They walked to the station. The train whistled again, still far off. Josh reached into his pocket. "By the way, this letter was in your box at the hotel. I seen it there after we checked the clerk's body ... You know, Dandy Drako? I figured you'd be wantin' it."
Shanaghy glanced at it. He recognized the handwriting. The letter was from John Morrissey. But there was no time to read it now. That could wait for a more leisurely time. He put the letter in his shirt pocket.
For the first time he took a look at himself. His shirt was badly torn. His face felt stiff and sore from several punches he had taken. He did not even remember them. You never did, at times like that, except maybe the very hard ones.
The train was coming down the track and the agent came out to the platform. He looked at them, stopped and started to go back inside.
"Don't do it," Shanaghy said in a conversational tone of voice.
The agent looked at him. His tongue touched his lips. He was trying to make up his mind, and Tom Shanaghy was remembering that the man had a gun ... probably back inside.
"He means it, Burt," Josh Lundy said. "If I were you I wouldn't try."
"What's wrong? I don't know what's going on."
"You just come with us. You'll learn."
"Come with you? Leave my post, here? I can't do that, and you can't make me. I-"
"You won't be gone long, not this time." Shanaghy smiled "Someday we will have to sit down and you can tell me about your sister. She's an interesting lady."
"Helen? You mean Mrs. Carpenter?"
"I do."
"I've no idea what you're talking about, Marshal. Look, I've got to go in there and clear some messages and also let them know this train's gone through."
"Later. Right now we're just going down the track a little ways to meet some of your friends. If they haven't discovered the double-cross you two have pulled off, they'll be wanting to load those boxes off the pack animals they have. If they have discovered the cross, they'll be hunting you and your sister."
Burt's face had taken on a sickly expression. "Marshal, I don't know what you're talking about."
"You do know." Shanaghy watched the train pull in. "Search him and take him aboard," he told Josh. "I'll just walk along and check the engineer."
The engineer was a different man from before, a burly fellov* with white hair and a florid face.
"My name is Shanaghy," Tom said, "and I'm marshal here There's been a little trouble and some of us are going to rid' down the track with you. About thirty miles down the track there will be some men waiting at that little way station, some men and probably one woman. Stop the train and then get down on the floor. There may be a little lead flying."
Once seated on the train, Shanaghy looked over at Josh. "Tell me what you see as we come up to the station," he suggested. "I want to have a little talk with Burt, here." Tom glanced over at Judge McBane. "Judge? Would you like to join me? Maybe if we can ask this man the right questions we can keep him alive."
"Keep me alive?" Burt started up and Shanaghy pushed him back down into his seat. "What do you mean?"
Shanaghy smiled. "Now, see here! You and your sister double-crossed your partners. You don't expect them to like it, do you? You've been playing with some pretty rough company, Burt, and now that the bottom has fallen out of your plans, they are going to think it was you ... they will know it was you.
"They will be waiting at the station right ahead of us, but if you talk fast and give us everything you know we may be able to save you."
"I don't need to be saved!" Burt protested. "I've nothing to-"
"Then you won't mind getting off at the next station to meet George and Pin? They'll be there, you know."
"The train's not stopping," Burt protested. "You can't pull that on me. I sent the orders."
"Of course, you did. I just changed them. I know that you and your sister expected to be on this train, and you expected it to fly right by, leaving your old friends standing on the platform. That was the idea, wasn't it? You'd have the gold and they would just have several small but heavy boxes.
"Well, that isn't the way it's going to happen. We are going to stop there, but just long enough to put you off."
Burt was sweating, his brow was beaded with it. His face had taken on an even more sickly look, and his eyes seemed unusually large. "Marshal, you can't do that! You can't put me off! Why, that would be murder!"
"Like what your sister Helen did to her husband, you mean? Like what your associates have done with Holstrum?"
"Holstrum? He's dead?"
"Well, we don't know, but he left with them and with that woman he was sweet on, but I'm betting they decided once they had the loot that they didn't need him anymore. I hope I'm wrong. But you know how it is. They'll be thinking just like your sister and you ... who wanted it all."
"Where is she?"
"We have her ... " Shanaghy took out his big silver watch. "Well, it won't be long now. Josh, you see anything yet?"
"Too soon."
Shanaghy got up. "Judge, talk to this man, will you? We've got maybe twenty miles to go, and if he doesn't tell us anything by the time we get there I'm going to just drop him off at the next station. You talk some sense into him if you can while I go along up to the baggage car."
Only three passengers rode in the only other passenger car and Shanaghy walked through, opening the door into the baggage car.
The expressman looked startled when Shanaghy walked in, then relieved when he glimpsed the badge. "Something I can do for you, Officer?"
Shanaghy glanced around, unsure of what to look for beyond an approximate capacity. "Your heaviest shipment," he said, "I'd like to see that."
"Heaviest?" the expressman looked thoughtful. "We have several heavy ones. Right there"-he indicated several solidly built boxes-"those are the heaviest ones."
"Where were they loaded?"
He shrugged. "They were here when I took over from the other man," he said. He glanced at the labels tied on the boxes. "Kansas City," he said, "to H. R. Carpenter. It's stenciled on the boxes, too."
"It's a stolen shipment," Shanaghy said. "If you check your records you will see that such a shipment was directed to Greenwood, Holstrum & Carpenter yesterday. The weights will be the same."
"You taking this one?"
"We are, in the name of the above parties. I will sign for it. Judge McBane is with me."
"I don't know whether I can do that, Marshal. Maybe we-"
"Leave it to us. And one more thing, when the train stops don't open your doors under any circumstances. If I were you I'd lie down on the floor behind those boxes and stay there until we pull out of the station."
"There'll be shooting?"
"Unless I miss my guess there will be some, but we will be doing our share."
The train was slowing. Swiftly, Shanaghy ran back through the cars.
Josh was at the door with a Winchester. There was another man beside him. "This here's Joel Strong. He was on the train, and when he found out what was happening he wanted a piece of the action."
"I remember him. He was speaking to the judge here on my first morning in town. All right, consider yourself a deputy."
He walked over to McBane. "Well, Burt," he said, "have you anything to say?"
"He's said it," McBane replied. "We have all we need."
The train was slowing down for its stop at the station. Shanaghy took his gun from the holster and checked the chambers once more. Then the other gun.
George ... George would be good with a gun, he knew that. Pin McBride would, also. McBride was the man who made him jump from the moving train. If it could be done without shooting, well and good ... But Shanaghy did not believe it could.
McBane stood beside him. "It began with Greenwood and Holstrum when they went to Kansas City to arrange for the shipment of gold. The blonde woman, I do not have her name straight, was at dinner with friends, and she heard of these men who had come into the bank, and of the gold ship
ment they had arranged. She was a girl who had once been wealthy and wanted to be again, and the idea came to her. She had seen George a time or two, knew he was a gambler and worse, and she got the hostler in a stable to bring him to her.
"She's a very cold, assured young woman," McBane said. "She apparently knew exactly what she was about and believed she could take care of herself. Deliberately, she arranged to meet Holstrum and played up to him. She agreed to come to his town and see it, and when she arrived there she began at once to talk of the pleasant places in Chicago and New York, and what could be done if they only had the money.
"She kept Holstrum at arm's length, and that made him admire her all the more. It seems to have been painfully easy to win him over. He had told her she must not come to town when the money arrived because Vince Patterson and his men might actually try to burn the town. It was she who suggested that somebody might take that chance to steal the money ... and who would know the difference? She had George standing by and he had recruited McBride and the others."
"Mrs. Carpenter had heard of the shipment from her husband. Some of the money, but only a small amount, would be his, By this time she wanted no more of Carpenter or the town.
"She had seen the blonde woman in town, and she had seen George in deep conversation with Holstrum, and she was no fool. She is a woman who trusts no one, who suspects everyone. Knowing about the shipment, she became suspicious. She talked to Burt about the gold, when it would arrive and what would be done with it. How long it would be on the platform, and if it were stolen how the thieves could get away with it.
"Burt was scared. But she kept after him. She kept after him with her questions and asked, finally, why the gold had to leave the train at all? If they were going to steal it, why not just change the delivery directions and reship it? And the more he thought of it, the better it looked.
"Burt swears he wouldn't have gone into it at all but for the fact that he started thinking about the others stealing it, if that was what was planned. Unloading at the water tank at Holstrum had not occurred to him, and he got the idea that if they stole it they would have to kill him."
Tom Shanaghy walked to the door of the car. The station ahead was only a boxcar dismounted from its wheels, with a plank platform in front of it. He could see several horses with saddles and others with packsaddles.
There was only one man in sight, standing alone on the platform. Beside him were several boxes, stacked neatly. Evidently they had not discovered they had been tricked. The man moved forward as the train came to a stop.
"Open up!" he shouted. "We've got some express!"
Nothing happened. Impatiently, he stepped closer. "Hey, in there! Open up!"
Tom Shanaghy glanced at the freight car. Only one man could come out of that door at once, and he saw but one window.
"Josh," he said over his shoulder, "if shooting starts put a bullet through that window."
He stepped down on the platform. "Something I can do for you?" he asked.
Sunlight struck the badge and the man went for his gun. Instantly, another man loomed in the door. It was George Alcott.
Shanaghy drew and fired in the same instant, shooting at George, whom he suspected of being the best shot. He fired, a second time, at the man beside the boxes.
Josh dropped to the platform, shooting into the window. There was a cry from within, and as quickly as it had begun it was over.
George was down in the doorway. The man beside the boxes was clutching a bloody arm, his gun on the platform at his feet.
Tom Shanaghy walked toward the door and said, "All of you inside there, step outside, hands in the air."
There was a moment of hesitation and then Shanaghy said, just loud enough, "If you imagine those walls are shelter, let me tell you this. A forty-four or forty-five bullet will go through six inches of pine ... You've got about an inch. Come out, hands up, or we are going to shoot that car so full of holes it will look like a sieve."
They came out-another stranger first, then the girl, and lastly, Pin McBride.
"Where's Holstrum?" he asked.
Nobody said anything. The blonde girl's face was drawn and her lips were compressed. She was staring at him, frightened and angry.
As she stepped around George's body, she shrank from him, holding her skirts away. She did not look at the man seated on the boxes. He was holding his wqunded arm and cursing in a low, monotonous voice.
Shanaghy walked to McBride and took a pistol from him. McBride glared at him. "Damn you! I should have killed you!"
"You might have," Shanaghy replied, "makin' me jump that way. If it will give you any pleasure, you might as well know that making me jump off that train and then throwing that gear after me was what blew up your show."
"What d'you mean?"
"First, you made me mad. Second, those duds you threw after me belonged to Rig Barrett. His guns were in the bedroll. " He smiled. "You see? It was your own pigheaded attitude that brought you to this."
The girl's eyes were furious. "Just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "I was just waiting for the train-!"
"Good!" He smiled at her. "Because it's right here, waiting for you. Before we put you aboard, we'd better have a look at these nice little boxes you have here.
"Now, these boxes should contain about twelve thousand twenty-dollar gold pieces, and about ten thousand dollars in silver."
From the engineer Shanaghy borrowed a hammer and knocked loose a couple of boards. He lifted the boards and tore loose the sacking inside the boxes.
"All of you ... have a look."
McBride swung around, angrily. "You don't have to show me ... !" His voice broke off and he stared, his face slowly turning pale.
The boxes were filled with nuts, bolts and screws.
Chapter Twenty-One
AT HIS expression the blonde girl turned her head. When she saw the boxes Shanaghy thought for a moment she was going to cry. Then her face took on a hard, ugly look.
"The trouble with being a crook," Shanaghy said mildly, "is that you have to associate with so many dishonest people."
"Who did that?" McBride demanded. "How the devil-?"
"Looks like you boys have been played for suckers," Shanaghy continued. He turned to Josh. "You an' Joel hogtie this lot, including the lady. If you take my advice you'll watch her most of all."
She kept glancing at the train, and clutching her handbag in her left hand. He reached over and took the handbag from her. She started to pull it away but he took it with a quick jerk. When he opened it he found a .44 Derringer. He showed it to Joel Strong and Josh. "Can't be too careful," he added.
"What happened to that gold?" McBride demanded.
"If it gets into the papers, you can read about it there," Shanaghy said. He turned to Josh. "Take 'em aboard now."
"Where are we going?" Judge McBane asked from the doorway.
"Back to town," he said. "I'll speak to the engineer."
The train started to back up the track. Shanaghy walked forward to the express car. When he opened the door the express messenger shook his head. "Man, they had me running scared there, for a minute, with that shootin' and all."
"Don't let it worry you. I think it's all over."
He glanced at the shipment, then walked back to the car where the prisoners rode. Despite their mild objections, McBane had moved the other passengers into the other coach, so they had the prisoners and themselves in the car alone.
Josh had taken a seat at one end of the car facing the prisoners, and Joel Strong at the other. Two of the prisoners were seated together. McBride sat alone as did the girl.
Shanaghy was tired. He was feeling the letdown from days of thinking and worry. He paused by McBride. "Are you the one who shot an old prospector's burro out by the water tank?"
McBride looked up. "You going to arrest me for that, too?"
"No," Shanaghy said. "I think with trying to steal the gold shipment and the murder of Holstrum, we've got enough
on you. Then there's the attack on Rig Barrett, resisting an officer and a good deal more. Take my advice, though. If you get a chance to escape, don't take it."
"What's that mean?"
"That old man whose burro you killed. He'd like nothing better than to get a shot at you. And if you do escape I am not even going to look for you. He'll take care of it."
"That old blister? Hell, I should've shot him as well as his burro."
"Well, you didn't, and that's a mighty hard old man. And he loved that burro. He's taking it mighty bad."
Greenwood was at the station when the train backed in and he watched the prisoners get off. He also watched the body of George taken from the train.
"Holstrum?" he asked.
"I think they killed him. They aren't talking about him, so I'll have to ride out that way and have a look. Anyway, he didn't show up here."
Shanaghy himself helped unload the boxes containing the gold. "There it is, Greenie," he said. "Now you can supply the money to pay off those cowhands."
Greenwood looked at the boxes and shook his head. "Tom, I'm damned if I know what to say. You've saved the town and our money, too, and mighty poor treatment you've had for it."
"Fix me up with a room at the hotel again, and I'll ask for nothing more."
"No problem. They all know who killed Carp now, and most of them are sorry for the way they acted." He paused. "By the way, you've some friends in town ... at least they were asking for you."
"Friends? I don't know anybody in this part of the country."
Greenwood lit a cigar. "Don't appear to be from around here. I'd say they were easterners. There's four of them."
Easterners? Who- Suddenly he remembered the letter from John Morrissey. He felt in his pockets for it, then opened it.
Dear Tom:
No need for you to come back unless you wish to. What you started when you left worked out fine and the Childers people are gone ... cleaned out. However, if I were in your boots I would keep a sharp eye out. The Childers are still around and you were the one they wanted most of all.
Lochlin is well, and sends regards.
The Iron Marshall Page 18