The man who had spotted McCall went directly to the table occupied by Perry Culhane, Buck Meers and Ty Flag. There were at least a half dozen other Boxed-C hands in the saloon. There were plenty of whisky bottles on show as well. A heavy pall of tobacco smoke drifted overhead.
The cowboy, one of Perry’s close group, crossed immediately to speak with him.
‘He’s back,’ the man said.
Perry raised his weary eyes. He had been drinking steadily for hours and he almost failed to catch what the man was telling him.
‘Who?’
‘That Texan. The big hombre who shot Ty before he lit out of town.’
Buck Meers responded faster. He paced himself when drinking and was many glasses behind his employer.
‘McCall? You sure?’
‘I’m sure. Hard to miss that damned big feller. Saw him going into the hotel.’
Perry slowly absorbed the information, reaching for the half-full bottle in front of him. His only managed to knock the bottle over. It would have spilled its contents across the table if Meers hadn’t grabbed it.
‘Not the time, Perry,’ he said. ‘We need clear heads here.’
‘I ain’t drunk,’ Perry said, his words slurred.
‘You’re makin’ a pretty good impression then.’ Meers turned to the man who had just brought the information about McCall. ‘Go take another look around town. If McCall’s back it might mean Teague is. Take a couple of the boys. If you get a chance check the jail. Jake, keep this quiet. We need to know what we’re dealing with here.’
With that done Meers called one of the Boxed-C men over and between them they pulled Perry to his feet. There were a half-dozen small rooms on the upper floor. Meers decided the best thing for Perry was to lie down and sleep off the effects of the liquor.
‘What do you want me to do?’ Flag asked.
With his shoulder still heavily bandaged and held against his chest by a restricting sling he was still in some considerable pain and it took away any effective actions he might make.
‘Wait until the boys come back from checking things out. I’m starting to get a bad feeling about all this, so we need to stay on top of it.’
~*~
With two other of Perry’s crew following, Jake left the saloon. He got them to take a side of the street each and they started a thorough check. Thought it was approaching mid-evening there were still a number of people around. There were still stores open too.
Jake himself took a slow walk towards the jail and when he reached it he approached from the side, waiting until that part of the street was clear. He pressed to the wall and took off his hat, leaning forward to glance in the window.
Teague was there. So was the deputy, Mort, leg propped up on a stool. And there was a third man.
He was tall and solid, but the thing that took Jake’s interest was the badge pinned to his shirt.
Another lawman.
Jake couldn’t see the badge clearly enough to read what it represented.
For all he knew it could be a US Marshal badge.
Jake eased away from the jail, turned about and made his way back to The Golden Deuce.
If the man was a US Marshal matters were taking a different turn.
Jake was almost at the saloon when one of the other Boxed-C men reached him.
‘You get anything?’ Jake asked.
‘I had words with Ostermann over at the gun shop. Across from the doc’s. Seems he saw some activity there. Teague and a couple of newcomers. One feller took their horses off. The other stranger was carrying what looked like a young woman wrapped in a blanket. They took her inside. too far away for Ostermann to get a clear look but when one of the girl’s arms showed he’s sure it looked brown like an Injun.’
Jake said, ‘Go find Fitch. Keep checking and see if anyone else saw anything.’
Flag was sitting on his own when Jake went into the saloon.
‘Anything?’
‘New lawman in Teague’s office,’ Jake told him. ‘He might be a US Marshal, but I couldn’t see his badge clear enough. He’s in there talking to Teague.’
‘That’s all we damnwell need. You get anything else?’
‘Sam had a word with Ostermann. He saw Teague and a stranger carrying a woman into the doc’s office. He couldn’t be sure but he reckons she could be an Indian.’
Flag’s face visibly paled. He snatched up his glass and downed the shot of whisky.
‘That mean anything?’ Jake asked.
‘Mebbe so, mebbe not,’ Flag said. ‘You and the boys keep asking questions. I got to go check on Perry.’
Flag stood and clenched his teeth against a wave of pain from his ravaged shoulder. He pushed back the wave of nausea as he crossed the saloon, suddenly aware of the strong smell of tobacco smoke and the noisy atmosphere.
Son of a bitch, he thought. The damned squaw.
If she was able to speak then he and Meers and Perry could be in more trouble than they had figured. It had been a damn fool thing not chasing after that girl. But they had been too busy dealing with the Texan who had walked in on Sturdevant and spotted them. It had all started to get out of control after that. When the man, McCall, had escaped and they had gone looking for him thoughts about Mountain Spirit had slipped away. Perry had been too busy covering their tracks – and even that hadn’t exactly gone as it should.
Making his way upstairs Flag went to the room where he had seen Perry go in. The door opened and Buck Meers stepped out. Flag told him what Jake had found out.
‘Don’t let Perry know yet. State he’s in he’ll go hog wild and do something even more crazy.’
‘Fine,’ Flag agreed. ‘But what are we going to do?’
‘It’s already done. Was so the minute we killed Sturdevant. Jesus, Ty, we was all crazy with drinkin’ that whisky…oh, hell, ain’t no takin’ it back now.’
~*~
Flag went back down to his table, ignoring the questions from the men at the bar. A couple of minutes later Meers came down and crossed over to speak with the Boxed-C riders.
Ty Flag was going over everything in his mind. Thoughts crowded his mind. Thoughts about the incident at the cabin. Sturdevant’s ugly death, which at the time had been like a wild game that had gripped the three of them. He knew now that it had got way out of hand. He and Meers had followed Perry’s lead – which was what they always did – and got away with it because of who he was. The drink had got them all in its grip. The thought of the Indian girl had been a prize worth going after. Young and beautiful, far in excess of any of the girls who plied their trade in the saloons in town, she had dominated Perry’s thoughts for weeks. None of them had considered the consequences. As far as they were concerned she was just a Ute squaw. There for the taking. And on that day it all seemed to come together. Sturdevant hadn’t been at the cabin when they rode in. Inflamed by the whisky they had made their play and it had seemed to be going their way until Sturdevant made an unexpected return.
From that moment it had all gone to hell. Perry had beaten the girl in his drunken fury. Between them they had wrecked the cabin. Had turned on Sturdevant when he came at them. And with his usual twisted humor Perry had doused the man in oil and set him alight. A sheer moment of wanton violence. They had caught up their horses and chased him through the trees…and found themselves confronted by the man they now knew as Jess McCall…yet when they had tried to subdue him and haul him back to town with the intention of blaming him for Sturdevant’s death even that had backfired. McCall had escaped. He had shot Flag and stole his horse. By the time they had returned to Culhane the mess had become even more tangled.
Marshal Teague, never a one to conceal his dislike for Perry, had more or less taken the Texan’s side of the story.
Flag downed the glass of whisky in front of him. The liquor burned its way down with more than usual ferocity. It sat heavily in Flag’s stomach. He heard laughter from the bar where Meers was drinking with the crew.
What the hell did he have to be so cheerful about?
All it would take now was for that Indian girl – he’d even forgotten her name – to start telling her side of the story. Anger rose in Flag. Anger at their stupidity at letting her get away. Drunk as they were all they could think about was hogtying the Texan and dragging him back to town and she had run off while they were doing that. By the time they had thought about her it was too late. She had gone. Escaping into the wilderness forest. Somewhere she was at home in. Too late to go looking for her. All they could hope was she would stay well away from them.
Now it seemed even that was turning around on them. If she was in the care of the town doctor she might talk enough to point the finger. If she did it would take more than Perry’s persuasion to reverse things.
Flag’s mind went over and over everything. The way things were going not even Perry’s old man would be able to do anything. The Major might be a big man around Culhane, but the one thing he didn’t control was the law. John Teague was his own man. Beholden to no one. If he heard the truth from the girl, confirming McCall’s story, then everything would blow up in their faces.
He thought then of Ira Begley. Flag had never much liked the man. A toady who worked for Major Culhane and considered himself to be important, which was all in his mind. Begley had always tried to ingratiate himself with Perry and his close friends. His nosiness had led to his death when he had picked up loose talk between Meers and Perry and they had taken the opportunity to silence him during the street confrontation between Flag and McCall. It made Flag realize the threat they were all under from anyone with information.
Jesus, what damned mess.
A wild burst of laughter erupted from the bar. Flag twisted round, his move causing him a fresh burst of pain from his shoulder. He clutched his hand. Damn that McCall. Twice now he had put a slug into Flag. The doc had told him he would have to be careful now. If the wounds failed to heal correctly Flag might suffer from a crippled arm. It hadn’t been the news Flag wanted to hear.
The pain seemed to increase even as he thought about it. Flag pushed to his feet and walked out of the saloon. The earlier breeze had increased. Dust rattled against the buildings, gritty and harsh. Flag felt it against his pants as he stood on the edge of the boardwalk. He gripped his hat as it threatened to blow away. Across the rutted street he could see the doctor’s office. Lamplight showing behind the windows, and one of the upstairs windows where there were patient rooms. He decided to take a walk down there. Maybe the doc could give him something to ease the pain. He needed something. The way it was hurting he wasn’t going to get much sleep.
Flag stood at the door. He checked the street, not quite sure why, then opened the door and stepped inside. There didn’t appear to be anyone around. The office was deserted. Then he heard the quiet murmur of voices coming from the rear of the building. That would be where the doctor and his wife had their living quarters. To his right a staircase led to the upper floor. Where there were rooms for patients who needed care he reminded himself.
Like the Indian girl.
Her name came to him then.
Mountain Spirit.
That was it.
Flag allowed a thin smile to curve his lips. His left hand dropped to the butt of his cross-draw Colt. If he had his way the girl could go join her ancestor spirits. He clamped his lips tight when the smile almost became a giggle. That was the whisky. He hadn’t eaten for a while so the intake of liquor was having an effect. He took some deep breaths.
Calm down, boy, and do this quiet.
Do it right and maybe their problems would go away.
He went up the stairs, close to the side, testing each riser before he put his weight on it. He reached the landing without having any creaks betray his presence. Pausing outside the door to the room with the lighted window Flag reached down and turned the knob, gently easing the door free. He pulled his gun. Flag used the toe of his boot to push the door wide, following it quickly.
Whatever he was about to do had to be done fast. If this was where Mountain Spirit was, he needed to finish her without any fuss. He felt the weight of his pistol in his hand. No shooting. The heavy weapon would make an effective club. A couple of solid blows to her head, enough to crack her skull should be enough.
There was a lamp on a small table beside the bed. The illumination showed the covered shape of the girl. Despite the bruising and cuts on her face Flag recognized her. It was Mountain Spirit, her thick black hair standing out against the white pillow her head rested on.
This could turn out to be easier than I figured.
Flag moved into the room.
In his eagerness to carry out his threat he failed to notice the still figure in the cane chair in the gloom beyond the throw of the lamplight. Failed until the figure moved, pushing to his feet.
It was Joe Crown.
And he was taking in the armed man moving towards Mountain Spirit’s bed.
He saw the lamplight glint on the pistol in Flag’s hand. Crown saw the weapon half-risen. Saw, too, the anger on Flag’s burned face.
‘Hey,’ Crown said, and saw Flag turn at the sound of his voice. ‘Put it down, you son of a bitch.’
Flag’s gun began to drop, the muzzle turning in at Crown.
There was no hesitation in Crown’s response. His right hand dipped and when it rose again he was holding his .45 caliber Colt, the hammer already back. The boom of the shot was loud in the confines of the room. It was followed by a second shot, both slugs thudding into Flag’s chest. Flag stepped back, his mouth dropping open. He stumbled and fell to his knees, staring at Crown as if he couldn’t believe what had just happened. He found he couldn’t breathe easily anymore and there was numbness engulfing his body. The warm taste of blood rising in his throat. When he dropped to the floor he was already close to death. Both of Crown’s slugs had taken him in the heart. His hand let go of his gun and it bounced across the carpet as his fingers splayed apart.
Crown moved around the bed. He cleared Flag’s dropped weapon, them went to see if Mountain Spirit was safe. When he leaned over the bed he saw her eyes were open and she was staring up him.
‘It’s over,’ Crown said. ‘You’re safe now.’
Her gaze fixed on him. Unblinking. Searching his face.
‘They have killed Sturdevant,’ she said. ‘He is gone.’
‘No easy way to say it, girl, but yeah, he’s gone.’
The doctor and his wife burst into the room. Marian came directly to the bed.
‘She’s fine,’ Crown said. He realized he still had his gun in his hand and quickly put it away. He glanced at Cavanaugh. ‘You know him?’
The doctor said he did. ‘Ty Flag. One of Perry Culhane’s little group.’
Crown indicated the gun Flag had dropped. ‘Visitors usually bring flowers,’ he said.
‘My God, do you think he was going to hurt Mountain Spirit?’ Marian said.
‘Ma’am, I don’t have to think. If I hadn’t been here you would have just lost your patient.’
Mountain Spirit pushed herself slowly into a sitting position, ignoring the discomfort. Marian held her. Mountain Spirit leaned over so she could look down at Flag. She took a long look at him, her face expressionless.
‘You recognize him?’ Marian asked.
The girl nodded slowly.
‘Even with his marked face I recognize him. He is Flag. He came to our cabin with Meers and Perry Culhane. They were the ones who set Sturdevant on fire and killed him. Sturdevant said I should always be truthful and never hide from things.’ She looked across at Crown. ‘You saved me from Flag. This I will never forget, Joe Crown.’
‘I believe we need to have Marshal Teague hear what you have to say, young lady,’ Marian Cavanaugh said as she helped Mountain Spirit lie down again. ‘You should go an fetch him, Joe.’
Crown stood over the girl, concern on his face. ‘She going to be all right?’
Mountain Spirit’s free hand reached out and she took hold of Crown’s arm. ‘I am safe here now. Go and bring whoever you need, Joe Crown. There is no need for you to be concerned.’
After Crown had left Marian Cavanaugh said, ‘He will be concerned for her no matter what.’
The doctor smiled. ‘No matter what,’ he agreed.