to make heads or tails out of the attack on his prisoner, he went back in the office and returned a few moments later with a lantern. “What the hell’s goin’ on?” he repeated to Cody, who was getting up from the floor. “Who was that done the shootin’?”
“The son of a bitch that shot my brother,” Cody exclaimed, “the man you and that grandpappy of a sheriff oughta be chasin’ instead of lockin’ innocent people up.”
Lonnie continued to stand there confused for a long moment before it occurred to him to bolt out the front door of the jail and run around to the back, where he discovered the overturned rain barrel. He stood there for a few moments peering into the empty darkness before returning to confront Cody again. “Why was he tryin’ to shoot you?” he asked.
Impatient to the point of frustration with the bullheaded deputy, Cody replied, “Because he’s a hired killer, damn it. Somebody hired him to kill my brother and me, and I’ve got a pretty good notion it was that woman you and the sheriff think is such a fine lady.” He could see that it was too much for Lonnie’s simple mind. “So unlock this damn door and let me outta here.”
“What’s goin’ on, Lonnie?” Sheriff Price strode purposefully through the door, his revolver in hand. “I heard shots up at the house. Who’s doin’ the shootin’?” Lonnie related the events that had just taken place, and reported that the perpetrator had managed to escape before he could get around behind the building. Appalled to think someone could attempt murder on a prisoner in custody, Price turned his attention to Cody then. “Who was it, son? And don’t tell me you don’t know. You’re mixed up in somethin’ and I intend to find out what it is.”
Cody sighed in frustration. “Like I’ve been tryin’ to tell you all along, it’s some hired killer named Bob Yeager. He shot my brother and he’s out to get me.”
“Why?”
“Because that woman who got me locked up doesn’t want me to catch up with her.”
“And why is that?” Price responded, then frowned as Cody painfully reiterated the explanation he had related several times since his arrest. As before, Price turned it over in his mind, but remained reluctant to release Cody. “Somethin’ don’t sound right about the whole thing,” he decided. “You’re up to somethin’ that just don’t have a good smell about it, so you ain’t goin’ nowhere till I get to the bottom of this.”
“Jesus!” Cody exclaimed, his frustration becoming overwhelming.
“It ain’t gonna do you no good to take the Lord’s name in vain,” Price admonished. “I don’t allow that around here. You just go on back to bed.” To Lonnie, he said, “You’d best lock the front door in case his friend tries it again, and I’ll see you in the mornin’.”
Lonnie passed a plate of biscuits and gravy to Cody the next morning, then went into the office to enjoy his breakfast. Ordinarily he had his breakfast at the café across the street before going home for the day, but the sheriff had a meeting with the mayor this morning, so he asked Lonnie to stay past his normal hours. He didn’t like to leave the office empty when there was a prisoner in the cells. Lonnie was in the process of sopping up the last bit of gravy with the one biscuit left when he was interrupted by a visitor.
He swung his chair around, dropping his feet to the floor when the door opened and the stranger walked in. Lonnie was larger than the average fellow, so he immediately took note of the man’s size. And when he rose from the chair, he was aware that the stranger was half a head taller than he. “Can I help you?” Lonnie asked.
“Yep, I wanna file a complaint,” was the answer.
“Well, the sheriff’ll be back in about an hour,” Lonnie responded. “He’s the man you file complaints with.”
“This is kinda urgent,” the visitor insisted. “I need to have it taken care of right now.”
Lonnie had little patience for taking care of anything this early in the morning, especially when he was supposed to be relieved of duty after spending the night there, but he tried to remain civil. “What kind of complaint have you got?” he asked.
“My brother’s locked up in jail and he didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”
Lonnie didn’t know how to respond at once, but he soon realized his choices were limited when the imposing stranger drew a Colt .44 from his holster and leveled it at him. “Whoa!” he blurted involuntarily. “You can’t do that!”
“I reckon I’m doin’ it,” Jug replied, and cocked the hammer back.
“Take it easy!” Lonnie exclaimed as Jug motioned him toward the cell room door. “I’m goin’.”
“Cody!” Jug yelled. “You in there?”
“Jug?” came the surprised reply from the cell room. “Yeah, I’m in here.”
“Be there in a minute,” Jug called, then directed his next remark to the shaken deputy. “I expect one of those rifles in the rack yonder belongs to my brother. You’d best unlock it.” He moved to a position from which he could see the contents of the drawer when Lonnie got the key in case there was a handgun kept there. After the deputy unlocked the gun rack, Jug said, “All right, let’s get that cell door open.”
“Well, damn, Jug,” Cody remarked, “looks like your wound musta healed up pretty good. I can’t say I ain’t happy to see you. I see you met Lonnie.” He stood aside when Lonnie opened the cell door and Jug nudged him into the cell. “That cot has a lumpy mattress,” Cody told the now sullen deputy. “But I expect the sheriff will be back before too long, so you oughta be comfortable till then.” As an afterthought, he added, “Watch out for that window, though. You never can tell what might come through it.”
“You gonna eat the rest of that biscuit?” Jug asked when Cody came out of the cell. Cody shook his head, not really surprised. “Well, ain’t no sense in lettin’ it go to waste,” Jug said, and stepped inside far enough to reach it.
Cody chuckled. “I would say we could go to the café for some breakfast, but under the circumstances, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“That’s all right,” Jug said while stuffing the last of the biscuit in his mouth. “I ate at the café before I came over to get you. That’s how I found out where you were.”
Outside the sheriff’s office, they attempted to appear casual, even though they weren’t sure how much time they had. “We’ve got to get my horse from the stable,” Cody said. “But I want to take a minute to look behind the jail.” Hurrying around to the rear of the building, he told Jug of the attempted murder by the same man who had shot Cullen. Finding the overturned barrel, he searched the ground for tracks, but there were none left by horses. The few footprints he found led down the alley. “Come on,” he said. “He musta left his horses down there somewhere. We’ve gotta go that way anyway to get to the stables.” He looked up at the window above his head then. “You all right in there, Lonnie?” There was no answer from the cell. He glanced at Jug and remarked, “I think Lonnie’s mad at us.” They hustled off, following the alley—Cody ahead and searching the ground for tracks, Jug behind him, leading his horse.
A couple dozen yards down the alley, behind the hardware store, they came to a spot where two horses had apparently been tied, and Cody stopped to study the tracks more closely. In a few seconds, he announced, “This is what I’m lookin’ for.” He pointed to a hoofprint in the hard dirt for Jug to
see. “See that? I took a file and cut a couple of marks in that shoe. That’s Cullen’s bay.” He paused to take a quick glance behind them. “I know we ain’t got much time, but we need to see which way he headed. He’s the bastard that shot Cullen.”
“What about the woman?” Jug asked. “Have you seen her?”
“No, for a fact, I ain’t,” Cody replied. “But she’s seen me. That’s how I ended up in jail. The bitch musta spotted me as soon as I came to town, then went and told the sheriff that I was stalkin’ her. Accordin’ to the sheriff, she’s checked out of the hotel. No doubt she’s left town and I don’t have a notion which way she went, her and some feller she calls her brother. I’m more interested in findin’ this Yeager feller first. He’s the one that left Cullen for dead beside the trail, and I can track him if I have half a chance.” Luck was with them, for the hoofprints told them that Yeager had headed straight out of town after leaving the alley. “Let’s get my horse. Then we can come back here and pick up his trail.”
“That friend of yours you were lookin’ for left outta here last evenin’,” Malcolm Barnes said when he saw Cody walk into the stable. “Did you ever find him?”
“No,” Cody replied, “but he sent me a message.” He didn’t elaborate. “He didn’t say where he was headin’, did he?”
“No, he didn’t. Anyway, I see you got outta jail,” Malcolm went on.
“Yeah, my lawyer got me out,” Cody replied, and nodded toward Jug, who grinned wide in response. “I’m leavin’ now myself. How much do I owe you for the extra night?”
While Cody settled up with Barnes, Jug remained by the front door of the stable, keeping an eye on the street running up the gulch. In a few minutes’ time, Buttermilk was saddled and Cody led him out to join Jug. “We’d best stay in the alley goin’ back,” he said. “That fool sheriff might be back by now.”
Thunder Over Lolo Pass Page 18