Trail West (A Sam Spur Western Book 6)

by Matt Chisholm

  “You mark me,” Jenner said, “and it’ll come out in court.” His eyes were wild. He took their threat at its face value. “I’ll talk to the judge then. You’ll never get away with it.”

  Spur said: “You know any other way to hurt him, Ben. Some way that don’t leave a mark.”

  Ben nodded professionally and said: “Sure. Oldest trick in the world. I could beat this bastard to death without leavin’ no mark a-tall.”

  “Go ahead,” said Spur. “Jenner, I didn’t know you was stupid. What do you have to gain. By dawn Roach'll be behind bars. He can’t help you.”

  “Roach?” said Jenner. “What has he to do with this?”

  Ben said: “Don’ waste time, Sam boy. Leave me get to work. I’ll have him talkin’ or dead within minutes.”

  “Dead?” Jenner screamed. “You can’t get away with that.”

  “Why not?” asked Spur. “You tried to escape. We have plenty of witnesses.”

  “You daren’t do it,” the man cried. “You’re wanted men.”

  “Then we don’t have nothin’ to lose.”

  He looked at them. He saw they meant it. He tried another tack.

  “You can’t get me for murder. I never had a hand in the killing of Wayne Ulster,” he said.

  “No, but you rode against us and helped kill Strange. You tried to kill Pete Offing. Pete’s named you.”

  “Nobody would believe a word he said.”

  “They’d believe George Malcolm. He saw you in the hills. George’ll finish you, Jenner.”

  Jenner knew that was true. He wrung his hands and bared his teeth in an ugly grin of desperation.

  “I only took orders,” he said. “I was nothing more than a middleman.”

  Spur fetched his paper and pencil. He would have a statement inside a few minutes now. He felt a sensation of enormous relief. He came back and sat with his back against the cell wall, the tablet of paper balanced on his knee.

  “You say you was a middleman,” Spur said. “What was you in between?”

  “You know,” Jenner shouted. “I don’t have to tell you.”

  “You have to tell us. Whose orders did you pass on?”

  “Roach’s,” Jenner burst out with. “You know it was Roach.”

  Sam wrote carefully. Then asked: “Who did you pass his orders on to?”

  The questions and answers went on for fifteen minutes or more. Spur was surprised that it was so easy. When he thought he had enough to go on with he pushed the paper and pencil into Jenner’s shaking hands and told him to sign.

  The man hesitated and looked up at him. His face was white and he was sweating. He was like a man with a death-sentence passed on him. He put the pencil to the paper and signed. Spur took them from him and gestured to Ben. They left the cell and locked the door.

  Spur said: “That’s that. Wonder where George is so we can tell him the good news.”

  As if in answer to his question, there came a heavy pounding on the main door of the courthouse. The sound reverberated through the building. They looked at each other.

  “Maybe it’s Jim Dutton,” Ben said.

  Spur picked up a shotgun and walked along the corridor to a window. He craned his neck and saw a man standing at the door above him.

  “Who’re you?” he called.

  The man started, searched around for him and located him in the starlight. He walked down the steps and came to the window.

  He was a tall, well-dressed man. He said: “It doesn’t matter who I am. I have a message for you.”

  “Who from?”

  “That doesn’t matter either.”

  “Let’s hear it.” He had the shotgun pointed at the man’s belly and the fellow didn’t like it. He knew he was talking to Sam Spur and knew that Spur would kill him as soon as look at him. It didn’t help a man’s confidence.

  “We have George Malcolm.”

  Spur said: “So Roach is that desperate.”

  “I don’t know why you should mention that name,” the man said. “We’re friends of the men you have inside there. We want them out, both Offing and Rigbee.”

  “If you don’t get ’em?”

  “We kill Malcolm. It’s as simple as that.”

  “That’ll get you nowhere. We still have Offing and Rigbee.”

  “You wouldn’t let the marshal die.”

  “Who says I wouldn’t? Any road how do I know you have the marshal?”

  The man turned and pointed across the street. The window of Ruby’s room was above the door. It was lit with lamps. The man in the window was well illuminated. It was George Malcolm all right.

  Spur felt a little sick and defeated.

  Malcolm yelled at the top of his voice: “Don’t let ’em go, Sam.” Somebody hit him and he disappeared from view. The curtains were dropped and the light disappeared.

  The man said: “What’s it to be?”

  “I have to think. Maybe I’ll come over an’ dicker,” Spur said.

  “Make it quick,” the man told him, “and come without a gun. We have to have all this settled before dawn. Just bear in mind that we have a small army here. The courthouse is surrounded. I’ll give you fifteen minutes. If we don’t have an answer in that time, we kill Malcolm and then we blast you out of there. Use your sense. For the sake of two no-good gun hands you can save a lot of lives.”

  Spur smiled and said: “You’re very persuasive.”

  “I hope so,” said the man and turned and walked away. The door of Straffer’s place opened and he stepped inside.

  Spur left the window and stood thinking. So Straffer had finally decided what side of the fence he was on. Then the thought hit him—Maybe Roach himself was at Straffer’s. The message showed that the man was desperate. It could be that he was tired of having his affairs muddled and was taking a direct hand in them now. After all this must be the last desperate throw.

  He walked back into the cell area.

  “Ben,” he said, “they’ve got George an’ they’re goin’ to kill him if we don’t hand Pete and Rigbee over.”

  They talked about it. Ben was emphatic. If they gave in to Roach, he would kill them all. He had to. Ben was right. Spur didn’t doubt that.

  All right, he thought, there was only one thing to do. He had to go over there and play it by ear. Without a gun. His life wouldn’t be worth a cent. He asked himself if it was worth that amount if he didn’t pull this off. He would continue being an outlaw. If he succeeded he could lead a free life, marry, have a cow-outfit of his own. He reckoned it was a gamble worth taking. Beside all that, George Malcolm was a friend of his and trusted him. He owed him.

  He unbuckled his gun belt and laid it on the table in front of Josh.

  Josh said grumpily: “You mussed my cards.”

  “Sorry, Josh,” Spur said.

  “You ain’t goin’ to do it,” Ben said. “I ain’t goin’ to let you.”

  Spur said: “Use your head, Ben. We can pull it off. Listen, there’s a rear entrance to Straffer’s. Now this is the way I see it.” He talked for a few minutes.

  Reluctantly, Ben said: “All right, I’ll do it. But I’m damned if’n I likes it.”

  Spur said: “Kid, you an’ Josh’re on your lonesome. Anybody gets at these prisoners an’ I’ll have your hide.”

  The Kid grinned and said: “If they get ’em I’ll hand it to you on a silver platter.”

  “Good boy.”

  Spur drew his knife and tossed it on the table. Then he walked up the stairs to the street door with Ben behind him. Ben unlocked and unbarred it. Spur stepped outside.

  Ben said: “Luck.”

  “See you.”

  He walked down the steps and angled across the street. When he drew near Straffer’s place he saw that one of the lower windows was open and there was a man with a rifle in it.

  The man said: “Hold it right there, Spur.”

  Spur halted. The man demanded: “You got a weapon of any kind?” and Spur told him: “No.”

>   The man shouted and the door was opened. Spur stepped inside and found there were three or four armed men in the hall. He didn’t know any of them. Then he saw Straffer hovering. The man was scared.

  “So you decided, Straffer,” Spur said. The man looked sick.

  One of the men said: “Upstairs, Spur.” Spur went up the stairs with a man behind him with a gun in his hand. He turned right at the head of the stairs and passed Jenny’s door. It was open and the girl stood in the doorway. She gave him a helpless look and he thought the girl would have helped if she could. It was little things like that which were worth remembering.

  He stopped at the door of Ruby’s room. The man behind him said: “Go ahead.” Spur opened the door and went in. There were four men in there. George Malcolm sat on the bed. He had the defeated look of a man caught in a trap. Which was what he was. The man who took Spur’s attention was a dapperly dressed man with a tiny mouth. Spur knew at once that this man was in command. He guessed that he was Roach, but he would have liked the guess confirmed. The third man was the one who had brought Roach’s message to the courthouse. The butt of a gun showed in the opening of his coat near his left armpit. Although he didn’t know it, the other man was Lon Harper. All Spur knew was that the man was a gun handler. He had it written all over him. Spur could guess that he was mean, hard and fast. If Spur managed to do anything, this was the first man who had to be disposed of.

  There was also a woman present. This was Ruby. Her face was grim. She wasn’t scared, but just the same there was an apprehensive look about her. This was a woman who saw her world crumpling about her. She was as dangerous or more dangerous than a man.

  Roach pursed his tiny lips and said: “You’re the great Sam Spur, are you? Well, Spur, you’re not doing any good by coming here. I want your three prisoners and now I’ve got you as well. That suits me.

  “As simple as that,” Spur said.

  “As simple as that,” Roach agreed.

  “Well, it ain’t,” Spur said. “Offing and Rigbee and Jenner have talked. There’s a warrant out for your arrest. All the information about you has been laid before the governor.”

  That shook Roach at first. Then he recovered himself.

  “You’re lying,” he said.

  “I’ll tell you something else,” Spur said. “Every deputy marshal in the territory has been called in and they’ll be here by dawn. The army has been alerted.” While he was telling a lie, he might as well make it a big one. People believed big ones easier than small ones.

  Roach made a sound of impatience.

  “Take him away,” he snapped.

  Lon Harper said: “Do I kill him?”

  “Certainly. Wall, you go over to the jail and tell them there that the time is up. We get the prisoners or Spur and the marshal die.”

  Malcolm said like a man whose patience is tried to the utmost: “Can’t you see, Roach, that all this is wasted? You can’t get away with it.”

  “We’ll see,” Roach said. He jerked his head to Harper.

  Harper started to reach for his gun.

  Spur moved.

  He jumped for Wall and in one movement tore the gun from the man’s holster and spun him around so that he himself was covered.

  Harper hastened his draw, automatically brought his gun up and fired.

  Spur felt the heavy slug hit the man in front of him. He cocked the gun in his hand and fired. The bullet caught Harper in the head and threw him dead back against the wall.

  In the same instant, Malcolm launched himself. He dove straight off the bed, flung his arms around Roach’s legs and brought him down with a crash on the floor.

  The woman screamed and ran for the door, wrenched it open and ran out of sight.

  The man outside showed for a moment in the doorway, gun in hand, face alarmed.

  Spur fired.

  The man weaved from view. Shouts came from downstairs. Roach was on his feet, his face wild. Before Spur knew what was happening the man had run into him. He lost his balance and fell back across the bed. Roach had a gun in his hand. As Malcolm started to get up, Roach hit him across the head with the barrel of the gun. The marshal cried out and went down.

  Spur fired.

  Roach shrieked out and fell to the floor. Spur knew that he had shot him in the gun-arm. This man was going to live to stand trial.

  On his hands and knees, the marshal cried: “Stop ’em coming up the stairs.”

  Spur ran for the door. He knew he didn’t have many shots in the gun. As he came in sight of the stairs, a man charged up them two at a time. Spur fired. The man turned around and fell headlong. There must have been men behind him. There was a terrible racket and men cursed.

  Spur ran back into Ruby’s room and picked up Harper’s gun. Roach lay on the floor whimpering. Spur unbuckled Harper’s gun belt and took it with him out onto the landing. He could hear men conferring down below. He knew that Ben couldn’t have reached the rear of the house yet. He looked up and saw Jenny’s frightened face.

  “Get back under cover,” he said and the girl disappeared.

  Spur called out: “You men can get out of here. Roach is under arrest, Harper and Wall’re dead.”

  A man’s voice bellowed back: “We got you, Spur. You can’t get outa here.”

  Spur called back: “Play it that way if you want. It only means more men will die.”

  There was silence. The air was full of the smell of burned powder. How long was Ben going to be? Once he arrived, there wouldn’t be any playing around. The Negro would start with the shotgun and then it would be all over.

  Five minutes passed.

  Suddenly, there was a loud crash. Spur knew that somebody was kicking a door in. He prayed that it was Ben. One of the men downstairs fired a gun. Spur ran to the head of the stairs, flung himself flat and started shooting down into the hall. Men fired back at him. The air was full of flying lead and splinters of wood where bullets hit the stair rail.

  Then there came a deafening roar.

  Spur knew that was a greener. Ben was here.

  There was a violent scramble of movement from downstairs. A man was shrieking that he was killed. The shotgun thundered again. Somebody was yelling for quarter, another had the street door open and was bolting. A rifle opened up from across the street from the direction of the courthouse and Spur guessed that was the Kid.

  The din didn’t seem to last more than a few seconds.

  Then Ben’s black face appeared. It was shining with sweat and he was grinning an uncertain grin. He looked up at Spur and said: “That’s that, I reckon.”

  He walked up the stairs.

  Spur turned and walked back into Ruby’s room. Roach was sitting on the bed holding his injured arm and weeping.

  George Malcolm said: “This makes you a free man, Sam.”

  Spur nodded.

  “A pretty expensive pardon,” he said.

  He looked at the two dead men and Malcolm said to Roach: “On your feet, Roach. We’ll take a short walk.”

  They walked down the stairs with Roach in their midst and there they saw the terrible shambles Ben’s shotgun had made. Straffer and the bouncer came out of the office and despaired. There were two dead men there and three wounded.

  As he passed Straffer, Malcolm said: “Better find a buyer, Ranee. You’re finished here.”

  They walked out onto the street. The first light of dawn was showing. As they approached the courthouse the door opened and the Kid stood there with a shotgun in his hands. He leaned weakly against the door-jamb and grinned at them.

  Spur said: “You’d best start thinkin’ like an honest man, Kid.”

  They walked down the stairs and pushed the weeping prisoner into a cell.

  George Malcolm said: “I can usually find a little sympathy for anybody I take. But I can’t find a grain for this one.” They all felt the same way.

  John T. Stirling stood by his desk, looking every inch a governor. Nobody would have ever known that he had had the
biggest fright and shock of his life a few hours before. He had the ebullience of his trade. He shook their hands and smiled, proclaimed how proud he was, etc., etc. They nodded and grinned. They heard they were free men. They walked away from the house into the startling sunlight. They stopped and looked at each other, wanting to know if they looked any different now they were free men.

  Spur reckoned they didn’t. The Kid still looked like the Cimarron Kid and Cuzie Ben looked like a wild horse hunter the law wanted.

  George Malcolm said: “Boys, I can’t thank you. But any time you need help… Spur, I’m offering you a job as first deputy.”

  Spur looked aghast.

  “Maybe I’m on the side of the angels now,” he said. “But this is ridiculous.”

  “I can use you, Sam.”

  Ben said: “Go ahead, Sam, we just know you’s a lawman at heart.”

  “All right,” said Spur. “I’ll give it a whirl. How about you two?”

  The Kid said: “Me an’ Ben’re goin’ to start a horse outfit in the hills. Ben says he saw plenty sign up there.”

  “All right,” said Spur, “but right now I reckon we could all do with a drink and some grub.”

  George Malcolm grinned.

  “Let’s go over to Straffer’s place. Nothing but the best.”

  They laughed at that and headed along the street.

  The Sam Spur Series

  1: The Gun is My Brother

  2: Man in the Saddle

  3: Spur

  4: Longhorn

  5: The Cimarron Kid

  6: Trail West

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