Milo Talon (26 page)

She was all right. She owned a piece of a restaurant and had a good friend in German. Soon she’d know everybody in town. She would have made a place for herself. So what was I worrying about?

Anne was still around, and Anne had no liking for Molly. Furthermore, Molly had something or knew something Anne wanted.

Baggott was still around, and Rolon Taylor’s boys were packing a grudge. But they were my trouble, not hers.

John Topp? The trouble I’d expected from him had
never developed, and now that I was free of Jefferson Henry, it would not.

Three or four tough-looking men loitered outside the Golden Spur, a short distance beyond Maggie’s. They watched me coming, one of them standing with his feet wide apart, a toothpick in his teeth, facing me. I felt like walking down and belting him but didn’t.

Maggie’s Place was quiet when I came in. Only Ribble, that trainman, was there drinking coffee.

Dropping into a chair, I hung my hat on the back of another one. Molly came in smiling. “Thought I’d come around an’ say good-bye,” I said, careless-like.

“Good-bye?”

“Well, you’re back here safe with German. You’ve got yourself a nice little business, and I just collected what Jefferson Henry paid me for finding Anne.”

“She may not be there now.”

“That’s his problem. I warned him to leave her alone.”

Molly brought my breakfast and sat down with me. “You’re going then? Really?”

“Might as well,” I said. “There’s a lot of country I haven’t seen.”

“German warned me that you were a drifter. He said you were fiddle-footed.”

It was true, damn it, but nevertheless it irritated me that he should tell her that. Made me seem kind of no-account. A stir of movement made me look up. Ribble was coming across the room. “None of my business,” he said, “but I sort of like the way you do things. There’s talk around that you’re not getting out of town alive. I think it’s some of Rolon Taylor’s outfit.”

“Thanks,” I said. Looking over at Molly, I said, “I should have gone for my horse instead of coming in for breakfast.”

She just looked at me and I couldn’t think of anything to say, when all the time I had the feeling that this was the time I should be saying something.

Rolon Taylor’s men? Maybe that fellow who had faced me from down the walk. Now what did he want? Now I’m not a trouble-hunting man, but at the same time, when somebody is after you with trouble on his mind he’s hard to avoid in a small town like this one. If a man rode into one end of the street and started to say “I’m just passing through!”, by the time he’d said it he had.

By this time everybody in town would know that I sometimes walked from the hotel to Maggie’s along the back side of the buildings. Things like that don’t pass unnoticed, and when there’s mighty little to talk about it gets to be mentioned.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“Why, I’m going out there. I’d better start toward them or they’ll shoot me in the back.”

“I’ve got a shotgun,” German said.

“You stay out of it. If there’s trouble it came with me, and when I go I’ll take it with me.”

Breakfast tasted mighty good and I lingered over my coffee. There would be more than one of them out there and they would be out to do me in. They were wise enough to scatter out so I couldn’t bunch my shots.

“German,” I said, “do you ever sweep the walk this time of day?”

“Sometimes,” he said, “sometimes I do.”

“Why don’t you sweep it now,” I suggested, “and while you’re about it just give me a rough idea of how those men are positioned?”

He took up his broom and swept some imaginary dust out of the front door, then followed to sweep it off the walk. Almost involuntarily my eyes lifted to the window across the street. It was open at least six inches.

That, too. Might be happenstance, of course.

German came back in. “There’s four of them, at least. One’s across the street, two of them by the water-trough in front of the Spur, and one’s sitting on the bench this side of the Spur. They’ve got a plan and they are ready.”

“Don’t go out there, Milo! Please!” Molly’s eyes were wide and scared.

“Now, Molly, those boys have gone to all that trouble just to show me some attention. Least I can do is acknowledge it.”

“Folks are gettin’ off the street,” German said. “The word’s out.”

“See? There’s no way I can disappoint all those people. Supposin’ they got off the street and then nothing happened?”

Now I was taking it easy-like, but believe me, I didn’t feel all that good inside. Of course, I had it to do. They’d wait and wait and then finally they’d come after me, endangering both German and Molly. It was up to me to go out there but I wanted a plan in mind, so I did some thinking on how they were situated.

“No use waiting,” I said, “but keep the coffee hot. I’ll be back for another cup.”

Molly came to me with the old man’s six-shooter I’d taken. “Take this,” she said, “you may need an extra.”

Now that was a thoughtful lady!

I put a hand on the doorknob. I had to get clear of the door—one quick step, and—!

Nobody could have done it quicker, smoother, or better. When I went through that door it was slick as a whistle and I already had a gun in my hand.

They went for theirs and I saw a fifth and a sixth man suddenly step into view, one of them with a rifle.

W
HEN I REACHED the street and saw all those men out there I thought I’d bought my ticket. The man facing me about thirty feet off was that one who had stood spraddle-legged across the walk. I never shot a man with pleasure, but this came almost to that point.

He had a tobacco-sack tag hanging out of his shirt pocket and my bullet cut the lower inside edge off it. Just about that time I heard a boom from up and behind me, a boom that sounded like a Sharps .50.

The man in the street center went to his knees, tried to get up and then fell again, and then there was shooting from farther along and I saw Pablo and Felipe out there, cutting down some of Taylor’s men. The Big Fifty boomed again and all of a sudden that street was empty except for those who were down and my own friends.

Turning around to look for that Big Fifty, I saw that upstairs window closing.

There were four men down in the street, one struggling to get up, the rest of them no longer paying mind to anything.

Pablo and Felipe walked toward me and Pablo said, “This is all. They are finish.”

“Rolon Taylor—?”

“Finish. Shelby come down, burn him out. Taylor rustle cows, stampede horse herd, shoot me. Shelby say you got ten seconds, ride out or hang to those trees. They are gone, all gone.”

My eyes went to Felipe. “You work for Shelby?”

He lit the cold cigarette in his teeth and spoke around it. “I work for nobody.”

“Well—thanks, Felipe.”

He threw the match into the street.
“Por nada.”
He touched a finger to the edge of his sombrero and walked away toward the Golden Spur.

People were coming from doors along the street, some of them stared at the bodies, some walked hurriedly away. Pablo was walking after Felipe. Turning, I went back to the hotel.

The clerk looked at me as I came in. “This was a dull town until you came along,” he said. “I never thought I’d want it to stay dull, but I do.”

“Want me to leave?”

He shrugged. “Whenever,” he said, and I went up the stairs, entered my room, and lay down on the bed. I stared up at the ceiling, hands clasped behind my head. What I wanted now was some big country and a long trail.

For a long time I lay there and finally my eyes closed. When I opened them they looked at the wardrobe where Molly had left something hidden.

Then I thought of that Big Fifty booming out from behind me. Arkansaw Tom Baggott. It had to have been him … why?

My eyes closed again, but I was not asleep, just resting. Slowly I let my muscles relax, I did not think of the
man I had killed. I knew his kind only too well. I did not know his name, I did not know his origin, I only knew the type. A lot of swagger, a trouble-hunter, wanting to be known but not realizing how empty and how brief is a reputation bought with a gun.

Up there in the wardrobe could be the solution to all of our problems. Molly had not said so but I believed it was what was taken from the safe after Nathan was killed. I did not know what it was but I had an idea.

Molly … I’d have to see Molly. And German. Then I could ride out, west into the San Juan country. I had some distant cousins out there, had a ranch somewhere west of the San Juans.

Anne? What about Anne? Taylor had worked with her and she had lost him, lost his men. She still had old Eyebrows with his shotgun, and that big woman, and the dude, the city man. Now who would he be?

Again I thought of Nathan Albro, an intelligent man who knew how to make money, who knew how to build railroads and open vast lands to use and development, but was basically a lonely man. In his mind he was reaching out for affection, not knowing how, not finding it.

Except in Molly, the daughter of his housekeeper.

What would Anne do?

A shrewd girl, and a very hard one. What would she do now?

She was on record as Nathan’s daughter, although she was only a stepdaughter. If there was no will, she would inherit all, but she was afraid there was a will, maybe she even knew there was.

If there was a will, she must have gathered that Molly would benefit.

Therefore she must eliminate Molly.

They had taken her once, obviously with the intention of getting from her the location of the will and of the gold, for they were thinking in terms of gold, in coins or bars.

Molly was the one they must deal with, in one way or another. And Molly was vulnerable.

Jefferson Henry? And what had happened to Stacy Henry? That she was dead seemed obvious, but how? Where? When? Nathan Albro, a man of good intentions, had left a trail of murder behind him.

There was a tap on the door. My hand slid the gun from its holster; held in my right hand, it lay on the bed beside me. There was no chair under the knob.

“Come in,” I said, and it was Jefferson Henry.

He looked tired and old. He stepped inside, hat in hand. “We can talk business,” he said.

“Sit down.” I hitched myself a little higher. He could see the gun.

“You won’t need that,” he said.

I smiled at him. “Who can tell?” I said.

“This has gotten out of hand,” he said. “It began as a simple affair. Anne, or Nancy, if you wish to call her that, was to inherit. Her mother was my son’s wife. I hoped to help her, to be of service.”

I smiled and saw the flicker of irritation cross his face.

“Now that I have found her she will not talk to me. She says I have nothing to do with it, or with her.”

“Isn’t she right?”

Again that irritation, more obvious this time. “Of
course not. I am her nearest living relative. I am a man experienced in business. No young girl—”

“Henry,” I interrupted, “you obviously haven’t seen much of Anne. She’s no average young girl. She’s young, and she’s a girl. You’re right that far, but she’s cold as ice. She’s sharp and shrewd and dangerous. She’s three times as smart as you are and a whole lot meaner. This is one time you should fold your cards and get out of the game. You’re bucking a stacked deck.”

“Maybe.” He dismissed the thought with a gesture. “But you and me. If we worked together.” He looked up suddenly, staring right into my eyes. “I think you know something. I think you have the key. There’s millions in this—”

“I am not interested in money.”

His impatience was obvious. “Nonsense! All men are interested in money. There’s talk of millions in gold, but that’s for children. The money is in that railroad and I am the one who can put it all together.”

“No,” I said.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

I swung my feet to the floor, still keeping my hand on my gun. “All I want is to ride out of here.”

He could not believe it, and given his viewpoint, would not believe it. When I started to get up he motioned me to sit down again. “Albro had it all worked out. He had the route surveyed, he had the money to get started, he had every step planned. He was a very thorough man. Now he has passed on, God rest his soul, but the work must go forward. Nathan had no legitimate heirs, so why not us?”

“What do you mean, no legitimate heirs? How can you be sure?”

“You mean Anne? She’s only a stepdaughter, and he never liked her.”

“He left no will?”

“No, of course not. The man died suddenly. He had no chance to make a will.”

The thought, I could see, was one he did not like to consider. A will would have wrecked all his plans. First, he had hoped to find Anne and to gain control through her. Now that it seemed unlikely, he was reaching for any straw, unwilling to let the chance slip from his grasp.

“You’re wasting your time, Henry,” I said. “I want no part of this. I’m riding out of here tomorrow or the next day, probably tomorrow, and I’m not coming back.

“Too many men have died over this affair, and all for nothing. From the beginning, none of you had a chance.