ON HASH TOVEY’S recommendation, Ben Hailey had hidden out in an alley running off the back street of Calder. As soon as Tovey left him, he flattened himself against a fence and listened to the sounds coming from further down the alley. He heard talk, but wasn’t close enough or of good enough hearing to catch exactly what was being said. But at one point he heard a laugh that was followed by a heavy thud. Moments later, he saw two men coming toward him, one carrying an unconscious man over his shoulder.
Hailey pressed back deeper into cover and stood stock still, clutching his rifle to his chest. In his younger days, he would never have tried to avoid trouble of any kind, and in a way, he was annoyed with Tovey for getting him involved in all this in the first place. He’d sooner have gone to the saloon for a couple of drinks so he could get rid of the sour taste that his shooting at Halliday had left in his mouth.
Hell, if Halliday got wise to the fact that it was he who’d fired the rifle, at Tovey’s suggestion, the big man would tear him apart. Halliday sure had the size and meanness to do it.
When the two men went silently past him, Hailey followed at a safe distance and saw them dump the man over a rail of the corral. Then the one who’d been carrying the man slipped under the rails and in the faint light at the end of the street, Hailey saw a gun, held by the barrel, go crashing down on the man’s head. He didn’t need a closer look to know what had happened.
Cold sweat came onto his brow and he was looking for a place to hide when the two men came striding toward him. Too late, he realized that the light which had enabled him to see the unconscious man being clubbed was also enough for them to see him. Then a voice snarled;
“You there!”
Ben felt sweat sting his old eyes and run down the deep creases in his weather-beaten face. Then they were in front of him, one on either side, their guns leveled. Terrified, he said; “Wh-what you want with me?”
One came closer, peering intently into his face. Then he cursed savagely.
“It’s that old bastard who tags along with Hash Tovey.”
Ben shook his head fearfully. “No, you got me wrong, mister. I was just standin’ here takin’ in the night air. I never seen nothin’ nor heard nothin’.”
Winn pushed his gun up under Ben’s almost fleshless jaw. “Never seen nothin’ nor heard nothin’.” He repeated Ben’s words, and laughed hoarsely. “That, old man, I ain’t about to believe.”
“You ... you gotta believe me. Hash and me, we ain’t...” Ben’s cracked, old voice trailed off when he realized his mistake, but when Teller tried to wrench the rifle out of his hands, he swung the weapon, hoping to knock the big man out of his way. The stock struck Teller on the side of the jaw and brought a savage curse from him. But other than enrage the big man, the blow had little effect.
Teller pulled the rifle from Ben’s grip, hit him under the jaw with the barrel, and as the old man crashed into the fence, Teller pushed the rifle against his stomach and fired.
“No, dammit!” Col Winn called out, but was too late.
Then, as the echo of the gunshot began to fade, Winn urgently pulled Ike Teller away from Ben Hailey and hissed;
“Let’s get outta here, pronto!”
Teller glared savagely at him, but then hurled the rifle at Ben’s prostrate body and followed Winn back across the street. They had just reached the mouth of the saloon alley when first Tovey, then Halliday, came running down the street from the northern end of town.
Winn looked quickly around him, found a break in the fence that ran the length of the alley, crawled through it and called for Teller to follow him. Once in the high grass of the yard, Winn pushed Teller down and whispered in his ear;
“Lie still. We’ll get out of it yet.”
“Better if we shoot that other old bastard and that feller with him,” Teller said.
“No,” Winn argued. “We’ve done all the killin’ we’re gonna do for one night. What we got to do now is lay low till we get a chance to take Mrs. Findlay. Then we’ll do everythin’ just as we planned. Okay?”
Teller didn’t respond. He lay there, his face a mask as anger boiled inside him.
Once on the killing trail, Ike Teller took a lot of stopping, and Col Winn knew it.
Sheriff Dave Wilder and Deputy Will Burdick arrived together on the run to find Buck Halliday leaning over an unmoving figure in the back street. Burdick’s anger rose so quickly he shouldered Wilder out of his way in his eagerness to get to Halliday. But Wilder pulled him back, and said;
“Easy, Will.”
“Dammit, Dave, that’s him again, makin’ more trouble.”
“Mebbe, mebbe not. Let’s see.”
Wilder stepped in front of Burdick as Halliday came to his feet, but instead of worrying about the lawmen, Halliday stared gravely back up the street toward the rooming house. He could see Nancy standing on the boardwalk, wringing her hands.
Then Hash Tovey materialized out of the darkness beyond the three big men. He gave a sudden cry of anguish, and ignoring Burdick’s attempt to grab him, knelt beside the unmoving body of his old friend.
“Ben,” he said. “Dammit, Ben!”
“He’s dead,” Halliday said. “Shot by his own rifle.”
Wilder again restrained Burdick, who was still trying to get hold of Hash Tovey. He asked quietly;
“What do you know about this, Halliday?”
“Not much, Sheriff.”
“Whatever it is, let’s have it.”
Before Halliday could answer, the seething deputy growled;
“Why not just drag the pair of them off and throw them in a cell? This is the second shooting we’ve had tonight. You let these scum—”
“Let me handle it, Will,” Wilder said firmly, and Burdick backed away, scowling at both Halliday and Tovey.
His face white as death, Tovey came shakily to his feet.
“Ben,” he groaned. “Ben’s dead.”
“Yeah, he’s dead,” Wilder said flatly. “What’s it about, Hash?”
Tovey looked forlornly at Halliday, then back down the street at Nancy, who was slowly walking toward them.
“You tell them, Halliday. Tell them the lot. I ... I’m out of it now.”
“Like hell you are,” Burdick growled. “You’re in this up to your eye teeth, and so help me—”
“For hell’s sake, Will!” Wilder snapped. “A towner’s dead. Control yourself.”
Burdick stared impatiently back at the sheriff, then snarled a curse, moved back a pace and stood over the unmoving figure on the ground.
Nancy was still fifty yards away when Halliday spoke again.
“Hash Tovey told me Ben Hailey was trailing two fellers who had a meeting with Jim Mitchell in the dark. According to Hailey’s granddaughter, he took his rifle with him.”
Wilder drew in a ragged breath, then said, “Go on.”
“It seems Mitchell waited around town after Mrs. Findlay told him to go back to the ranch. Tovey and Hailey saw him link up with two hardcases, so Tovey came lookin’ for me while Ben kept the hardcases in sight. Then we heard the gunshot.”
“Teller and Winn?” Wilder asked.
“Hash wasn’t sure,” Halliday admitted.
“Well, I am. I checked the livery stable ten minutes ago, Halliday, and two men answerin’ the description of two strangers I met on the train back to Calder had ridden in half an hour earlier. I was checkin’ ’round town for them when I heard the gunshot.”
Halliday looked at the trembling figure of Hash Tovey and couldn’t help feeling sorry for the old-timer. Then Nancy came running up, her face white with fear. Wilder waved a hand at Ben’s unmoving body and said quietly;
“I’m sorry, Miss Nancy, but your grandfather’s dead. I’m tryin’ to work out who shot him so if there’s anythin’ you can tell me—”
“Shot?” Nancy cried out, and stood shaking her head desperately. “It can’t be. He means no harm, he—”
“I’m afraid it’s true, ma’am,” Wilder said. “So if you know anythin’ which might help me find his killer, please tell me now.”
When Nancy looked accusingly at Hash, Tovey mumbled; “It’s my fault, Miss Nancy, but I didn’t mean for Ben to get shot. We was just onto somethin’, but I didn’t know Ben would try to work it out on his own. That’s why I went to get Mr. Halliday. Ben musta ... musta ...”
Nancy’s tear-stained face turned to each of them, then she knelt beside her grandfather’s body. Reaching out with one hand, she gently touched his brow, then allowed her trembling fingers to travel down over his heavily-lined cheeks. She could no longer contain her grief, and putting her head on his chest, began to sob fitfully.
Tovey knelt and put his arm around her in an effort to comfort her, and for once, Burdick had nothing to say. He moved back and looked gravely at Halliday.
Wilder motioned to Halliday and Burdick to move away, and once out of the hearing of the young woman and Tovey, he said, “Let’s have the rest of it, Halliday. And quick. What were you up to here?”
“I heard a shot, and Miss Hailey had just informed me that her grandfather had left and taken his rifle with him. I figured I might as well take a look for him.”
“Why didn’t you contact us?” Wilder asked.
“There was no time.”
“But you would have?” Wilder put to him.
Halliday rubbed his jaw and thought about it. “Maybe.”
Burdick started to protest, but Wilder silenced him with a quick gesture and stared back at Nancy and Tovey. To Burdick, he said;
“Stay with them. As soon as Nancy’s feelin’ better, help her take her grandfather’s body home. And keep Hash with you.” Burdick scowled at Halliday, then moved across to stand over Nancy and Tovey, who were still kneeling at Hailey’s side.
Wilder walked away, deep in thought, and when Halliday joined him on the other side of the street, he said;
“I think Hash was onto the truth from the beginnin’, Halliday. Which makes it imperative that we make sure nothin’ happens to Mrs. Findlay before we take her back to her husband. She’s still at Hailey’s place, isn’t she?”
“She was twenty minutes ago.”
“Then let’s look in on her, eh?”
“Us?”
“I might need you.”
He led the way down the back street while Burdick was struggling to lift Hailey’s body from the ground. Nancy had controlled her grief, but stood away from Burdick, a pathetic and sorrowful figure.
Hash Tovey moved across to her and opened his mouth to say something, but when her tear-filled eyes fell on him, he turned away, cursing under his breath.
“Give a hand here, Hash,” Burdick said.
Tovey took hold of Ben’s legs and helped carry him up the street. By then, Wilder and Halliday were some distance ahead, but there was still more than a hundred yards between them and the rooming house when a barrage of gunshots came from behind them.
Wilder heeled around as a startled Tovey dropped Hailey’s legs, causing Burdick to lose his balance and crash against the fence, still clutching the dead man’s shoulders.
His view to the rear still blocked by Nancy’s figure, Wilder moved quickly to the far side of the street, gun in hand, and Halliday went with him.
A huge figure came stumbling along the back street, firing wildly. By this time, Burdick had dropped Hailey’s body and pulled Nancy across to the fence. Then, running out into the middle of the street, he went into a crouch, gun in hand.
“Hold it, Will!” Wilder called out.
Burdick looked at him and held his fire. The figure came on, swaying, stumbling, and still firing. Then as suddenly as it had started, the shooting stopped. Being closest, he shouted;
“It’s Mitchell, Sheriff... Jim Mitchell!”
With streaks of blood down both sides of his face, Mitchell came under a streetlamp, stopped, clawed at his gunbelt for fresh bullets, then staggered another two steps and went down on his knees. The gun was jolted out of his hand but he leaned forward, grabbed it again and tried to take bullets from his gunbelt.
“He’s had it, Will. Leave him be,” Wilder said.
With that, Wilder walked slowly up the street to join Burdick, with Halliday beside him. Mitchell got one bullet out of his gunbelt, dropped it in the dust, picked it up and lifted his head to glare wildly at the three men in front of him.
“Drop the gun, Mitchell!” Wilder said authoritatively.
“Bastards, double-crossing bastards,” Mitchell croaked, pushing the single bullet into the chamber and clicking it shut.
Then he pulled back the hammer, lifted the gun, and for just a moment, his hand steadied. Then Tovey yelled out;
“You lyin’ scum, Mitchell!”
When he came running past Halliday and Wilder, Halliday reached out, grabbed him and while Tovey was struggling to get free, a gun roared. Halliday saw Mitchell’s body jolt sideways, then fall. Beside him, smoking gun in hand, Wilder sighed wearily;
“Damn fool,” he said.
Nancy cried out and hurried across to Hash Tovey, but before she could reach him, she began to sway and her knees buckled. Halliday caught her before she fell.
“Take her home, Halliday,” Wilder said quietly, “and stay with her. Hash, pull yourself together. Will, do what I told you to do earlier.”
With that, Wilder walked to where Jim Mitchell lay and turned him over with his foot. Mitchell’s graying face, handsome even in death, stared sightlessly up at him. The sheriff drew in a ragged breath and said again;
“Damn fool, mister. You wanted too much.”
Norrie Findlay heard the first gunshot and hurried out onto the balcony of her room on the first floor, then peered down into the darkness of the street.
She had bathed and applied perfume to her body, and having dismissed her ramrod for the night at least, had sat and wondered about Buck Halliday. If she possibly could, she meant to convince him to take a job at the ranch. She could see great value in that, particularly with Jim Mitchell unlikely to be around much longer.
All she had to worry about was that interfering old man, Hash Tovey. She guessed she had always known he would return to Calder and make trouble for her. But if she could find him and talk to him, possibly pay him off, perhaps he would keep his mouth shut and her husband would be none the wiser.
Happy with her scheming plan, she was impatient for Halliday’s return when that first gunshot startled her. Looking down into the street, she saw nothing for a moment, then sighted Tovey and Halliday hurrying along the dusty thoroughfare.
She was on the point of calling to Halliday when she saw Wilder and his sullen-tempered deputy come from the other end of the street.
Then she watched in alarm as eventually all four gathered near an old fence where Halliday was kneeling, inspecting a figure on the ground. Remembering the gunshot which she thought had been fired by a drunk letting off steam, she lifted her hands to her face to smother a cry. She stood there, seeing them inspect the body on the ground and rise, shaken and speechless.
She instinctively knew that the person on the ground had to be Ben Hailey. She had little time for the oldster, but she knew he meant a great deal to Nancy.
Of all the people in these parts, Nancy was the only one she called a friend. Being able to confide in her had many times enabled her to endure the indignities and insults heaped upon her by her husband. Then she saw Nancy hurrying along the street. Again Norrie was on the point of crying out, but stopped herself, not wanting to become involved.
With Mitchell becoming troublesome, and a great deal of care needed to continue deceiving her husband, Norrie began to think very deeply about her immediate future. Mitchell would have to be totally convinced that their relationship was at an end. Also, Tovey would have to be approached and possibly paid off. Then, somehow, Teller and Winn would have to be disposed of.
Norrie wrung her hands, wondering why so many things had gone wrong. She believed she deserved better fortune. Then, just as she was about to go back to her room, a tall figure came staggering out of the darkness down by the corrals.
Norrie gasped when she recognized Jim Mitchell. He’d messed up the whole plan from beginning to end, starting out by hiring two bullies, then seeing Sam got the ransom note too early. On top of that, he’d come to town without good reason and caused people to become suspicious.
Norrie sighed, then was startled when Mitchell began firing his gun at the sky.
What was wrong with him, she asked herself?
She got her answer when he tripped and fell, dropping his gun in the process.
While Mitchell scrabbled around on the ground looking for his gun, Norrie sneered. She saw streaks of blood down both sides of his face, but felt no sympathy for him. For all his talk, she suspected he wasn’t half the man he pretended to be.
Then Mitchell somehow got his gun into his hand again and began fumbling for a bullet from his gunbelt. Norrie shook her head in disgust, but suddenly tension seized her when she saw Mitchell’s hand become steady as he leveled the gun on Halliday.
Foolishly, Norrie wanted to warn him, but then a gun roared and Mitchell was blasted backward. Norrie breathed a sigh of relief. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about Mitchell anymore, she thought, as she turned and hurried back to her room.
She was taking Halliday’s freshly-laundered but still damp shirt from the end of the bed when the door burst open. Norrie wheeled and stared into the leering face of Col Winn and the sadistic eyes of Ike Teller.
Her scream could be heard all over town.