Payback at Big Silver

by Ralph Cotton

  “Son of a . . .” Harper’s words trailed.

  “Empty,” Bartow said. He looked up from the gun and over at Stone. “Empty . . . ?” he repeated. “What kind of sheriff are you?” he said skeptically.

  “Shut up, Lon! Get this door open,” Harper ordered. “He’ll have bullets in his desk.” He and Sheriff Stone stared hard at each other. “You’re still dead, law dog,” Harper said. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  Bartow stuck the key into the lock and twisted it. But it stopped short and refused to turn all the way.

  “Come on, Lon!” said Harper, hurrying him.

  “It’s stuck!” said Bartow, getting nervous, tense. He twisted the key back and forth madly. Nothing! He jerked the key from the lock and inside the cell. He inspected it.

  “Give it here, Lon! Damn it!” Harper raged. He stuck Stone’s Colt into his waist and yanked the cell key from Bartow’s hand. Bartow watched as he twisted the key wildly back and forth, getting nowhere. Stone watched too, something dawning on him as he did so. The Ranger’s words came to mind.

  “When you figure how to get yourself loose, your gun is here waiting for you. By then you’ll know I’m right.”

  “Dang you, Ranger,” he murmured to himself as the two prisoners dropped their arms to their sides and stood slumped, staring at him. He patted a hand on his shirt pocket and felt the metal object there. He fished his fingers down beside his half bag of tobacco and his near-empty cough drop paper.

  The key. . . .

  He almost felt like laughing, but it wasn’t funny, he told himself. He pulled the handcuff key from his shirt pocket and turned to his fettered wrist. The prisoners watched, puzzled, silent. He felt his face redden; he felt like saying something, but there was no one to say it to. As he turned the small key and let the cuff drop from his wrist, he looked out the window’s gun port and saw the Ranger walking back from the Silver Palace.

  Harper and Bartow watched the sheriff rub his freed wrist as he walked over to his badly tilted desk and jerked a drawer open. He gave them a knowing look and took out a box of bullets and set it down hard atop the oak surface. In silence he turned and walked to the cell. Without a word he looked at Harper and held out his upturned palm.

  Harper pulled the Colt up from his waist, reached through the bars and laid it on Stone’s hand. Behind Stone a hard, jarring crash caused him to spin around with the gun up even though it was empty. He saw his desk leaning forward now, the leg on the other corner having just broken off. He watched items slide off the desktop and plop one after the other onto the floor. The unopened box of bullets slid off into his chair. Stone turned back to the cell and yanked the key from the lock where Harper had left it. He looked it over, recognizing it as the key to the barred door of the ill-fated jail wagon.

  “Figures,” he said aloud to himself, pitching the key over onto his desk chair with the box of bullets.

  • • •

  When the Ranger stepped inside the office, Stone had just finished loading his big Colt. He stood leaning back against the edge of the tilted desk, the gun still in his hand. Sam slowed a step, his rifle in hand. He noted the short broken desk legs on the floor, the wanted posters, letters, other items.

  “Are we all right?” he asked. He stepped on inside and reached back and closed the door.

  “I don’t know how I fell for it.” Stone chuffed and shook his head. “Yeah, we’re all right. I couldn’t have looked at Edsel Centrila without blowing his head off.” He paused, then said, “I heard a rifle shot?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. He picked up the box of bullets and the key from the chair and slumped down into the chair. “A gunman by the name of Bob Remick decided to hurrah everything. I saw it as a good chance to whittle the odds down some.” He looked at the two prisoners seated on the remaining unbroken cot looking out at them. Standing up, he nodded Stone toward the shuttered front window. Stone straightened and followed him, closing the loading gate on his Colt and holstering it.

  “How does it stand with Mae Rose?” he asked. The slightest tension in his lowered voice told the Ranger the woman was his main concern, and rightly so.

  “They’re bringing her to us,” Sam said in the same lowered voice, rolling a glance out the gun port now and then toward the Silver Palace.

  “What? They’re bringing her to us?” Stone said, surprise in his lowered voice.

  “Yep,” Sam said. “Should be here in just a few minutes. Soon as Edsel figures how he can get what he wants and still manage to kill you.” He pulled up a fresh rifle round from his pocket and shoved it into the Winchester, replacing the one he’d used on Remick.

  “So you did make a trade with him?” Stone asked again.

  “Not exactly,” Sam said. He switched the subject. “I had to do what I did to you, the handcuffs . . . ,” he said. “Edsel would never have dealt with you.”

  “I know,” Stone said, “I saw Lyle Cady ride up and check on me. Anyway, you told me that before you left. I wasn’t seeing this thing coolly enough to go face-to-face with a man holding Mae Rose. If he’s bringing her to us, it looks like you was.” He took a deep breath. “I’m obliged, Ranger. I owe you a lot for how you’ve done this. As wild-eyed as I was, I’d have likely got us both killed, and Mae Rose too.”

  “It’s not done yet, Sheriff,” Sam warned. “There’s still some twists and turns ahead of us.”

  “What are you saying, Ranger?”

  “Edsel knows Mae Rose is your gal,” Sam said. He studied the sheriff’s face and asked, “How hard was it to get her to tell him that?”

  Stone winced a little. His anger flared in his eyes.

  “I’ll kill that lousy, rotten—!” He caught himself and stopped. He took out a cough drop with trembling fingers and stuck it into his mouth. “All right, at least she’s alive,” he said. He took another deep breath and calmed himself down. “I’m all right. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  “I don’t want you to do anything, except to cover me from inside here,” Sam said.

  “Huh-uh,” Stone said. “If shooting starts I want to be right out there with you. I can handle my end. You ought to know that by now.”

  “I do know it, Sheriff,” Sam said. “But I need you in here, covering me from the window.”

  “What about when you make the trade?” Stone said. “What if Edsel crawfishes at the last minute, keeps Mae Rose just to spite me? Don’t put it past him, Ranger,” he cautioned.

  Sam let out a patient breath.

  “Listen to me, Sheriff,” he said. “I don’t put anything past Edsel Centrila. I can’t count on anything he says. That’s why it’s important that I can count on us. He told me Mae Rose hasn’t been harmed. I don’t believe him. I’m prepared for what she might look like. Are you?”

  Sheriff Stone didn’t reply, which the Ranger took as a reply in itself.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said flatly. “That’s another reason I want you in here, instead of out there.”

  Stone glanced out the gun port toward the Palace.

  “They’re forming up, Ranger,” he said. He barely saw Mae Rose standing beside Centrila in a long cape, hood up so her face was hidden.

  “What’s it going to be, Sheriff?” Sam asked. “If you want the woman back alive, I’m going to need you right here by this window, just like you’re still cuffed to the shutter.”

  “All right, you’ve got it,” Stone said. They both looked over at the cell and saw Harper Centrila and Lon Bartow back on their feet, as if sensing trouble in the making.

  “Give me your word that you won’t come charging through this door if the woman’s been badly beaten,” Sam insisted.

  Stone glanced out the gun port again, then at Sam, and said in a resolved tone of voice, “All right, you’ve got my word on it, Ranger.”

  The Ranger nodded; he held the box of bul
lets out for Stone.

  “Here, you might need these,” he said.

  They shared a look, then peered out the gun port at the Silver Palace. They saw Lyle and Ignacio Cady step down from the boardwalk with the woman between them. Ahead of them Edsel Centrila stood with Charlie Knapp, Silas Rudabaugh, Don Ferry and Trent Baye gathered around him. A few drinkers who had ventured to the saloon in spite of the impending trouble stood inside and stared out through the open doors at Centrila and his men.

  Chapter 24

  “As soon as we make the swap and Harper is safe, chop this Ranger down where he’s standing,” Centrila said. “Leave this lousy wolf-turning Sheriff Stone for me.” He paused, seeming to consider the matter, then added, “That is, if it looks like I’m coming out ahead. If I get in trouble, blast him, of course.”

  “In other words, remember who pays your wages,” Knapp put in quietly. The men looked at each other and nodded in agreement. They understood.

  Knapp said just between him and Centrila, “What if Stone is still cuffed, like the Ranger said?”

  Centrila gave a thin, faint grin.

  “That would be his misfortune,” he said. Staring toward the sheriff’s office, he added, “Besides, I’ve got a feeling he’s not cuffed. That was just a ruse the Ranger came up with.” He looked Knapp up and down. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Knapp said, Rudabaugh right beside him.

  “Let’s go, then,” Centrila said, staring straight ahead at the sheriff’s office.

  The gunmen walked forward, the Cady brothers and Mae Rose a step behind. Each of the brothers kept a hand on Mae Rose’s arm. On Centrila’s right Knapp held a cocked rifle at port arms.

  As they neared the front of the adobe-and-plank structure, Knapp gave Ferry and Baye a nod, telling them to spread out. The group of gunmen formed a half circle in the street in front of the sheriff’s office with Centrila in the middle. The big erstwhile cattleman turned saloon owner pulled his suit coat back behind a shiny nickel-plated Remington holstered on his right hip. But before he called out, the Ranger opened the door slowly and stepped out onto the boardwalk.

  “Here we are, Ranger,” Centrila said, “as agreed to.” As he spoke he noted that the Ranger’s Winchester had been replaced by a short double-barreled shotgun he’d taken from the gun rack. “Now bring out my son and Bartow.”

  The Ranger only stared at him. He gestured at the woman, the hood of the cape partially hiding her face.

  “Let me see if she’s Mae Rose Rossi,” Sam said.

  Edsel reached around and pulled the woman up beside him; the Cadys let go of her arms. He pulled back the hood and revealed a swollen, badly beaten face that rouge and powder had done a poor job concealing.

  The Ranger saw the damage and almost tightened his finger on the shotgun hammers, expecting Stone to throw open the door and shoot Centrila on the spot. After a second passed, he lightened his finger on the triggers, grateful that Stone was a man of his word.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” Sam asked.

  “I’ve . . . been better,” Mae Rose said through cracked and swollen lips.

  “You lied,” the Ranger said to Centrila, looking away from the battered woman’s face.

  Centrila pulled the hood back up onto Mae Rose’s head and gave a smug grin.

  “I might have lied a little,” he said. “You can expect some of that when it comes to deal-making, eh—am I right?” Still grinning, he looked around at his men for support. They nodded, agreeing with him. “After all, I understand that Harper has a bullet wound in his shoulder.”

  “All right,” Sam said, as if conceding the matter. He gestured toward the front door. “Send her on in.” As he spoke he rested a hand on the door handle.

  The Cadys stepped in to take the woman’s arms, but Centrila stopped them.

  “Wait a minute, what about Harper and Bartow?” he said to Sam.

  “I take her in, I bring them out,” Sam said.

  “Huh-uh, I don’t like that,” said Centrila.

  “Then we’re back where we started,” Sam said coolly, his hand still on the door handle. “I see I’m outgunned. I get the woman inside, or you can all go back to your saloon and I’ll send Harper and Bartow to you tied over their saddles. I shot him once, I can shoot him again.”

  “Why, you no-good law dog . . .” Centrila caught himself and let his words trail.

  “Easy, boss. I smell a trick in the works here,” Knapp said beside him.

  “I say we start shooting,” Trent Baye put in, giving the Ranger a hard, searing stare. “This cur killed my cousin—”

  “Shut up, both of you!” Centrila snapped, trying to get a grip on the situation. “It’s not your son in there!” He reached over and pulled the woman forward. “All right, take her inside,” he said to the Cadys. “Come out of there with Harper and Lon Bartow, or I will have your hides!”

  Have their hides?

  The Cady brothers looked at each other, the two of them on the spot all of a sudden. Lyle started to say something, but the look on Centrila’s face warned him against it. The two stepped onto the boardwalk and toward the door, the woman between them. Sam turned the door handle, ushered them in, then stepped inside behind them and closed the door.

  • • •

  Harper Centrila and Lon Bartow stood pressed against the bars watching intently, awaiting their release. They saw the Ranger drop a thick iron latch on the door, grab Lyle Cady and shove the short-barreled shotgun into his belly. In reflex Lyle turned the woman loose. She hurried away and huddled against the wall. Ignacio Cady raised his hands chest high, not wanting to see his brother cut in half by a shotgun blast.

  “Don’t shoot, Ranger!” he shouted.

  “It’s a double cross, Papa Edsel!” Harper shouted toward the front window. “Get me out of here!”

  “Sheriff?” Sam called out. “Sheriff Stone . . . ?” Looking all around quickly, seeing no sign of the sheriff, he lifted both Lyle’s and Ignacio’s guns from their holsters and pitched them away. He shoved the brothers across the office, back against the cell and cuffed them to the barred door. “Stay back,” he warned Harper and Bartow as they tried to move closer, Harper still shouting to his father on the street. Sam heard fists pounding hard on the front door. He looked around once more for Stone, but the sheriff was gone.

  “Get away from that door,” Sam warned, bracing the shotgun at his side. But the pounding continued a second longer until he heard Stone call out from the street.

  “Here I am, Edsel Centrila,” the sheriff shouted, from somewhere farther back behind the gunmen.

  Hearing the sheriff, Mae Rose started to move away from the wall. But the Ranger raised a hand, stopping her as he hurried to the shuttered front window.

  “Stay where you are,” he said to her. He looked out through the gun port and saw Sheriff Stone facing off with the gunmen, no rifle, no shotgun, only his big Colt hanging in his hand.

  “Here I am, Edsel,” Stone repeated, “you son of a bitch. I’m the one you came here for. Stop beating around the bush—let’s start killing, just you and me!”

  A tight tense silence fell over the street.

  “That will suit me fine!” Centrila called out. He walked off the boardwalk back onto the dirt street, seeming to forget that his son, Harper, was still in the cell.

  “Papa Edsel! Get me the hell out of here!” Harper shouted. He shook the bars with both hands. The Cady brothers stood helpless, one set of handcuffs looped through the bars, holding each of them by their wrists.

  Sam saw the gunmen spread out toward the sheriff.

  “Stone, you fool,” he said under his breath.

  “Ranger, stop him!” Mae Rose shouted, knowing what was about to happen out there.

  Without replying, Sam hurried to the door, threw the latch back and swung the door open.

&nb
sp; The gunmen looked at him; so did Centrila, who cut his gaze to the Ranger for a quick glance, then back to Stone.

  “Stay out of this, Ranger, you double-crossing cur,” he warned.

  Sam looked at Stone, then at Ferry, Knapp, Rudabaugh and Trent Baye, the four of them ready to kill the lone lawman at Centrila’s command.

  “Not a chance,” he said.

  “You don’t belong here. Damn you, Ranger!” Centrila shouted, still facing Stone.

  Sam gripped the shotgun, ready to fire.

  “I’m the law, Centrila,” he called out. “You two have a grudge to settle, I’m right in the middle of it.”

  “Then to hell with the law!” shouted Centrila.

  “This is for cousin Bob, Ranger!” Trent Baye shouted suddenly out of the blue. He swung his rifle toward the Ranger as Centrila made his move on Stone. But before he got off a shot, the shotgun bucked in the Ranger’s hands, sending a blue-orange streak of smoke and iron scraps through Baye’s chest, his face, both shoulders.

  Baye’s hat flew from his head in a bloody spray of shredded felt and pieces of skull and brain matter. Wasting no time, the Ranger swung the loaded barrel at Charlie Knapp. But Knapp and Rudabaugh had seen the mess the shotgun had made of Baye. They dived for the cover of a water trough.

  Centrila’s shot hit Stone in his collarbone and sent the sheriff staggering backward, a shot from his big Colt firing down into the dirt. Making the mistake of thinking he’d killed Stone, Centrila swung his aim toward the Ranger, levering a fresh round into his rifle chamber.

  Sam threw the shotgun aside and drew his Colt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rudabaugh and Knapp, upon seeing him toss the shotgun away, rise from the water trough and start firing. Sam had to ignore Centrila for now.

  “Kill him!” Rudabaugh shouted.

  Crouched, the Ranger fired his Colt at Rudabaugh and saw him fall backward as a bullet sliced through his stomach. On his way down, Rudabaugh’s rifle flew from his hands. The rifle hit Knapp and sent Knapp’s shot flying wild. Before Knapp could recover and reaim, Sam put a bullet in his chest and saw him fall backward. As Knapp fell, Sam saw the front door fly open. Mae Rose ran out toward the fallen sheriff.