Trail West (A Sam Spur Western Book 6)

by Matt Chisholm

  “Where will you be if I want you?” she asked.

  “Here,” he said. “I’ve got to stay here, Ruby, can’t you see that?”

  She didn’t like it, but perhaps that was the safest thing until she thought of something else. Maybe Straffer would stop straddling the fence and agree to provide cover for Jenner.

  Meanwhile, she had to get hold of Roach. The means of contacting him was complicated and slow. She thought he had covered his tracks too well for an emergency.

  She went to the door.

  “Where you going?” Jenner demanded nervously.

  “I’m going to contact Roach.”

  She went out and said at the door: “I’ll knock three times when I want to come in again.”

  “All right,” he said.

  He locked the door behind her and returned to the bed to sit on it and check his gun. Distantly, he could hear the sound of music in the house. It was strange to think that he was under the same roof as men who were enjoying themselves while he was in mortal fear. He wondered if Roach’s intelligence system had informed him yet of the whereabouts of Malcolm and Spur and the rest. He had left two dead men and a prisoner in the hills. He was sorry to lose Rigbee. The man would have been invaluable now. In Rigbee he had made an enemy. A man couldn’t abandon a wounded man to the enemy without finding himself with yet another enemy. Maybe Rigbee would be bitter enough to talk. Roach would have to take drastic action.

  There were three light taps on the door. Ruby had been quicker than he anticipated. He went to the door, gun in hand and turned the key. The door was flung open violently and he was hurled backward. As he stumbled against the bed, he cocked his gun to fire.

  The man in the doorway said: “Drop it.”

  He saw that it was Spur.

  For one terrible moment, he was tempted to lift his gun and fire. But the temptation passed. He knew that he stared into the black eye of death. He flung the gun down on the bed and stepped away from it.

  Through parched lips, he said: “You can’t get away with this.”

  “I can try,” Spur said. “Walk into the next room. And try somethin’ if you want. I have an awful itch to kill you.”

  On shaking legs, Jenner walked out of the room and into the next one. Spur came in behind him and shoved the chair under the handle again.

  Jenny sat up in bed and said: “What the hell’s this?”

  The top of her body was gloriously naked and her hair was all over the place. In the faint lamplight she looked as if she wore a large and incongruous halo of gold.

  “He’s a guest of ours,” Spur said. “Make yourself respectable. We don’t want to spoil him, do we?”

  She reached for a silk robe and slipped out of bed and into it. She looked at Jenner and then at Spur and his gun.

  “I don’t want any part of him,” she said. “I don’t want any part of any of this.”

  “You don’t mean that,” Spur said. “At heart you’re just a law-abiding home-lovin’ gal.”

  “What’s law-abiding got to do with you?” she asked indignantly.

  “This is legal, Jenny. This man’s under arrest. I’m working under cover for the marshal’s office.”

  She looked really shocked now.

  “You—a spy? Can’t you trust a soul nowadays?”

  “’Fraid not. Just be a good girl and be still. Find me some stockings and we’ll tie this bird up.”

  She made an annoyed sound with her mouth.

  “It’s becoming too much of a habit, using stockings for that. And I never made a cent out of you, my friend.”

  “I paid in kisses.”

  She snorted in disgust, but she found the stockings and gave them to him. He made Jenner lie on the floor and then bound the man hand and foot. When he had gagged him, he rolled him under the bed. He put his head under and told his prisoner: “One sound out of you and I put lead between your eyes.”

  Then he told Jenny to get into bed. When she was there, he climbed in beside her, boots and all, gun in hand.

  She was furious.

  “Now I seen everything,” she said.

  They waited five minutes before they heard Ruby return. The girl went into her own room, then came rushing out. No doubt she had seen the gun lying on the bed. She came into Jenny’s room without knocking and said: “Jenny, have you—?”

  Jenny sat up in bed, showing mad.

  “Get outa here,” she yelled. “Can’t you see I have a friend?”

  Ruby hesitated a moment, then withdrew, slamming the door behind her. She was a very worried young woman, Spur didn’t doubt.

  He climbed out of bed, built a cigarette and lit it.

  He said: “Jenny, you’re a wonderful girl.”

  Marshal George Malcolm brushed the bouncer aside and strode into Straffer’s place. He walked into Straffer in the hall.

  “I’ll see you in your office,” he said brusquely and Straffer stepped into the room without hesitation. He could see the marshal meant business. As he went to close the door, Malcolm said: “Leave it. I want to see who comes and goes. Wait —I can’t see who comes in by the side entrance. Has Roach a key to the side door?”

  “Yes.”

  Malcolm went out into the hall and said to the bouncer: “If Marcus Roach comes in I want to know at once. At once, hear?”

  “Yessir,” said the bouncer. He knew authority when he heard it.

  Back in the office, Malcolm said: “Is Spur here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “In the girl Jenny’s room.”

  “Who’s with Ruby?”

  “I must obj—”

  “Object all you Goddam want, Straffer. I mean business. I just quit fooling around.”

  “Jenner’s there.”

  Malcolm hitched his coat back so his gun was easy to his hand.

  “Stand by for fireworks,” he said. “I’m going to arrest that man.”

  “Not in my place, George.”

  “You try and stop me. And don’t call me George.”

  He walked out of the room and started up the stairs. He saw a man coming down. To his amazement, he saw that it was Jenner. His hand snapped to his gun automatically. Then he looked at the man behind Jenner and saw that it was Sam Spur.

  “What the hell?”

  Spur grinned over Jenner’s shoulder.

  “I arrested him, George,” he said.

  “He’s goin’ to come along an’ have a nice talk.”

  Jenner glowered.

  Malcolm backed down the stairs and the other two came down. Straffer and the bouncer hovered.

  “All right,” said Malcolm, “get him over to the jail. And see he’s still alive when I get there.”

  Spur prodded Jenner toward the street door: “Sorry,” he said, “I can’t promise a thing like that, not even to a friend.”

  The bouncer hurried to open the door and let him out.

  “Now what?” Straffer asked, timidly for him. The bounce seemed to have gone out of him.

  “I go have a talk with Ruby,” said Malcolm.

  Straffer reckoned that would be a noisy affair and he was scared that other clients would be disturbed. This place was being turned into a marshal’s office.

  “For Pete’s sake keep it quiet,” he begged.

  “Time for keeping things quiet is over,” Malcolm informed him. He went up the stairs.

  The man from Santa Fe came out of the salon and demanded to know how long Ruby would be. A man didn’t pay good money to be left hanging around as though he didn’t matter. Straffer explained again that Ruby was having domestic trouble. She wouldn’t be long. The businessman said he’d never heard of a whore with domestic trouble. Straffer protested that all his girls were ladies and he didn’t like that word in his place. The businessman snorted and went back to Colette.

  Upstairs, Malcolm found Ruby’s door locked. He knocked and she demanded to know who it was. He told her and she told him to go to hell. He said if she did
n’t open the door he’d kick it down. She opened the door.

  He walked in and she demanded to know what had happened to a citizen’s rights. He sat himself down and smiled at her.

  “Ruby,” he said, “I’m going to ask you some questions and I’ll stay here all night if necessary to get the answers.”

  “I want my lawyer,” she said.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I’m not accusing you of a thing. All I want is a nice friendly talk.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Ricky left Straffer’s place with a message from Ruby, he went where he was accustomed to going for her. This was a saloon on the other side of the tracks. This part of the town was on the shabby side and still contained many of the original adobe buildings. The saloon was made of this material and wore on its front a faded legend: Lucky Chance Saloon.

  He entered from the rear as he had been instructed long before, walked through the building until he came to a side entrance of the bar itself. Here he stood without a sound till the barkeeper turned his head and noticed him there. The barkeeper came over and Ricky gave him his message.

  The bartender nodded and said: “Okay, kid.” He gave the boy a coin and Ricky went back the way he had come.

  The bartender crossed the large room to where several men were playing cards at a table. He went up to a well-dressed man of about thirty and whispered in his ear. The man flung down his cards and excused himself, went over to the bar with the bartender and listened with lowered head. That done, he walked out of the saloon and walked across town.

  When he reached the governor’s house he was challenged by the sentry and stated that he wished to see Mr. Roach. The sentry called the corporal and the corporal had the message relayed to Mr. Roach. The gentleman hoped that Roach was working late as usual.

  Five minutes later, the corporal handed him over to a manservant and the man led the gentleman through the large house. He stopped before a white door and tapped on it. A voice said: “Come.”

  The gentleman from the saloon stepped inside.

  Marcus Roach was behind his desk. He looked up as his visitor came toward him, waiting until the lamplight fell on him.

  “Well, Walls, what is it?”

  “Jenner, sir. He’s returned to town.”

  “Ah. What does he report? Why didn’t he come himself?”

  “He reports that he didn’t do well. I haven’t the details. Miss Ruby urgently wants to see you.”

  “Did Jenner kill the men he set out to kill.”

  “No, sir. Spur and the others have brought back one prisoner—Pete Offing and they have captured one of the gun hands who was with Jenner. I’m afraid I don’t know any more. Miss Ruby will no doubt be able to tell you.”

  As he had been speaking, Roach had grown paler and paler. When the speaker stopped he rose slowly to his feet, walked to a sideboard and poured himself a drink. He finished it off and faced the man, Walls.

  He looked like a man who had received a profound shock.

  “I’ve been served badly,” he said, “and somebody will pay for it. Where’s Jenner now?”

  “With Miss Ruby.”

  “Walls, I shall need men. Tonight, I shall handle matters myself. How many can you raise?”

  “They will not be cheap.”

  “This isn’t the time to count the cost. Do you realize that all our futures depend upon tonight?”

  “I can raise a dozen men if you need them. But it will depend upon what you need them for.”

  “I intend to raid the jail.”

  Walls looked aghast.

  “Good grief,” he exclaimed. “That’ll really cost you.”

  “Where will you have them and when?”

  “The rear room of the Lucky Chance. One-two hours.”

  “Make it one. And I want hardy men who will stop at nothing, is that understood.”

  “I understand perfectly.”

  “You will report to me at Straffer’s. Have you access there?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Get going then.”

  Mark Walls hurried out. He found that he was trembling with excitement. Roach went across the room and poured himself another drink. Then he sat at the desk and thought. He would have to pull this off tonight, then he would have to get out. Whichever way the cards fell, he wouldn’t lose. That was the kind of game he liked. It showed that he was an intelligent man.

  After a while, he reached for his hat, took a gun from a drawer and slipped it into a pocket and blew out the light. He met Ruth Stirling on the stairs. She looked as beautiful and inaccessible as ever and he hated her for it. He paid her a compliment and she was polite to him for her husband’s sake. Then he was out on the street going by the back ways toward Straffer’s place.

  He let himself in the side entrance and found himself face to face with Ranee Straffer.

  The man looked upset.

  “Good evening, Straffer. Ruby in her room?”

  The question seemed to upset Straffer even more. He hesitated a moment and seemed to make a momentous decision. “She’s there, but she has company.”

  “Oh? Can you get rid of him?”

  “Nobody can,” said Straffer.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Marshal Malcolm’s with her.”

  The reply seemed to act like a slap in the face for Roach. For a moment, he seemed at a loss, then he pulled himself together and said: “I’d like to see George. We’re old friends. He won’t mind me going up a bit.”

  Straffer looked as if he would like to stop him. He had decided to continue to play both sides, but he felt that he had now made a mistake.

  “Would it be wise?” he asked.

  “Wise? Of course, it would be wise,” Roach retorted.

  “Didn’t know old George fancied Ruby. He’s a dark horse.”

  He started up the stairs. Straffer and the bouncer looked at each other helplessly.

  When the tap came on the door, Malcolm whispered to the girl: “Ask who it is?”

  Ruby knew that it was Roach from his knock. If she spoke now, he would be warned that something was wrong. She smiled to herself.

  “Who is this?” she called.

  “Roach,” came the reply.

  “I’m busy, Mr. Roach.”

  “Let him in,” whispered Malcolm. He had no sooner done so than outside the door, Roach said: “Let me in, Ruby, I have to see you.”

  The girl gave Malcolm a startled glance. She didn’t know what to make of it. But Roach was no fool and if he said let him in he meant it. He must know that the marshal was here.

  She went to the door, turned the key and opened it.

  Roach walked in. He stopped and looked at Malcolm.

  “Why, George, how nice to see you.”

  Malcolm went to say something when Roach revealed the fact that his right hand held a gun.

  Malcolm didn’t lose his calm, which did him great credit, for the look in Roach’s eyes was murderous.

  “His gun, my dear,” Roach said.

  Ruby took the gun and stood holding it.

  “You’ve made some mistakes already, Roach,” Malcolm said. “This is your big one. You’re finished.”

  Roach smiled a prim, tiny-mouthed smile.

  “You’re my guarantee of survival,” he said. He backed to the door and locked it.

  Spur pounded on the courthouse door.

  From near knee-level about twenty paces away a voice called: “That you, Sam?”

  There was Ben with a shotgun poked out of the basement window. Spur thought it was the worst planned jail he had ever seen. It would take some holding if trouble came.

  “Yes, it’s me, Ben. Open up, I’ve got another guest.”

  A few minutes later, the door opened and Spur ushered Jenner in. Ben locked and barred the door behind him and they trooped down into the cell area. The faces of Pete Offing and Dude Rigbee appeared at the grills of the cell doors. Spur shoved Jenner into a cell and l
ocked the door behind him.

  “What now?” asked Ben.

  Spur looked around. The Kid was at the end of the cell area, lying on a cot with a shotgun at his side. Josh White, the old jailer, sat at a table playing patience by lamplight. It wasn’t much to hold the whole courthouse with, but it would have to do.

  “We start with Offing,” Spur said. “We make him talk and we make him talk quickly and loud so Jenner can hear. We want Roach’s name.”

  “How do we do it?”

  Spur grinned.

  “I don’t have to tell you that.”

  Ben showed his teeth. He went to Offing’s cell and opened the door. He fetched a lamp and set it on the floor of Offing’s cell. Then he said something in a low voice.

  Offing yelled: “Jesus, Spur, you ain’t goin’ to let this nigger loose on me.”

  Spur said: “Josh, you don’t hear none of this. Except when Pete starts to tell us about Jenner. All right?”

  “Yes, siree,” said old Josh and went on with his cards.

  Ben disappeared inside the cell. Pete Offing screamed.

  Ben said: “Just talk, Pete.”

  Spur brought paper and pencil and sat himself down on a chair just outside the cell. He couldn’t see too well in the lamplight, but he would get by. Pete talked for fifteen minutes solid. Spur wrote down a brief account of what he said. When Pete lay back on his cot exhausted, Spur walked into the cell and said: “Read that an’ sign it, Pete.”

  Pete read it laboriously and signed.

  Spur laid the confession on the table by Josh and went to Jenner’s cell. He opened the door and walked in. Jenner was sitting on the edge of his cot. Ben came in with a lamp and laid it on the floor. Jenner looked sick with fright.

  Ben drew his knife and grinned.

  Jenner held out a hand in front of him as if to fend the Negro off and said: “No —no, for God’s sake.”

  Spur said: “You heard Pete. He sang it all sweetly. You can maybe halve your sentence if you talk.”

  “It wouldn’t pay me,” Jenner said. “I’ve got more to lose if I talk than if I don’t.”

  “Add Ben’s knife to the account if you don’t,” Spur said. Malcolm would have a fit if he knew they were doing it this way. But then Malcolm wasn’t an outlaw. Depended on how you looked at things.