Sunset Trail (9 page)

VIII

When Jerry Corrigan left town with Jean, he drove directly to the ridge overlooking the dam site. There he pulled up and kissed
Jean, and then put an arm around her and drew her to him. Amoment later she went to sleep on his shoulder. He sat motionlessly,
not wanting to disturb her; he thought about his future and wondered how any man could be as lucky as he was.

His ranch was downstream on the south side of the creek, 160 acres of land that would be irrigated when the project was finished.
That would be soon, now that the money had been raised. The strange part of it was a few years ago no one had thought about
building a dam on Buffalo Creek and nothing but sheer luck had caused him to select that particular quarter-section.

Not long ago his place was considered almost worthless. The only thing it had been good for was range, and you couldn’t run
many head of cattle on a quarter-section covered by sagebrush, Spanish bayonet, and a little buffalo grass.

Now, with the completion of the project assured, his homestead was worth a small fortune. He was not going to run for sheriff
in the fall, and, as soon as his term was over, he and Jean would move onto his place. There was only a soddy there now, but
he could borrow any reasonable amount from the bank to improve it. The fact that the president of the bank, Matt Dugan, was
to be his father-in-law didn’t make any difference. Only one thing was important. He owned a valuable piece of land.

Jean stirred in his arms. “It must be late, Jerry. We’ve got to go home.”

“Why?” he demanded. “In a month you’ll be Missus Jerry Corrigan. You’re a grown woman. It’s your business if you want to stay
out all night with me.”

Jean giggled. “Oh, yes, Mister Corrigan. I’m a grown woman, so I can violate all the rules I want to.”

“Well, can’t you? If your ma and Matt don’t trust you with me at your age. . . .”

“Jerry, be reasonable.” She straightened and drew away from him. “Of course they trust me, and the day we’re married we can
come out here and sit up all night in a buggy if that’s what you want to do. Personally I’d rather go to bed.”

“Well, yes,” he admitted, “so would I.”

“Until then, I will live at home,” she said, “and, as long as I live at home, I will have to put up with family rules.”

He was silent for a moment. He had learned a

He was silent for a moment. He had learned a great deal about family rules and family loyalty and family love in the months
since Jean had promised to marry him. He never had had a family, at least not one he could remember. His parents had died
when he was a baby, and an aunt and uncle had taken him to raise but not to love. The beatings and the man work he’d had to
do had been too much, so he had run away when he was twelve and had made his own way since.

The Dugans had taken him in as if he really were their son. He could not ask for a better relationship with anyone than he
had with Jean’s parents. He got along fine with Bud, too. Any way he looked at it, he’d be stupid to antagonize them.

“I guess you’re right about family rules,” he said, “but I hope your folks will let us make our own rules after we’re married.”

“They will, honey,” she said. “I’m sure they will. Now will you take me home and deliver me to my parents?”

“Your slightest wish is a command to be obeyed,” he said as he unwrapped the lines from the brake handle.

He spoke to the horse as he slipped an arm around her. They rode in silence for a time except for the steady
clip-clop
of hoofs in the dust of the road.

“Let’s get married now,” he said suddenly. “Tomorrow. We can drive to Burlington and get married first thing in the morning.
I can’t wait a whole month.”

“You’re just trying to get out of a church wedding,” she said.

“That’s part of it,” he admitted.

“It won’t do you a bit of good, Mister Corrigan, ”she said. “As much as I want to get married, we’ll have to wait. It would
kill Mama if we ran away to get married. We will have a church wedding, Parson Hess will marry us, and we will have a reception
afterward. These coming events are unalterable, so make up your mind to live through them.”

He sighed. “I guess I’m just a dreamer.”

“You surely are,” she murmured. “Besides, you can’t go off and leave Amity without protection tomorrow.”

He thought of the governor’s coming and about what Uncle Pete Fisher had said and about the Owl Creek ranchers he had jailed,
and he wished he could go fishing and forget the whole thing. Then he wondered why he even let such a thought enter his mind.
He never had walked away from a dangerous situation and he wasn’t starting now.

“No,” he said, “I guess I can’t.”

They were in town then. Main Street was dark except for the lobby of the Amity Hotel. Corrigan turned left when he reached
the park block and a moment later pulled up in front of Jean’s home.

“Your folks must be sitting up for you, with all those lamps lighted,” he said. “They usually just keep the hall lamp lighted
for you, don’t they?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I don’t know why they’d be sitting up for me tonight.” She hesitated, then added: “Unless there’s some
kind of trouble.”

“Maybe Matt’s not back from the meeting yet,” Corrigan said as he stepped down.

He walked around the rig and gave Jean a hand, then opened the gate that
squealed
as loudly as ever, and stood to one side while Jean went through. He held her hand as they walked up the path. When they reached
the front door, he took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

“I got short-changed on the kissing tonight,” he said. “You went to sleep on me.”

“It was just that I had such a nice shoulder to sleep on,” she said. “I’ll make it up to you right now.”

She did. A moment later he said: “Now I’ll go to my room and see if I can get my breath back.”

She opened the door and giggled as she patted his cheeks. “You do that, darling,” she said. “Now come in and say good night
to my folks if they’re still up.”

He followed her into the hall. She stopped when she reached the door into the front room. He heard Nora say: “We have a surprise,
Jean. Your cousins, John and Sammy, got in a little while ago. They’re here for the celebration tomorrow. You know, I don’t
think you ever met them.”

Jerry stopped behind Jean. He was almost as surprised as she was because he had never heard her mention any cousins named
John and Sammy. The one Nora had called John rose and came to them, his hand extended.

“If I had known I had a cousin as attractive as you,” he said, “I’d have been here a long time ago.” He shook hands with Jean
and turned to Jerry and offered his hand. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m sorry,” Nora said quickly. “Jerry Corrigan, our sheriff. Jerry, this is my sister’s son, John Smith.” She motioned to
the second man. “Sammy Bean, meet Sheriff Corrigan.

Jerry shook hands with Smith, then Bean, and decided he didn’t like either man. Maybe it was because they had moved in on
the Dugans without warning on a day when they didn’t have time to entertain guests.

“I had better explain how it is,” Smith said to Jean, smiling. “You see, my mother was a sort of black sheep. She was much
older than your mother and ran away from home with my father.He died, and she married Hank Bean, Sammy’s father. My mother
and Nora never had much to do with each other, but I took a chance on Nora being big-hearted and putting us up for the night.”
He turned to Corrigan. “I understand the hotel is full.”

“That’s right,” Corrigan said.

Jean’s face was pale. She glanced at Corrigan who stood beside her, then at her mother. “I never heard of any cousins with
your names,” she said, turning to Smith. “Or of your black sheep mother.”

“I never talked about them,” Nora said quickly. “It’s like John said. We never had much to do with each other.”

“As a matter of fact,” Smith said, “we’re here on business. Sammy and I hope to buy some cattle if we can get them for the
right price. We’ll be leaving after the celebration tomorrow. Next time we’ll stay long enough to get acquainted, Jean. I’m
ashamed that we waited so long to visit you.”

Corrigan turned to Matt who was lying on the couch and hadn’t said a word since the two of them had come in. He asked: “What’s
the matter with you, Matt?”

He grinned, or tried to. “I’m ashamed to admit it, Jerry, but I stumbled in front of the house. I fell down and must have
hit my head on a rock.”

“Knocked himself cold,” Smith said. “It’s a good thing we were here. I don’t know how Nora could have got him into the house
by herself.”

“We lugged him in like a sack of wool,” Sammy Bean said.

Corrigan glanced at Bean. He kept grinning as if he wasn’t quite bright. He had a gun, but that was natural enough if the
two men were cattle buyers as Smith had said.

Smith was the one that made Corrigan wonder about them. He had city written all over him. He had absolutely no family resemblance
to Bean. He was older and smoother, a very courteous man who wore a brown broadcloth suit with a gold chain across his vest.
From the way he kept fumbling with an elk tooth charm that dangled from the chain, Corrigan judged he was nervous and wondered
why.

“I’d better get along,” Corrigan said. “We’ll have a lot of excitement tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you will,” Smith said. “It isn’t every day that the governor comes to Amity.”

“That’s right,” Nora said.

“Good night,” Corrigan said, glancing at Jean and hoping she would go with him as far as the porch so he could kiss her again
before he left.

But Jean apparently wasn’t even thinking about another kiss. She stood with her back stiff, her eyes pinned on her mother.
She said: “Mama, I’d like for Jerry to spend the night here.”

“I’m sorry,” Nora said. “You know we’d love to have him any other time, but we don’t have room for him tonight. You see, they
brought a friend named Ross Hart with them. He’s going to sleep on the cot in my sewing room.”

Corrigan looked at Jean, wondering what put a crazy notion like that into her head. He wondered, too, if there was something
about these cousins that scared her, then dismissed the thought as being one of those harebrained ideas that came to her occasionally.
He guessed he was a little scared himself about what might happen tomorrow.

“No reason for me to sleep here, Jean,” Jerry said. “I’m paying for a room, so I might as well use it.”

He nodded at no one in particular and left the house, still wondering why Jean had wanted him to stay there all night when
it was plain enough the house was already overcrowded. He stepped into the buggy and drove back to Main Street and left the
rig and horse in the livery stable.

As he walked to the hotel, the name Ross Hart popped into his mind. Nora had mentioned it casually, a friend of Smith’s and
Bean’s who was going to sleep in Nora’s sewing room. “Ross Hart!” He said it aloud, telling himself that the name was familiar,
but he couldn’t pin anything to it.

He shrugged and climbed the stairs to his room. He’d think about it tomorrow. Tonight he was too tired to think about anything.

IX

No one made a move for several minutes after Jerry Corrigan left the house. Matt lay on the couch, listening for the buggy
to wheel on down the street. Nora and Jean remained where they had been when Corrigan left, their heads cocked as if they,
too, were listening. Sammy Bean stood a few feet from Jean, his right hand on the butt of his gun, his gaze on the girl. John
Smith, standing near the foot of the stairs, was the most relaxed person in the room.

“He’s gone,” Smith said after the silence had run on until it had become unbearable to Matt. “You were stupid, young lady.”
He nodded at Jean. “Next time you had better find out what the situation is before you ask the sheriff to stay overnight.”

Jean turned to stare at Smith. “It’s time somebody told me what the situation is,” she snapped. “Who are you and why are you
here?”

“I’m John Smith,” he said. “We have come to rob the bank, with your father’s assistance, of course.”

“That’s a bad joke,” she said. “I want to know why you’re here and telling this crazy lie about being my cousins.”

“It’s no joke,” Smith said, nodding at Matt. “Ask your father.”

“I’m afraid they have a plan to rob the bank, all right,” Matt said. “They think I’ll bring ten thousand dollars home at noon
tomorrow and they’ll ride out of the town with the money while everybody’s excited about the governor getting here.”

Jean’s face had turned pale. “I don’t believe this is real. I must be having a nightmare.”

“It’s not a nightmare,” Smith said, “though if any of you, including your sheriff friend, fail to cooperate, it will turn
out to be a hell of a nightmare. Believe me.” He motioned at Matt. “Stand up. I want to see if you can. Sammy may have slugged
you harder than I intended. You’ve got to be feeling good tomorrow.”

Matt rose from the couch. Again he thought his head would explode, but he stood motionlessly for a few seconds as the floor
pitched and rolled in front of him. Gradually the hammering inside his skull faded to a dull headache as the floor leveled
out so that it appeared normal.

“Are you all right?” Nora asked anxiously.

“Sure, I’m fine,” Matt answered.

“Good.” Smith nodded at Nora. “Missus Dugan, you and Jean might as well sit down. You won’t be going to bed for a while.”
He turned to Matt. “Dugan, where are your guns?”

Matt motioned toward the hall door. “Yonder in a room we call my office. Bring a lamp,” Matt suggested, and walked toward
the hall door.

He moved slowly because he was still dizzy. He stopped and clenched his fists as the floor started to whirl in front of him
again. When it stopped, he went on. Smith picked up a lamp from the center table and caught up with him, calling back to Nora:
“Missus Dugan, you explain to Jean why it will be a nightmare if she doesn’t co-operate!”

Smith followed Matt across the hall into the room on the other side. It was furnished with a desk, a swivel chair, a small
table, and two rawhide-bottom chairs. A small safe was in one corner. Three deer heads were on the wall. A shotgun and two
rifles were racked on the antlers. A Colt .45 in a holster attached to a cartridge belt hung from a nail near the door.

Smith took the shotgun and rifles down from the antler racks and pulled the revolver from the holster. He asked: “These the
only guns in the house?”

“That’s right,” Matt answered.

“If you’re lying and I find a hide-out gun . . .,”Smith began.

“Let me tell you something once and for all.” Matt leaned against the wall, his knees threatening to turn to rubber. “I served
a term as sheriff and I’ve ridden with a dozen posses. I’ve taken several men to the state pen, and I can honestly say I never
met a man I wanted to kill as much as I do you. If I get a chance, I’ll do it with my bare hands, but not until I can do it
without putting my family in danger. As long as they are in danger, I’ll do exactly what you tell me.”

“Good,” Smith said. “I’m not concerned what you think of me or the safety of your family, but I am concerned about the success
of our plan. We have worked on it too long to fail, now that we’re this close to succeeding.” He gestured toward the front
room. “Wake Bud up and have him dress. Then bring him downstairs.”

“How do you come to know so much about us?” Matt asked.

“Let’s say I’ve been informed,” Smith said. “It was part of the plan. We’ll let it go at that. I think you and your family
will be safer if you don’t know any more.”

They returned to the front room, Smith setting the lamp down on the table and the guns in a corner. Matt crossed to the stairs
and started to climb them, not stopping until Nora cried: “What are you going to do?”

“Smith told me to wake Bud and have him dress,” Matt said, pausing on the third step and looking back at Nora.

She whirled to face Smith. “Why?” she demanded. “Do you have to bring a boy into this . . . this terrible scheme of yours?”

“Yes, I have to,” Smith said. “You will all be safer because I am bringing a boy into it. You might call him a hostage. He’s
our guarantee you will cooperate. I admire your courage, Missus Dugan, but not your judgment. As long as the boy is our hostage,
you will co-operate. Otherwise, you might be tempted to do something that would bring disaster to all of you.”

Nora’s hands were fisted at her sides; her face was white and drawn, and her temples were throbbing as if the blood was threatening
to break out. Matt, knowing the violence of her temper, was afraid she would do something foolish now.

“Nora,” Matt said sharply, and came back down the stairs and crossed the room to her. “Listen to me.” He took her hands and
found they were as cold as if she had just soaked them in ice water. “I’ve told Smith I’d kill him if I had a chance to do
it without putting my family in danger, but until I get that chance, I’ll do exactly what he tells me. I want you to do the
same.”

Nora swallowed, staring at Smith with a venomous hatred. She nodded slowly. “All right, Matt,” she whispered.

Jean had dropped into a chair. She rose and, coming to her mother, put an arm around her. “Let’s sit down on the couch,” Jean
said. “Let’s try to do what Dad says.”

Nora let herself be led to the couch. Matt waited till they sat down. When he was sure that Nora had regained control of herself,
he turned and climbed the stairs. He found a man sitting at their head, a Winchester across his knees. Matt stopped, surprised
that he was there.

that he was there.

In spite of all the talk about Ross Hart, Matt had not fully grasped the fact that the man was actually in the house, or that
he had been watching the scene below him in the front room. Now for the first time Matt understood why Smith had been so sure
of himself. If Jerry Corrigan had caught on to what was happening and had drawn his gun, Hart would have cut him down at once.

A bracket lamp was burning about ten feet down the hall. When Matt stopped, Hart turned his head and grinned, a wicked grin
that mocked Matt. His face was dark, but his eyes were pale blue. They might have been made of glass, there was so little
expression in them.

“He gave you the notion I’m a son-of-a-bitch, didn’t he?” Hart asked.

“He’s given me the notion you all are,” Matt said. “Oh, John ain’t,” Hart said. “He’s real polite and he don’t like to kill
nobody. Sammy, he’s just an idiot. I’m different. I’m a genuwine son-of-a-bitch from a way back and don’t you forget it.”

Matt went on past him to Bud’s door. He stepped inside and closed the door, discovering that he was shaking as if he were
coming down with chills and fever. He fished a match out of his vest pocket, feeling as if he had come into contact with something
that was so obscene it was unbearable. He waited until he stopped shaking. Lighting a lamp on the boy’s bureau, he turned
to the bed and shook Bud awake.

The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes, asking: “Ain’t morning yet, is it?”

“No,” Matt said. “Get up and dress.”

Bud shook his head to clear the cobwebs away, then rubbed his eyes and swung his feet on the floor. Suddenly he seemed to realize
something was wrong. He put on his shirt, staring at Matt. He started to button it, asking: “What’s up, Pa?”

“All hell broke loose,” Matt said. “You won’t believe it when I tell you.”

As Bud finished dressing, Matt told him as briefly as he could what had happened. Bud listened, his face becoming grave. He
was a tall boy, almost as tall as his father, but still gawky and leggy from the rapid growth that often hits a boy in his
middle teens. He had been working on the ranch since school was out and had come home the evening before for the celebration.
Now Matt wished he had stayed at the ranch.

“What do they want me for?” Bud asked as he tugged on his boots.

“I don’t know,” Matt answered, “except to say you’re a hostage. I feel like hell taking you downstairs, but we’ve got to play
their game for a while.”

“I could get through the window,” Bud whispered. “You could stay in here and they wouldn’t know I was gone. I could have Jerry
back here in five minutes.”

Matt shook his head. “Bud, believe me about this. There’s three of them. They’re killers. I know the kind. We’ve got to take
their orders until something happens that gives us a chance. Maybe we’ll all get killed playing it safe this way, but I know
we’ll get killed if we jump them before that something happens. Now, come on.”

“You can’t let them rob the bank,” Bud said.

Matt met the boy’s gaze. He said: “I can’t let them murder your mother and Jean, either. At first I didn’t believe they would,
but I do now. Come on, I tell you.”

He left the room, Bud following, and went along the hall and down the stairs, ignoring Ross Hart as he passed him.