‘Am I gonna die, Doc?’
Partridge straightened and pressed one hand into his aching back, dropping bloody rags into a bucket on the cell floor.
‘Well, I wouldn’t say….’
Cole, leaning against the end of the bunk in the cell, cleared his throat. The sound caught the doctor’s attention and he paused. Cole shook his head slightly: Don’t tell him he’s not going to die!
Partridge knew what the lawman wanted from years of similar situations and turned again to the wounded man with the bandaged chest, stretched out on the bunk.
‘I wouldn’t say you were a good candidate for any long-term life insurance. Sorry, but I’ve done all I can.’
The man still had a black eye and a scabbed gash on his cheek from the fight with Cole on the Fourth of July. His skin was greyish and there was fear in his eyes. He pawed the doctor’s arm as Partridge gathered his instruments and lotions.
‘Doc, I – I can’t breathe!’ His chest was heaving but Partridge winked at Cole with the eye the wounded man couldn’t see. He mouthed the word ‘panic’, but said aloud,
‘Just lie quiet, son. It’ll make the passing a lot easier. No sense in getting fussed at a time like this.’
‘Oh, God!’ The eyes were wide now, sought out the hard-faced Cole who was casually rolling a cigarette. ‘I’m too young to die!’
‘What are you? Twenty-four, twenty-five? Hell, I seen boys sixteen, fourteen, die in my squad durin’ the War.’
‘I’m twenny-six! An’ I don’t wanna die!’
Cole shrugged, held the cell door open for the medic to pass through into the passage. ‘That’s just what your pard said after I shot him in the trees earlier.’
From the passage, the doctor said, ‘Best make a clean breast of your sins, son. Smoothe the way some. You’ll feel better, with your conscience clear. I won’t bother you with the undertaker right now. In the morning’ll do.’
Partridge moved away down the passage and the wounded man rolled his head, began to cough, clasping his chest.
‘What’s your name?’ Cole asked, as he finished making the cigarette and fumbled out a match.
‘Larry Creed.’
‘You like a last cigarette, Larry?’ Cole held out the one he had just lit. ‘Then again, guess it might tear up your lungs, and we’re trying to make things easier for you. But it’s really up to you to help yourself.’
Creed stared, wide-eyed, mouth working soundlessly.
Cole, starting to turn away, suddenly swung back. ‘You really want to unload yourself, Larry? Get some of your bad doings off your chest?’
Creed continued to stare, but when Cole shrugged and began to leave, he rasped, ‘Wait up! Don’t leave me to die alone.’
‘Sorry, Larry. I’ve got a lot of paperwork to do. I’d like to oblige you, but I guess it’s too late for that. I’ll give you a little privacy. A man should take time to think about things when he’s like you are, so close to goin’.’
‘Er – no. I wouldn’t mind you – stayin’. We could talk – for a bit.’
Cole frowned, looked uncertain. ‘Well, I dunno. I’ve got a lot of things on my mind right now, too. Like Donny Charlton’s kidnapping, and the ransom. I really don’t think I can afford the time to just sit here and—’
‘I – I can tell you somethin’ about the kid.’ Creed was eager, half-risen off the bunk now, convinced he would be dead before morning, wanting company right to the last.
‘I don’t even know who took him.’
‘Aw, we got him. I mean me an’ Mitch – my pard you just killed – and a coupla other fellers.’
‘Tells me nothing. Where?’
‘Well, we holed up in a crooked canyon in the Flintrocks.’
‘That’s a helluva big place, Larry!’
‘Yeah – we just stumbled on the place. Damn good hideout – almost at the base of the Church Spire. Know it?’
Cole did: it was a high column of basalt, tapering to a point like the spire on a church. He said nothing, drew on his cigarette, looking bored. Sitting on the edge of the bunk opposite Creed’s, he moved restlessly, as if he was thinking of moving. Creed ran a tongue around his lips, his only thought that he didn’t want to die alone; he was eager to talk so that Cole would stay put.
‘Quinlan’s behind it,’ he gasped suddenly and the sheriff had to stop himself from revealing how interested he was in this piece of information.
‘You’re joshing me. I mean, what the hell would a man like Quinlan want to kidnap Donny Charlton for?’
Creed almost smiled. ‘Got you interested now, huh? Well, Quinlan’s havin’ trouble with Devlin. Wants more money and Devlin won’t cough up. So he got this idea of kidnappin’ Charlton’s brat. You know – a bank president, rich wife. They ought to be willin’ to pay up, he figures. An’ plenty.’
‘Well, twenty thousand’s sure a heap of money.’ Cole hoped he spoke with the right amount of reverence.
Creed did smile now, not noticing any pain, having virtually forgotten his wound. ‘Shucks – that’s only the start!’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘They pay up, but Quinlan holds onto the kid – asks for another twenty thousand. You get it?’
Cole got it, all right. It was the kind of lousy deal Quinlan would pull. ‘When’s the ransom got to be paid? And how?’
‘Ask Charlton. He’s got all the details.’
Suddenly Creed narrowed his eyes, felt the bandages covering his chest wound. He rubbed them gently, frowned, staring at Cole. Then his face blackened as a thundercloud settled above it. He wasn’t feeling any worse!
‘Just a minute, you miserable son of a bitch. I ain’t dyin’ at all, am I! You and that stinkin’ sawbones – you blame well tricked me! Judas priest—’ His chest was heaving now with emotion. His words began to tumble over themselves, his anger so great he didn’t finish all the syllables in one word before trying to spit out another.
‘I’ve heard of fellers getting delirious just before they die, Larry. You best go easy. You’re talking gibberish.’
‘Christ, Cole! If I had a gun! A club! Anythin’! I’d pound your head flat!’
‘Bet you would, too. Why’d you and Mitch come to Barberry? You bring another note?’
‘Go ride off a cliff! I wish we’d kicked your face in at the hoedown!
‘You seem to’ve recovered pretty well, Larry.’ Cole dropped the cigarette and crushed it under a boot. ‘Guess you ain’t gonna tell me anything else, but I know a bit more now. You’ll live to hang yet.’
Creed tried to struggle off the bunk as Cole unlocked the door and stepped out of the cell, but he was hurt, though far from fatally, and he sagged back, gasping. He swore savagely as the key turned in the lock.
‘You – you ain’t gettin’ away with this, Cole, damn your eyes!’
‘Maybe you better not kick up too big a fuss, Creed. If Quinlan gets to hear we got you prisoner, and wounded … Yeah, that’s better. Relax. Someone’ll bring you breakfast come morning. Now, get yourself a good night’s sleep.’
Grating curses followed the sheriff all the way down to the front office.
‘What the hell did Creed mean, saying you had all the details about paying the ransom, Linus?’
Cole glared down at the banker seated behind his desk, the piles of money covered with a green-baize cloth. Charlton looked highly nervous in the lamplight. He fiddled with the wick control, sat back, then immediately leaned forward and slopped some whiskey into a glass. He tossed it down, coughed once, looked hard at the sheriff.
‘You want one, you’ll have to drink from the bottle. I don’t have another glass.’
‘I don’t want any, Linus – and you better quit. You make a mistake with your figures counting that money and you will be in a heap of trouble with your head office.’
It had taken a threat of blowing the lock off Linus’s office door with a shotgun before the rattled banker would open up and allow the sheriff to enter.
‘Creed says you know about paying the ransom. How? And I mean “how do you know”?’
Charlton started to reach for the bottle again, changed his mind. He seemed to make a decision – or just remembered something. He reached into a desk drawer, waved a creased and grimy sheet of paper at Cole.
‘I found this after I’d closed the side door on you earlier. Creed or Mitch must’ve pushed it under just before you jumped them.’
Cole frowned. Well, it sure wasn’t Mitch – he was much too far away. But had Creed been close enough to push the note under the door? Hard to tell in the semi-dark, and then Mitch had tried to club him, and there was shooting….
Cole took the paper and smoothed it on the banker’s desk. He recognized the same printing as on the previous notes.
Tomorrow night. Right after moonset Birdwing Wells. North edge. Round rock broke on one side leave money under then get out we’ll be watching If money OK kid’ll be returned if not OK you only get part of him
Cole blew out his cheeks, looking at Linus as he downed another whiskey. ‘Sounds like a Quinlan deal.’
Charlton started, suddenly wild-eyed. ‘Quinlan? What’s he got to do with it…?’
Cole told him about Creed. ‘Scared he was dying, didn’t want me to leave, spilled his guts. Up to a point.’
‘Oh, God! A man like Quinlan, holding Donny’s life in his hands.’
‘A man like what, Linus? You admitting you know Quinlan now?’
Linus slumped, nodded miserably. He held up his bandaged hand. ‘He did this. A warning from Brack Devlin.’
‘Guessed as much. But a warning about what?’
Linus stared blankly, then swallowed yet another drink. Cole leaned forward and took the bottle. The banker looked as if he would protest but changed his mind.
‘Stay sober, you damn fool!’
Charlton slumped, not looking at the sheriff. He sighed heavily.
‘All right. I’m something of a gambler on the quiet.’
‘Not so quiet, Linus. I’ve known for months about your losses in Mannering’s back room.’
This brought Linus’s head up. His jaw dropped. ‘You – you’re full of surprises, Cole!’
‘But you losing money to Mannering – how does that have anything to do with Brack Devlin?’
‘They work for the same group back East. A group of hardheads own big pieces of their saloons, and a lot of others, I hear. Devlin’s sort of a – a collector. He’s told about who owes money—’
‘And who’s behind in paying up?’
Linus swallowed and nodded miserably. ‘They think because I’m president of this bank I can lay my hands on money at any time! That’s why they gave me so much easy credit. Damn fools! I have to account for every cent!’
‘You’re mighty foolish gambling at all in your position, Linus.’
‘I’ve heard it all before, Cole! So don’t waste your breath.’ The banker spoke tersely and then scrubbed a hand down his sweating face. ‘I – I’ve tried to keep it from Bess. I hinted I needed some money but she’s determined I’ll never get my hands on a single dollar of her legacy.’ He shook his head jerkily, compressed his lips. ‘I could kill her at times! Anyway, to my surprise, after I explained to Mannering how I couldn’t come up with what I owed right away, Quinlan suddenly appeared on my doorstep and made the most outrageous threats. All smiles and pleasant while he did so, which made them worse, if anything! Then he suddenly grabbed my left hand and – and broke my two middle fingers! I couldn’t believe it was happening to me – in my own office! He clapped a hand over my mouth as I started to yell, banged my head back against the chair, then threw me on the floor and placed his boot across my throat. Still speaking calmly, he told me to either pay the money within one week or they’d find a way to make me pay up.’
‘You didn’t pay, so they kidnapped Donny and now demand twenty thousand in ransom. How much do you owe?’
‘That’s – that’s none of your business, Cole!’
‘I think it is, but let it go. You’ve been an awful damn fool, Linus. But I’ll stick by my word and handle the ransom payment for you.’
For a moment he thought the rattled banker was going to cry but the man regained control, cleared his throat and looked longingly at the bottle in Cole’s hands. The sheriff gave it to him and Linus drank straight from the neck.
‘All right, Linus, let’s get started and work out some kind of plan.’
‘They’ve – already made the plan!’
‘Their plan isn’t necessarily mine.’
‘Cole! You’ve got to do just as they say! Otherwise – you don’t know what they’ll do to Donny!’
‘Or me if I ride in blind, hoping they’ll stick to their side of things. It’s all pretty damn risky, but I aim to come out of this alive, Linus.’
The banker put his head in his hands.