by H. H. Knibbs
Bailey chewed on his lower lip, shrugged his shoulders and stepped back.
Sutton and Tilghman left the hotel and crossed the street to the railroad tracks where a crowd had gathered. Neal Brown was guarding a body he’d dragged from the other side of the tracks.
“It’s that whiskered son who allowed he was packing a new rope for you, Silent,” Brown said. “I saw him slip over here in the dark, when he thought the law was all up at the Occidental. It was him who sent that shot through your hotel window. He kill anybody?”
“He killed a hand by the name of Whitey Briggs,” Tilghman answered after a pause. “Is this some of your work?” he asked, as he indicated the dead man.
“This scatter-gun runs nine buckshot to the barrel,” Brown answered.
“This Whitey Briggs,” Tilghman said. “Just before he stopped that slug, he called Stud Bailey…boss!”
“It’s all beginning to add up,” Brown said thoughtfully. “Stud would have things his own way if he could get the law to kill Silent. Now he’s making a play to set the cattlemen against the marshal. Someone ought to take care of Bailey.” Brown stared hard at Sutton.
“Somebody will,” Tilghman answered.
Sutton whirled like a flash. “Leave Bailey alone,” he said harshly. “I don’t need any help with him!”
“Lay your hackles, Marshal,” Tilghman said soothingly. “I’m like Bailey in that respect. I never trespass on another man’s claim!”
Sutton stepped back into the shadows and pulled Tilghman with him. When Neal Brown turned to see what had caused the marshal’s behavior, Sutton pointed down the track toward the loading corrals which marked the deadline for gun-toters.
“Take a look,” Sutton said.
Tilghman stared and swore. Men were coming toward the corrals, and the yellow lights from the saloon-lamps winked back from gun-laden holsters. The deputy spoke to the crowd of unarmed men staring at the body.
“You fellows scatter and hunt cover. Yonder comes Bailey’s fighters, and they mean trouble. Get, before you draw their fire!”
The crowd dispersed and circled back in the deeper shadows. They knew Bailey’s killers. Those who stood their ground seemed undecided until Brown spoke.
“Stick around and get shot,” he said coldly. “It’s your funeral!”
Soldiers and bullwhackers hesitated. Not a man wore a gun in sight, and they raced across the street for the shelter of the Alamo Saloon and the Red Rose Dance Hall.
Brown circled and took his stand near the dripping water tank. Bill Tilghman stepped behind a pile of stacked railroad ties, while Sutton sought the partial protection of a large tool box.
Sutton watched the advancing army and counted heads. Eighteen, with more coming from the chutes.
Sutton told himself that Dodge City would be a better place in which to live without these hired killers. They had treed the law so many times that it had become a fixed habit.
Bailey’s crew had fanned out in a thin double line. They were nameless outlaws who had been driven from Texas and other more populous states. They hated the law, and a marshal’s star was just another target.
Sutton glanced across the street and saw Judge Jordan in the courtroom doorway. The judge held a shotgun at his hip, both hammers notched. Sutton raised his eyes to the hotel window.
Necktie Patton and Buffalo McGrew each had a shotgun resting on the window sill, covering the marching men. That would leave Bat Masterson to take care of Bailey. Sutton made a quick decision.
“Stop where you are! You’re covered from all sides!”
Because he spoke so seldom, his ringing voice commanded instant attention. The advancing mob slowed, then halted.
Sutton stepped from the shadows and stood beside the body of the dead killer. He watched the mob for a moment and they leaned forward waiting for him to speak. Sutton remained silent. A hoarse voice boomed from the hotel window.
“The first man who reaches for his sixes will wake up in hell! You gents settle down in your boots while I call the roll. To begin with, me and Necktie Patton are both ready up here with scatterguns. Yonder by the courtroom is the judge!”
Heads swiveled as McGrew checked off the law forces. Neal Brown answered from the water tank, and Bill Tilghman acknowledged his presence from behind the stack of ties. They had the law out-numbered four-to-one, but the law had the biggest guns.
“Hands high, you mangy owl-hooters,” McGrew barked from his window.
Sutton walked up to the front line and emptied holsters with his left hand. His right was close to his own holster, and his cold blue eyes stared into each hard face as he went about his law work. When his job was finished, he jerked his head toward the courtroom.
With Tilghman riding point, Brown came out of the shadows to bring up the drag, like a cowboy rounding up strays. Buffalo McGrew stepped out of the Occidental with his riot gun, and the parade started for Judge Bisley Jordan’s bar of justice.
Sutton crossed the street and walked through the Longhorn Corral to the alley in the rear. He glanced up at Gorgeous Mary’s apartment and found it dark. A light was burning in Bailey’s quarters behind the Alamo Saloon, and Sutton made for the side door and shouldered through.
He stared at the big desk for a long moment. His eyes widened when he saw the edge of a canvas sack caught in the bottom drawer that had been slammed hurriedly. He crossed quickly to the desk and jerked open the drawer, and his eyes began to blaze as he reached into the sack with his left hand and drew out some paper money.
Yellow fifty-dollar bills winked up at him, each branded with the J Bar B. Another sheath of bills rested under the money sack, with an unbroken paper band binding the money in a neat package. Sutton leaned over to read the handwriting he could see on the paper band: Ten Thousand, Crail Creedon.
Sutton stuffed the money sack and the new bills down in the front of his shirt. His lips curled to tell of the anger seething within him, and then he smiled coldly.
Finding the money in Bailey’s desk would not be evidence of guilt in court. The gambler’s door had been left open, and the robbers could have planted the money, just as Briggs had planted some of it in the marshal’s hotel room.
Sutton backed out through the rear door. He heard the clink of glasses in the saloon, and he cuffed his Stetson low against the glare of the coal-oil lamps. Sutton stopped instantly when something hard jammed against his spine.
“Hands high, you sneakin’ law buzzard!” a deep voice warned in a whisper. “You tried to frame Stud, but the trap sprung back on you.”
Sutton raised both hands.
“You thought you had the goods on Stud,” Gorgeous Mary sneered. “I wonder what the folks will think when they find all that loot down inside your shirt.”
Sutton slowed his breathing for a time. He had been accused of robbing both Colonel Benton and Crail Creedon. Most of the money was now inside his shirt, and he cursed himself silently for not having a witness when he took the money from Bailey’s desk.
“They searched your room, but they didn’t shake you down,” Mary said. “Well, Mister Marshal, they can make another search when you and me walk into that crowded courtroom. Now you start walking, and don’t forget I have a cocked .45 in your back.”
“I won’t forget,” Sutton said slowly. “Not after seeing Pete Shagrue, and that hole in his back you made.”
“Stop talking, and start walking!” the woman ordered savagely.
Sutton turned slowly and headed for the Longhorn Corral. Gorgeous Mary kept step with him to keep the steady pressure on the gun in his back. Front Street was empty because most of the curious were watching Judge Jordan deal out frontier law to Bailey’s crew in the crowded courtroom.
Sutton walked slowly through the Occidental lobby, and started up the steps. The pressure lessened on his back because Mary was two steps below him. He resi
sted the impulse to whirl and take a chance when her voice whispered mockingly.
“No dice, marshal. I couldn’t miss at four feet.”
Bill Tilghman was standing guard just outside Sutton’s door.
“Take it easy, folks. The marshal is coming at last, and Gorgeous Mary has him under her gun. Under one of Bailey’s six-shooters,” he added with a snort, as he recognized the white ivory handles.
Sutton walked into the room and kept both hands at a level with his shoulders. Molly Jo gasped and bit her lower lip. Bailey smiled.
Creedon and Sibley leaned forward to stare, and Bat Masterson clamped his teeth down tight. It was Gorgeous Mary’s show.
“Cover this holdup, Masterson!” Mary commanded, and Masterson reluctantly drew one of his six-shooters. “I caught your marshal with the goods, and I brought him up here to show you longhorns what kind of law you hired to boss Dodge City. I was going to herd him down to the courtroom, but I thought I’d have a better chance with you cattlemen.”
“What does she mean, Silent?” Molly Jo asked faintly.
Sutton shrugged.
“I saw that little act from my window tonight,” the woman began. “Sutton saw a chance to make some easy money, and Briggs was in on the steal. I don’t know how the marshal worked that other job where Crail Creedon was robbed, but he gave the orders, and he got the loot!”
“We found a thousand on Briggs, and another thousand he planted in Sutton’s coat pocket,” Masterson interrupted. “It couldn’t have been the marshal!”
“Did you search the marshal?” Mary demanded.
“Use your head, Mary,” Bailey interrupted impatiently. “Sutton wouldn’t keep that money on him!”
“Wouldn’t he?” Mary sneered. “Didn’t he keep Colonel Benton’s money belt on him when he pulled that other fake holdup?”
Her left hand hooked in the front of Sutton’s white shirt. She ripped savagely to tear off the buttons, and Molly Jo stifled a little cry of dismay when the money sack fell to the floor.
Mary stepped back and leaned down to pick up the packet of bills bound with the paper band. She handed it to Crail Creedon.
“Damn you, Silent!” he said hoarsely. “That’s the same money I borrowed from Bailey!”
“That money sack holds the loot Sutton was stealing from Colonel Benton, and him down with his head under him.” Bailey said quietly. “When a lawman goes crooked, he certainly goes all the way. It’s my guess your marshal was rodding the wild bunch himself!”
“I’m a Texan,” Bailey said quietly, and only his glittering black eyes betrayed his eagerness. “Silent Sutton came up here to match guns with me, and I’ve often heard you law gents say that a man couldn’t do his best fighting when he knows he’s wrong. I’ll take my gun and draw him even!”
Sutton nodded. They waited for him to speak, and finally Bat Masterson acted as Sutton’s rep, and spoke for the law.
“Make the time straight up twelve o’clock tomorrow noon. Bailey comes to the south end of the Longhorn Corral, from the Red Rose Dance Hall. Silent leaves the courtroom at the north end of the corral. Give a clean break and take an even draw.”
Bill Tilghman stepped in from the hall and cleared his throat. All eyes turned toward the deputy sheriff, and drifted past Tilghman to stare at the woman by his side. She was dressed in somber black.
“There’s your law,” Bailey sneered. “Rowdy Kate was ordered to leave town. She tried to kill me in the Alamo, and she tried again in the cemetery. She must have a pull with the city marshal!”
“Leave the women out of it, Bailey!” Sutton said sternly.
“Talking about having pull,” Tilghman interrupted gruffly. “Gorgeous Mary paid money to have Molly Jo kidnapped. Gorgeous Mary tried to kill Sutton up in Boothill, and she knew he was unarmed. She’s six around one end, and a half dozen on the other, the way I see it. You’ve got something to say, Kate?”
Rowdy Kate nodded. She spoke between tightly clenched teeth.
“Don’t fight with that gambler, Marshal,” she spoke to Sutton. “He walked into my place the other night. He killed Oregon Saunders and Jake Bowman, and they were both fast with their guns. They didn’t have a chance against Stud Bailey!”
“They both went for their guns,” Bailey said quietly.
“They did, and they still didn’t have a chance,” Rowdy Kate said sadly. “But that isn’t why I came here. The marshal gave me a chance, and I try to pay my debts.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Kate,” Sutton said soothingly.
“I was standing out there in the hall all the time,” Kate said grimly, and she turned to glare at Gorgeous Mary. “You don’t know how close I came to sending you to hell, you blond hussy,” she muttered deep in her throat.
“Any time you feel lucky, Rowdy,” Mary sneered.
“The marshal didn’t steal that money,” Kate said quietly. “I went to Bailey’s office to do some stealing on my own. I was ordered out of town, and I’m broke.”
Sutton leaned forward with a startled gleam in his eyes. Then he turned to Gorgeous Mary and smiled with his lips.
“I hid behind a screen when the marshal came into the room,” Kate continued. “I saw him search the place, and then Sutton saw the edge of that money sack sticking from a drawer in Bailey’s desk. That other package of money was under the sack, and the marshal shoved them down inside his shirt, and started back here to the hotel!”
“You’re a liar!” Mary accused viciously. “You and the marshal worked this play out between yourselves!”
Rowdy Kate smiled wanly and ignored the interruption. “That big dizzy blonde was waiting right outside Bailey’s back door,” she continued. “The light was in Sutton’s eyes, and Mary shoved a gun in his back. She told him how it would look if he were found dead in the corral with all that money inside his shirt, and she marched him up here to make it look bad for the law, and good for that killing gambler!”
The glare faded from Crail Creedon’s eyes as the story was told. Molly Jo walked slowly to Sutton, and Masterson nodded.
“I’m sorry for what I was thinking, Silent,” she said bravely. “Kate has proved your honesty, and you won’t have to kill a man to clear your good name.”
“I beg your pardon,” Bailey interrupted, and his voice was brittle. “Your words imply that I am dishonest because this money was found in my rooms!”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Mr. Bailey,” Molly Jo answered hesitantly. “But I do trust Rowdy Kate!”
“Careful, sister,” Gorgeous Mary warned. “You had plenty of help the last time you and I had words!”
Molly Jo threw back her head and faced the larger woman with blazing brown eyes. “You’re a cheat and a liar, Mary!” she clipped off her words. “You take advantage of your sex, and you tried to kill Silent because you knew he wouldn’t fight back. You wouldn’t take a chance if you thought you might get hurt yourself!”
“Take a chance with me,” Gorgeous Mary begged. “I’ll cut you to ribbons!”
“Nuh-uh,” Molly Jo contradicted quietly. “But I’ll take Silent’s place tomorrow noon, and you can take Mr. Bailey’s spot. You can use that six-shooter you borrowed from Mr. Bailey, and I’ll borrow one from Silent.”
Mary began to tremble. Masterson and Tilghman turned their eyes away, and Rowdy Kate stepped up to Molly Jo.
“You’re a good girl, Miss Molly,” she said earnestly. “Let me take your place. Gorgeous Mary’s man killed my man, and I could even the score. Let me meet her, and I’ll trigger the marshal’s gun until it runs dry!”
Tilghman said slowly, “I’ll break up any deliberate gunfight I see, and that goes for men and women alike!”
“It takes the law to side the law,” Bailey sneered. “Your butting in gives Sutton a little longer to live, but his luck can’t hold forever!”
“Both of you gents heard my palaver, and I’m riding for the county law,” Tilghman reminded grimly. “You all ought to know better, and most of you do. This is just another smart play to promote trouble between the law forces, but it just won’t work while I’m packing a star!” Stud shrugged lightly and turned to face Sutton.
“Still loaded with luck,” he said coldly. “Someday you’ll crowd it too far.”
“Yours is running out,” Sutton said shortly.
“I make my own luck,” Bailey retorted.
“I’ll say you do,” Masterson agreed harshly. “But it has failed you four times lately, that I know of. Better not crowd it yourself.”
“Later, for you,” the gambler said, and kept his eyes on the marshal. “Loaded dice,” he said viciously. “It looks like our little coming-out party is called off!”
“Postponed,” Sutton corrected, and jerked his head toward the door of his room.
Masterson followed Bailey and Gorgeous Mary down the hall, and Bill Tilghman took Rowdy Kate’s arm. Molly Jo and Crail Creedon hung back, and the old Texan closed the door quietly and placed his back against it as he faced Sutton.
CHAPTER IX
PILE ’EM DEEP AND BLOODY!
Sutton flushed as he turned away from Molly Jo and tried to button, his torn white shirt. He picked up his coat and shrugged into it, and he was fastening the lower buttons when Creedon laid one big arm across the marshal’s wide shoulders.
“Colonel Jim Benton has been asking to see you, Silent,” Creedon began. “The colonel got shot up because he throwed in with the law, and between you and Stud Bailey, you’ve got us throwed and hog-tied.”
“Now you know Bailey,” Sutton said, and he did not look at Molly Jo.
“I’m not sure that I do,” Creedon answered with a frown. “He’s a Texas man, and we’re broke unless we get our steers to market, and collect the money they’ll bring.”
Sutton opened his mouth, remembered Molly Jo, and trapped his lips together again.
“You were saying?” Creedon prompted hopefully.
Sutton lowered his head and closed his eyes as he tried to find a suitable answer. Dollar-Sign Sibley and Colonel Benton had both agreed to pay a heavy percentage to guarantee safe delivery of their trail herds. Crail Creedon had done the same, and all three had given Bailey permission in writing to act for them.