by Joe Millard
Apachito screeched again and lit out in the direction of his headquarters cabin. Most of the outlaws, infected with the leader's panic, raced after him in mindless flight. One, however, bolder than the rest, held his ground and took careful aim at the approaching beast.
The hunter's hand flashed under his poncho and came out with the extra pistol he had tucked into his waistband for emergencies. He shot from the hip without aiming. The outlaw dropped his unfired gun and went down, a dark stain spreading over the region of his heart.
Shadrach caught up the outlaw's gun and loosed a shot at the knot of men ramming their way into the headquarters cabin. When nothing happened, he swore wrathfully.
"Damn these short-barreled popguns with no range. If that bastard hadn't taken my cannon, there'd have been one less of those rats to deal with." He glared at the bounty hunter. "You skunk! I forgot about the extra gun you'd tucked away. You had no intention of really surrendering."
"I had to lure him away from Molly before the shooting started."
Molly was on her knees with Laura beside her, both hugging Elmer and trying to dodge the affectionate caresses of a tongue like a blacksmith's file. Cora in her clown outfit, was clinging to Dandy. One side of his face was liberally smeared with her makeup.
"Come on," the hunter said under his breath. "I've got a hunch we're next in line for a hugging, if we hang around here. Let's go cash in the rest of our bounty chips."
They stripped the gun belts from the fallen trio and trotted off toward the big cabin where Apachito and his surviving followers had holed up. On the way the hunter reloaded his own familiar gun and slipped it back in its holster, returning the spare to his waistband.
The cabin in which the outlaws had taken refuge was very nearly an impregnable fortress. The log walls would turn a cannon ball and the heavy single door was barred with an oak timber. The two glassless windows, one in either side wall, were fitted with iron bars. Inside was a well-stocked arsenal of guns and ammunition.
"What's the plan now?" Shadrach panted as they neared the cabin, approaching from the front to keep out of a possible line of fire from either window. "Do we lay siege and starve them out?"
The hunter shook his head. "That could take forever. For all we know, they might have a month's food supply stored there somewhere."
"So what else can we do? If we try busting in, we could get our heads blown off, and they can see out through those bars a lot better than we could see in to pick them off."
"Dynamite. He used some today to blow the face of that cliff off, and he must use plenty of it breaking open safes and strongboxes. He's too smart and too jumpy to store it around their living quarters, so there's got to be a magazine, probably out in the woods somewhere."
"Oh, great," Shadrach said ironically. "So to save time we spend maybe weeks hunting for something you're only guessing exists. And while we're hunting, what's to prevent their slipping out and making their getaway?"
"But we won't be hunting. We'll be bluffing, old boy." He moved to the corner of the cabin and raised his voice. "Oh, Apachito! Thanks for the fine supply of dynamite. It's more than enough to blow this place to matchwood. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to push your guns out the window first and then come out with your hands up."
He waited but only silence answered him,
"All right," he called. "You got one chance and that was it." He dropped his voice to a conversational tone. "Let's get started. Shad. I figure two sticks under each corner ought to be plenty. You take the two back corners and I'll take the front."
"Right," Shadrach said, taking his cue. "But give me a good length of that fuse. I want to be far away when these logs start flying."
The bounty hunter picked up a stick and began jabbing it into the dirt under the base log. From the open window came a low murmur of voices, with Apachito's harsh guttural voice overriding the others.
Suddenly a strange voice called, "Hold up out there. He can stay here and get hisself blowed to hell if he wants to, but the rest of us are coming out. Here's our guns to prove it's no trick."
One after another, nine holstered guns with their belts were pushed out between the bars. There was the scraping sound of the bar being lifted from the door.
Suddenly Apachito's voice said, "Hold on a minute. I'm going out with you, after all." He raised his voice. "Here's my gun and the big, long one I took off the other fella."
Shadrach snatched his own custom-made gun eagerly. "Now I don't feel so naked."
He spun the cylinder, checking the loads, then took his place beside the hunter, both guns covering the door as it opened. One by one the nine survivors sidled out, holding their empty hands out wide and moving into a rough line. Apachito was the last to appear. He stood in the doorway a moment, glaring at the pair, then moved to the end of the line.
Casually he reached up with his right hand and scratched an itch that seemed to start on his lower ribs and reach around to the small of his back. His hand disappeared behind him for an instant. When it reappeared it was gripping a cocked pistol that had been tucked into his waistband at the back.
He was still raising the gun when the hunter's slug took him between the eyes.
The other nine were frantically clawing at their backs. The hunter's hand slapped the hammer of his gun again and again. Beside him Shadrach's huge gun was bellowing. Then it was over as suddenly as it had begun.
Dandy charged up and skidded to a stop, staring with bulging eyes at the ten bodies on the ground.
"My God," he muttered. "A complete and total wipe-out. At last we can all breathe again and stop wondering what that monster will come up with next." He grabbed the hunter's hand and pumped it. "Saving our lives seems to be a habit with you. If there is anything I can do to show our appreciation..."
"Now that you mention it," the hunter said, "there is. I can't think of anything I'd rather have right now than a nice, hot bath. I'm sure Molly and the girls won't mind if I borrow their bathtub just this once."
Dandy gaped at him, the color draining out of his face. "B-bath? Tub? Oh—well, I don't know. Molly and the girls are almighty finicky about letting anyone else, even me, use their tub. I—I'll go ask them, but d-don't get your hopes up."
He whirled and galloped off toward the wagons. Shadrach scowled at his rival.
"Do you mind telling me what that silly exchange was all about?"
The bounty hunter grinned and said, "Sometimes, old boy, you amaze me by overlooking the obvious. I was sure you'd notice that the bathtub has almost the same capacity as the money chest, so what better place to hide a half-million dollars?"
When they got to the wagons, Dandy was on his back beneath Molly's rig, struggling to untie the lashings holding the tub up against the wagon bed. At the sound of their steps he turned up a stricken face and his pallor increased markedly.
"Dandy, Dandy," the hunter said. "I don't know what we're going to do with you—trying to cheat your best friends as well as the bank."
"I don't know what you mean," Dandy squawled. "M-Molly said maybe, after she has her bath, she'll let you..."
The hunter squatted down and rapped Dandy on top of the head with his knuckles.
"You're putting a terrible strain on this thing, Dandy, trying to think up answers. Now, I'll finish untying the tub while you trot along and unpack the money chest and bring it here to us. And don't keep us waiting."
The bathtub was packed to the rim with bank notes. Molly and Dandy came trotting back, carrying the empty chest between them.
Molly said, "He swore he was only going to return it to the bank. I guess I believed him because I wanted to."
"Ma'am," the hunter said, "you drop a fish back into water and right away he starts to swim. You don't have to tell him to do it or show him how. He just knows—and people aren't so much different from fish. They just do things that come as natural as breathing."
Molly bent down and kissed the startled bounty hunter on the cheek. "You're a great big fak
e, pretending to be so cold and callous so nobody'll guess you've got a chest full of butter."
CHAPTER 26
The hunter stood by the side of the wagon, puffing on one of his stubby cigarros. The main street of Hangville was almost deserted. A vagrant wind off the desert whipped along the street, sending dust devils scurrying and tumbleweed rolling. It pried up a corner of the tarpaulin that covered the load and set it to flapping.
The bounty hunter hastily caught the flapping tarp and tucked it in more tightly. Some of Hangville's more respectable citizens might have a heart attack if they could have seen that underneath the tarpaulin were dead bodies stacked like cordwood.
Shadrach came out of a doorway down the street and started toward the wagon. He saw the hunter lounging against the wagon, turned to look over his shoulder, then gestured frantically toward a recessed doorway opposite the wagon. The bounty hunter, took a deep pull on his cigar, studied the doorway and stayed where he was.
Shadrach ran up, grabbed him by the arm and shouldered him into the doorway.
"You damned fool," he sputtered. "My God, Sheriff Hipson has sworn to get you if it's the last thing he does in this world. He has a list of charges as long as my arm. And the big deputy, Max somebody-or-other, says he'll kill you on sight. Maybe you don't think I had a merry time convincing them I wasn't tied up with you and had nothing whatever to do with what happened to them."
"You want me to give you a signed affidavit that we never met?"
"Oh, shut up, damn you!" Shadrach growled. "Now listen and listen close. I'll help carry the money chest into the bank and leave it to you to make the best deal you can for the return of their cash. Then you come out and wait for me here in the doorway opposite the wagon. I'll drive the wagon up to Hipson's office, get the bodies unloaded and identified and collect the bounties. How much did we figure it amounted to altogether?"
"Forty-two thousand nine hundred," the hunter said. "On the nose—or just above it."
"I'll collect and meet you back here to divide the bounties and the reward you're picking up at the bank. Then we'll both go to El Paso to collect the reward for finding Apachito's hideout. Afterward we'll go to the mine and dicker for the gold in that wagon Apachito could never spend."
"I trust you," the hunter said. "Remember how far?"
Together they lugged the heavy money chest into the bank and hoisted it onto a counter. Bank President Markert, who had been sitting, talking to a well-dressed stranger, shot to his feet.
"You've got it? You've got the bank's—I mean, the people's money? I remember you. You're that incredible marksman."
"Good," the hunter interrupted coldly. "And I remember you as the penny-pinching banker who offered a miserable twenty-five thousand dollars for the return of a half-million. Any respectable thief in the country would pay at least half and consider it a bargain to retire on."
"Wait," Markert said, waving his arms. "Wait a moment. You weren't around when we raised the reward to fifty—no, no—I mean, a hundred thousand dollars. The money is there in the chest, isn't it? Our five hundred thousand?"
"Don't be ridiculous," the bounty hunter said coldly. "Do you think I'd bring my ace in the hole in to let you snatch it before we could bargain?"
"A hundred fifty thousand!" Markert bleated. "Cash in hand. Wait, I'll count it out."
"Count it," the hunter said. He looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. Shadrach should have concluded his bounty deal and was probably waiting by the wagon, shifting impatiently.
He snatched the thick packet of bank notes Markert brought. A superficial count indicated it was at least close to the amount promised. He started to turn away when the well-dressed stranger jumped up.
"Just a moment, young man. To recover the bank's money in this manner, you must have stumbled upon Apachito's hideout. Did you, by any chance, see a wagon marked LUCKY NUGGET MINE? Was it loaded or unloaded?"
The hunter stared at him coldly without replying.
"It's all right," President Markert said hurriedly. "This is Mr. Amtratt, owner of the Lucky Nugget. He is here to discuss the possibility of increasing the reward from twenty to twenty-five percent of the gold's value. That would amount now to roughly one hundred and twenty-two thousand dollars."
"I'll lead you right to your wagon," the hunter said. "The gold has never been unloaded and even your team is picketed out there. So let's see if you're a fast draw on the purse."
The bounty hunter stopped outside the bank. He counted out twenty-five thousand dollars and planted it in one pocket The remainder of the vast roll was distributed throughout his clothing. He stalked down the street to the doorway. The wagon, empty now of its moldering burden, stood in front of the sheriff's office. There was no sign of Shadrach.
The bounty hunter stepped into the doorway, watching up the street He saw a grizzled oldster plodding along the boardwalk. The old man stopped, peering into the empty wagon with an old man's curiosity, then shaded his eyes to peep through the window of the sheriff's office. He turned finally and came on down the street, muttering to himself.
The hunter stepped out to block the way. "Hold it, old timer. Did you see a tall stranger in a frock coat in there with Sheriff Hipson?"
The old man gaped at him. "Where the hell you been the last couple of days, stranger? Didn't you know somebody handcuffed Ben and his thievin' deputy together, back-to-back, and shot 'em both through the head. Good riddance, I say. Big Matt Dillson's actin' sheriff until we can hold a interim election, whatever t'hell that is. Now, what the hell put the bumblebee up your ass, boy?"
The bounty hunter was charging down the street, swearing under his breath. He burst into the tiny sheriff's office. A big, blonde man behind the desk looked up.
"I'm Matt Dillson, stranger. Can I help you?"
"The big man in the frock coat—he was here collecting bounties..."
"He sure as hell was," the acting sheriff said. "I never did see money go out so damn fast as when he laid his claims and proved 'em. Now the Territory's stuck to pay the goddamnedest undertakin' bill we ever had. He a friend of yours, stranger?"
"A close friend," the hunter said through his teeth. "Very close. Where is he?"
"Oh," the acting sheriff said. "He climbed out the back window after he collected his cash. Said some weird character was follerin' him everywhere he went and he was scared he'd get robbed. He did leave a envelope for somebody and it sure as hell looks like he was describin' you, so here it is."
The hunter slit open the sealed envelope, knowing in advance what he would find. Inside was two hundred and sixty dollars in small bills, together with a brief note.
"Sorry I couldn't wait but enclosed is your payment, at ten dollars apiece, for the wanted outlaws you helped me collect on. If I should need your valuable help at any time in the future I will be most happy to again employ your peculiar talents." It was signed: "Shadrach."
The bounty hunter started to swear, then broke off and began to laugh. He touched the unnatural bulges in the pockets beneath the poncho and his laughter became a howl of glee. The acting sheriff stared at him, then reached into the drawer of his desk for a dog-eared copy of the Laws of the Territory. Somewhere in it was a paragraph on the handling of violent lunatics.
THE END
*****
The following are edits/changes i made to the original text:
page 31
from: prefered horseback
to: preferred horseback
page 32
from: midly disappointed
to: mildly disappointed
page 69
from: lit out for here with the news
to: lit out for here with the news.
page 77
from: Its obvious
to: It's obvious
page 85
from: swept out by the rushing floor
to: swept out by the rushing flood
page 91
from: The hunter leaned for over
&nbs
p; to: The hunter leaned far over
page 112
from: harrassments
to: harassments
page 121
from: Minutes past before the twin reappeared
to: Minutes passed before the twin reappeared
page 138
from: fusilade
to: fusillade