IT WAS JUST on sundown when Calder loomed in the distance. Seeing it in the fading sunlight across well-grassed country, Buck Halliday was impressed. Four streets running north and south and four bisecting them divided the town into sections of such equal area that he knew a lot of thought had gone into its planning.
Behind the town were foothills and to the west, a wide and fast-flowing river. The railroad depot had been sensibly built to the east of the town, leaving the prairie lands as easy access to the town itself. Across those grasslands, ranchers and cattle outfits could bring in their herds without choking the town with dust. And that, Halliday decided, was about the most sensible thing he had ever encountered in a frontier town.
“Where to exactly, Mrs. Findlay?” Halliday asked as he drew rein on the outskirts of town, and watched the early evening bustle in the main street.
“Someplace where I can clean up.” She thought for a moment, then pointed in the direction of one of the cross streets. “Hailey’s Rooming House. I’ll spend the night there.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to head for home?” Halliday asked. “Let your husband know you’re safe?”
“I’ll send word out to him and he can come and fetch me in the morning. I’m so tired I can’t go another inch.”
Halliday left it at that and headed his sorrel across the main street and entered the wide, deeply-rutted thoroughfare which Norrie pointed out. When they were halfway along the cross street, Norrie pointed to her right and said;
“Just there. That’s the place.”
Halliday saw a brightly-lit entrance to a carpeted room, and an old man leaning against the doorjamb. The place looked as old as the man himself but a hell of a lot cleaner.
“Doesn’t look fancy enough for somebody of your standing,” Halliday said as he turned his sorrel in to the hitchrack.
Norrie removed her arms from around his waist and slipped to the ground. She spent a minute fixing her skirt, then pulled his old shirt tightly around her body.
“Nancy’s a friend of mine, and she’s about the same size. I can borrow some of her clothes and return your shirt.”
“There’s no hurry,” Halliday said, remaining in the saddle. The old man looked Norrie up and down then spat from the side of his mouth, and said quietly;
“Folks been lookin’ all over fer you, Mrs. Findlay.”
Norrie ignored him, stepped up onto the boardwalk, then turned to face Halliday.
“Will you wait for the shirt? I won’t be long.”
“I’ll give you a half-hour, Mrs. Findlay, then we’ll say our goodbyes.”
Norrie looked at him keenly and shot a hard glance at the old man. She seemed to be on the point of saying something to him, then changed her mind and went inside. When Halliday heard her calling for her friend, he asked the old man;
“If you were as dry as a salt kiln, where would you head, old-timer?”
The old man looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned his weathered face to look into the foyer.
“I’m always that dry, stranger,” he said.
“Then maybe you’d show me the way.”
“You got yourself a guide.”
He pushed himself off the post, hitched his trousers up, then hearing voices from inside, went to the doorway and called out;
“Be gone a spell, girl.”
A soft voice then asked;
“Where to grandfather?”
“Where else?”
He stepped down and led the way up the street.
Halliday swung out of the saddle and followed him, leading his sorrel, but had only gone a few yards when a young woman ran out of the rooming house and called out;
“You promised, grandfather!”
The old-timer waved back at her but kept walking. When Halliday looked back at the woman, he saw she was slimly-proportioned and neatly-attired in blouse and tweed skirt. She stood with her shapely legs planted firmly on the boardwalk, her long, blonde hair cascading down over her shoulders. It was plain that she was annoyed and it showed when she leveled accusing eyes on him.
Halliday shrugged his shoulders and continued on.
It took them only a few minutes to reach the top of an alley. Another short walk brought them to the side door of a saloon.
“I’m a whiskey man, myself,” the old man said.
“You and me both,” Halliday nodded.
He hitched his horse in a yard and followed the old man inside. At a rye-stained, badly-scarred counter, Halliday ordered the drinks and paid for them. The old-timer gulped his down, smacked his lips in appreciation and sighed.
“Where’d you find her, mister?”
“Just off the train tracks, six, seven hours ride back toward Butte Creek.”
“She with two bad-asses?”
Halliday shook his head and started on his drink. The old-timer pursed his lips thoughtfully, picked up his glass again and drained it thoroughly.
“She weren’t just sittin’ out there waitin’ for you to ride along, was she?”
Halliday finished his drink and pushed more money across the counter. The old-timer’s face brightened and he went on to answer his own question.
“Nope, I bet she weren’t, not Norrie Findlay. I know plenty about her. She drops by every time she’s in town and talks plenty to my granddaughter, though most of what I hear don’t make sense to me.”
“It probably wouldn’t make sense to me, either,” Halliday said disinterestedly.
The old-timer picked up his second drink and downed it with the same speed with which he’d dispatched the first.
“Word got around that she was drug off by a couple badasses and folks got stirred up enough to get a posse together and go after ’em. Sheriff come back on the train empty-handed, yet you ride in with Mrs. Findlay, cool as all get out. You gonna tell me all about it?”
Halliday put his back to the bar and surveyed the scene around him. The place was half-full of a motley crowd made up of cowpunchers, store clerks, and the occasional businessman.
When Dave Wilder pushed his way through the batwings, the hubbub died away. He looked around the room until he saw Halliday, then strode over to join him at the bar.
“You got some explainin’ to do, mister,” he said tersely. “An’ plenty of it.”
Halliday noticed the old-timer move away from him, and felt the curious stares of the crowd settling on him. “I have?”
“It’s so and don’t be offhanded with me. Last time I saw you, you were sitting a horse watching the train we were on disappear. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I had the impression you were headin’ for Butte Creek.”
“That was my intention,” Halliday said easily.
Wilder’s face tightened, and behind him, Halliday saw somebody move. A closer inspection revealed his deputy, and he was looking anything but friendly. Will Burdick moved closer and positioned himself halfway down the bar, shouldering a man out of the way so that the space between himself, Wilder and Halliday was clear.
“So how come?” Wilder said.
“How come I’m here? Is that what you want to know, Sheriff?” Halliday queried.
“That’s about it.”
Halliday shrugged and leaned his weight back on one elbow. “You probably already know that I just rode in with Mrs. Findlay?”
“I do.”
“Well, why don’t you ask her then?” Halliday asked.
Wilder’s eyes darkened. “Because she’s tryin’ to wash all the grime off herself. So I figgered your story would be a good place to start.”
“It’s a simple enough story, Sheriff,” Halliday said, and told it, leaving out his pleasant interlude with Norrie and Hash Tovey’s appearance.
“Dammit, how could that be?” Wilder finally grated.
Halliday shrugged again. “She just came off the train right into my lap and begged me to bring her back here. That’s what I did, and if that’s a crime ... I’m guilty as charged.”
Wilder looked back down the bar at Will Burdick, who stood with his hands on his hips, disbelief showing in his eyes. Getting no response from his deputy, the sheriff said sourly;
“We found you in the hills, and you told a story I swallowed. But next minute you turn up with a woman half the county’s been out lookin’ fer. Somethin’ don’t set right.”
Halliday sighed and slid his empty glass back onto the bar. From the very beginning, he had sensed that Norrie would be trouble, and it seemed he’d been right. He said;
“What part troubles you, Sheriff?”
“All of it. She was reported missin’, though nobody saw her taken and there were no signs of a struggle on her place or on the trail. Then just when I decided to give up the search, she shows up back here ’cause you say she fell from a train right into your lap. So I say somethin’ smells and it might be a real big stink.”
Will Burdick came forward then, looking sure of himself.
“Added to that, nobody saw her board the train, and the train was searched thoroughly. So we start to come up with a lot of holes, Halliday.”
Halliday eyed the man coolly and said, “Then I suggest we all go see Mrs. Findlay and let her tell us how it was. Agreed?”
Wilder pinched his chin with thumb and forefinger, and again checked with Burdick.
His deputy looked around, but sensing that the matter was of no interest to anybody else in the place, he growled;
“Yeah, we’ll do that, Halliday. Meantime, I’ll have your gun.”
“Why?” Halliday asked, calmly.
“On account Sam’s been burnin’ up for some time with suspicions about his wife and another man, and could be, you’re that man.”
He held out his hand.
Halliday checked with Wilder, who merely shrugged, so he unbuckled his gunbelt and handed it across, then elbowed the deputy aside and headed for the swing doors.
He heard them following him as he led the way through the batwings and strode along the boardwalk to the alley where he’d left his sorrel. But when he reached the fence where he’d tethered it, it was no longer there.
“Your horse is bein’ well looked after,” Wilder told him.
Halliday eyed him sourly, and said, “You want to check the brand and make sure it’s not stolen?”
“That’s bein’ done right this very minute.”
Halliday walked down the alley to a back street and along the boardwalk to the rooming house. Nancy’s grandfather, who had left the saloon before them, was there, leaning against an overhang when he asked;
“See anythin’ of my old friend, Hash Tovey?”
Wilder moved ahead of Halliday, leaving Burdick to bring up the rear.
“When Hash runs outta steam, he’ll be back. Where else can he go?”
“He ain’t a thief,” the old-timer said. “He’s got plenty of imagination but he ain’t a thief.”
“Two witnesses,” Wilder said, and moved into the foyer of the building.
When he followed Wilder inside, Halliday was aware that the place smelled fresh and clean, despite the old carpet and furnishings. Burdick palmed a bell on the counter, and when he turned to survey Halliday more closely, he said;
“She was wearin’ your shirt, Halliday. That supposed to tell me anythin’?”
Halliday said nothing. Then footsteps sounded from a room on the right and the young woman appeared, looking flustered. She gave both Wilder and Burdick a quick nod, then looked steadily at Halliday.
“Norrie will be down in a minute,” she said, and fidgeted nervously with the waistband of her skirt. “I sincerely hope you’ll be gentle with her, Sheriff Wilder. She’s been through a terrible ordeal.”
“Haven’t we all?” Wilder said, then looked pointedly at Halliday. “But mebbe some of us didn’t have it all that bad.”
“Meaning?” Halliday retorted.
Wilder shrugged. “I’ll think of somethin’ later, mebbe.”
He moved away, studying the lobby studiously as if he’d never seen it before. But the truth was he often called in here, mostly on the pretense of business. And although he hadn’t made his feelings known to Nancy, he had more than a passing interest in her, and she often filled his thoughts. He wondered now if he’d ever find the courage to make an approach to her, and if he did, what success he would have.
An overpowering smell of perfume suddenly permeated the room, and with it came Norrie Findlay. She was wearing a freshly laundered dress that was at least one size too small for her.
“Sheriff Wilder,” she said. “Deputy Burdick.” Then she came across to Halliday and smiled. “I have a lot to thank you for, Mr. Halliday, and I intend to repay you for your kindness.” Wilder frowned heavily and cleared his throat.
“We ran across this jasper around noon yesterday, Mrs. Findlay, and he gave us a fanciful story about bein’ on the drift an’ just passin’ through. Said he wasn’t connected with anybody in these parts. Yet tonight he—”
Norrie laughed, anticipating the extent of the lawman’s concern.
“Why would you think anything untoward, Dave?”
Wilder couldn’t find anything to do with his hands, so he clamped them on the buckle of his gunbelt.
“’Cause he suddenly stopped driftin’.”
“To help me,” Norrie said quickly, and looked at Halliday, her eyes gleaming. “Haven’t you told them how you found me, Buck, and how you brought me home?”
“I’ve told them,” Halliday said.
Norrie turned back to Wilder. “Well, then, what’s this meeting for, Dave? What else do you need to know?”
“Not just ‘what else’... I want the whole story.”
Nancy had gone behind her counter and was busy folding napkins and trying not to look in Halliday’s direction. All she knew about him was that somehow, in a mysterious way, he had caught Norrie’s fancy and she had made no attempt to disguise it. Even now, Nancy thought her manner was brazen for a married woman. And in front of Wilder and Burdick! But then, she granted, that was Norrie’s way—unwittingly a temptress. Unwittingly ...?
Norrie was relating her adventures from the moment she’d escaped from Ike Teller and Col Winn until she’d been brought back to town. Like Halliday, she made no mention of their passion nor the meeting with Hash Tovey. Halliday thought that strange, but figured she had a reason for it—maybe just to protect the oldster. When she had finished, Wilder scowled blackly at Burdick and growled;
“Adds up, Will.”
Burdick wouldn’t have a bar of it.
“Like hell it does, Sheriff. To me it still smells. Halliday here—”
“Forget him,” Wilder said shortly. “It’s Teller and Winn we’re after.”
Burdick straightened and threw out his jaw, his face drawn as tight as rawhide.
“And how in hell do we find ’em when we don’t even know ’em?”
“I know ’em,” Wilder admitted and stole a glance at Nancy to find her watching him curiously. He smothered a curse and moved toward the front door.
Burdick made no attempt to follow him, but called out, “You know them? How in hell?”
“Ran into ’em on the train when I was lookin’ for Mrs. Findlay,” Wilder said over his shoulder, obviously not prepared to elaborate. When he reached the doorway he turned back and spoke directly to Halliday.
“You got my apology, Halliday, but I’ll be happier when you’re no longer around.”
Halliday had no time to answer. Wilder strode off, with Burdick in tow.
When their footsteps died away, Norrie gave a drawn-out sigh and said;
“Well, now that’s over, perhaps we can relax a little.”
She took Nancy’s arm and headed for the big room on the right, adding;
“Come, Buck, we all need a drink and you’ve got to get to know my very good friend, Nancy. My, what a couple of days!”
Halliday stood his ground, and said;
“Thanks, but I guess I’ll be moseying along.”
“You will do nothing of the kind, Buck,” Norrie said quickly. “Surely you don’t intend to take any notice of Dave’s stupid comment, do you? Why, as soon as Sam learns what you did, he’ll open this whole town to you. Now don’t be such a bore and hold up our celebrations.”
Before Halliday could answer, Nancy voiced a protest. “Perhaps, Norrie, Mr. Halliday—”
“Rubbish,” Norrie said, and came back to take Halliday’s arm.
Halliday merely shrugged and went with her.
They passed through the big room, which he saw now was a dining room and entered a smaller room that overlooked a back porch. As if the place was her own, Norrie arranged three chairs around a small table then opened a cupboard and rummaged around inside while Nancy stood tight-lipped, pointedly averting her gaze from Halliday.
Just when Norrie produced a bottle and three glasses and turned to say something to Nancy, the door to the porch opened and a tall, dark-haired man with the cut and smell of the range about him, stepped inside.
Norrie gasped, and almost dropped the bottle. But after a quick look at Halliday and Nancy, she immediately forgot her shock and regained her composure again.
“Jim,” she said as she placed the bottle on the table. “Has the news reached home already?”
The man stared intently at Halliday for a moment, before he acknowledged Nancy’s presence with a curt nod.
“I heard you were back,” he said, turning to Norrie.
“Who told you?” Norrie asked and Halliday had the feeling that tension lurked just below the surface.
“Dave. I just passed him in the street. He’s on the hunt for two men named Winn and Teller. What happened?”
“It’s a long story, Jim. What brought you to town anyway?” The question appeared to throw the man off-balance, and he moved his mouth soundlessly as he sought for a suitable answer. Finally, the words came.
“Sam wanted to stay at the ranch in case news of your whereabouts arrived.”
“Dear Sam,” Norrie said, and smiled. “Has he been worried?”
“Of course he has, especially when a ransom note turned up.”
“Ransom?”
“Sam said he’d pay just as long as he got you back safe and sound.” He sucked in a breath dejectedly and Halliday gained the impression that something which might have been good, had now gone bad for him. “But I guess Sam can keep his money now, can’t he?”
“Yes, he can,” Norrie said quickly. “I’m back and unhurt, thanks to Buck.” She smiled generously at Halliday, then added, “But you haven’t met Buck, have you, Jim? Buck Halliday, Jim Mitchell, Sam’s top hand.”
Mitchell’s face tightened a little. Halliday gave him a nod and received a cold stare in return. Mitchell then turned back to Norrie, and said;
“I think we’d best head home, Mrs. Findlay, and set Sam’s mind at rest.”
Norrie frowned, pursing her lips as if surprised by the suggestion.
“No, Jim, you go on home and tell Sam I’m all right. No need for him to come and get me in the morning, because Buck will take me home. If I can talk him into it, he’s going to work for us.”
Halliday had no chance to refute this arrangement before Mitchell said;
“We’re putting off hands this time of year, Mrs. Findlay, not puttin’ them on.” He looked straight at Halliday, not waiting for any argument from Norrie and seemingly not expecting one. “For the rest, we’re obliged to you, Halliday, little and all as you did.” He dug his hand into his pocket and brought out a roll of bills. “Fifty enough to cover your expenses?”
Norrie swung around and glared at him, but Halliday looked at him levelly and said quietly;
“No call for you to pay me for seein’ Mrs. Findlay safe back home. My time’s my own.”
Mitchell accepted this without argument, shrugged and returned the greenback and the roll to his pocket.
“Please yourself,” he said, then turned to face Norrie again and say;
“If you’re ready, Mrs. Findlay, we’ll start out for home.”
Color rose in Norrie’s cheeks when she said;
“I told you, Jim, I’m staying the night in town with Nancy. Now have a drink with us or ride on home to Sam and make your report.”
“You should come with me, Mrs. Findlay,” he said tightly, and the intensity of his stare made the words sound like an order.
But Norrie matched his look and shook her head emphatically, then she said as if dismissing him;
“That will be all, Jim. Tell Sam I’m very tired and need a good night’s rest. Tell him not to worry, and that I’ll see him in the morning.”
Mitchell half-closed his eyes, glanced at Nancy, then fixed a hard stare on Halliday.
After what seemed an interminable time, but was in reality only a half-minute, Mitchell drew in a quick breath, swung on his heels and headed for the porch door. But before he stepped outside, Norrie called after him;
“Wait, Jim, I’ll walk with you and explain.”
To Nancy and Buck Halliday, she said;
“I won’t be long. He’s so protective because he’s so loyal to Sam.”
With that, she left the room. Then Halliday looked at Nancy and said;
“Drink, ma’am?”
Nancy was still looking toward her front door, but now she turned back to him and smiled uneasily.
“Well, just one, with a lot of water.”
Halliday poured a shot for her and a double for himself. He added water from a pitcher and handed her the glass.
“To a quiet evening,” he said.
She smiled again, a little friendlier this time.