Instant reflexes took over. Within seconds, Frank was on his feet and racing for the hotel. Rushing into the lobby, he noticed that there was no one behind the desk. Taking the stairs two at a time, he ran along the narrow corridor at the top.
As he had suspected, the door of his room was open. Cautiously, he stood to one side, then kicked the door in with his foot. Even in the darkness, it was clear there was no one there. Whoever had killed McDonald, he must have escaped through the rear door.
Swiftly, he went to the window and looked out. A small crowd had gathered around McDonald’s body. A couple of seconds later, Hawkins came running along the street. He said something to one of the men and then glanced up.
Three of the onlookers were pointing towards the window. A moment later, led by the deputy, they came quickly across the street towards the hotel entrance. Before Frank could reach the door they were pounding up the stairs.
Hawkins pushed his way through them. He had a Colt in his hand, levelling it on Frank’s chest. ‘Just stay right where you are, mister.’ His tone held a snarling edge. ‘I had you figured for a low-down killer when you first rode in. McDonald said you were all right and now he’s paid for that mistake with his life.’
Frank forced himself to speak evenly. ‘You know I didn’t kill him, Hawkins.’ Inwardly, he cursed himself for his stupidity. That conversation he had overhead in the bank; it had not been him they were planning to kill, but the sheriff, setting him up so that he could be framed for the murder.
‘It couldn’t have been anyone else,’ one of the men said viciously. ‘That shot came from this window. This is your room, ain’t it?’
‘It’s my room. But I reckon all o’ you know I don’t carry a weapon.’
‘That don’t mean you ain’t got one.’ Hawkins motioned to two of the men. ‘Search this place, men. We’ll soon find out if he’s tellin’ the truth.’
One of the men pulled out all of the drawers in the small cabinet by the bed, emptying them onto the floor. He shook his head. ‘Nothin’ here, Deputy,’ he grunted.
The second man moved over to the bed and heaved the mattress aside. Bending, he picked up something. ‘What have we got here.’ There was a note of satisfaction in his tone as he brought out the gun which had been hidden there. Sniffing the barrel and examining the chambers he said, ‘One shot’s been fired. Recently too.’
‘That ain’t my gun,’ Frank declared vehemently. ‘That’s been put there by the killer.’
‘Sure it has.’ Hawkins stepped up to him, a grin on his thin lips. ‘And I reckon we’ve got him. Bring him to the jail. I’ll see that he’s locked up.’
‘I say we string him up right now,’ muttered one of the watching men. ‘Ain’t no sense waitin’ for a trial. We got him dead to rights.’
For a moment, the look in Hawkins’s eyes told Frank that he intended to go along with these townsfolk. Then he shook his head. ‘Nope. We’ll do this accordin’ to the law. I reckon that’s how the sheriff would have wanted it doing. It won’t be long before the circuit judge gets here once he receives word o’ this. Then we’ll hang him, all proper and legal.’
The man nearest the door gave a nod. ‘Mebbe you’re right, Hawkins. From what I know, the sheriff and Judge Ivers were good friends. Reckon he’ll like to come face to face with the coyote who shot McDonald in the back.’
Five minutes later, Frank was in the street, heading towards the jail with Hawkins’s gun prodding him in the back. More of the townsfolk had gathered and there were several angry shouts among them. Pausing on the boardwalk, Hawkins yelled, ‘We’ve got the no-good snake who killed McDonald.’
After a moment’s silence, he added, ‘Right now, I’m locking him up. I don’t want any o’ you folk getting’ funny ideas about a lynchin’ party. He’ll stand trial in front o’ Judge Ivers. I’ll get word to him first thing in the mornin’. Somehow, I don’t reckon we’ll have to wait long before he arrives in Condor.’
Standing helplessly in front of the deputy, Frank ran his gaze over the watching crowd. Right at the back, he picked out the diminutive figure of Ben Sheldon. A moment later, the hostler detached himself from the others and sidled back along the street.
From the attitude of the crowd, he guessed the hostler was the only one there, apart from the killer, who knew he was innocent. But even knowing that, he doubted if there was anything Sheldon could do to help him. He had walked into this trap with his eyes shut and now he had to suffer the consequences.
Turning, Hawkins gestured him inside, closing the door behind him. Taking a bunch of large keys from the wooden rack on the wall, he thrust Frank along a short passage. Pulling open the door of one of the cells, he pushed him inside, closing and locking the door.
‘Reckon you’re a fool if you think you can get away with this, Hawkins,’ he said, forcing evenness into his voice. ‘Both you and me know who the real killer is.’
‘Sure we do,’ the deputy said viciously. ‘I’m lookin’ at him.’
‘And you think that Bellamy will stand by you when the chips are down? He’ll see to it that you end up the same way as McDonald.’
He saw from the expression on the deputy’s face that his words had struck home. ‘You seem to know a lot more than is good for you, Kelsey. Reckon you should be taught a lesson before you open your mouth too much.’
Unlocking the door, he took his gun from its holster and swung it in a short arc. The butt struck Frank just behind the left ear where the slug had hit him earlier. The blow was hard but not sufficient to render him unconscious.
Dropping to his knees, he clawed at the side of the low bunk to prevent himself from falling onto his face. Still grinning, Hawkins drew back his foot. The heavy boot caught Frank in the ribs sending lances of white-hot agony through his chest.
‘You need to know who’s in charge round here now that McDonald’s gone.’ The boot came in again, hitting him in the small of the back. Still Frank did not black out. ‘That nosy sheriff was getting’ a bit too conscientious for my liking. With you out o’ the way as well, things are goin’ to be just as they were.’
Blood was now running down the side of Frank’s face where the gun butt had re-opened the wound on his head. It oozed into his eyes, making it difficult for him to see properly. For a moment, he thought Hawkins meant to go on kicking him but with an obvious effort, the other managed to control his temper.
He stepped back, thrusting the Colt into its holster. A moment later, the door shut with a hollow, echoing clang. There was the faint sound of retreating footsteps in the passage and then a second door closing.
Not until then did Frank release his hold on consciousness as he sank into merciful oblivion, stretched out on the hard floor beside the bunk.
When he finally opened his eyes again it was still night outside. He felt icily cold and the throbbing inside his head was like a drum being beaten incessantly in the distance. Sucking in a racking breath, he put a hand up to his chest as stabs of agony lanced through it.
Somehow, he succeeded in raising himself, pushing his shoulders onto the bunk and then lifting his legs onto it. Stretching himself out, he tried to ignore the pain and concentrate on the precariousness of his position. At the back of his mind he had the feeling that Sheldon would try to help him. But there seemed nothing he could do apart from letting Everley know of what had happened.
Even if he should do this, what could the rancher possibly achieve in the face of all the evidence which Hawkins had stacked against him? With the few men Everley had at his disposal, it would be sheer suicide for them to try to go against the whole town.
Gradually, the pain in his body subsided into a dull ache. Now that his eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, he noticed the basin of water in one corner. Concentrating all of his efforts, he got unsteadily to his feet and lurched towards it.
The water was refreshingly cold as he splashed his face with it, washing the blood away. Never in his whole life had he felt so helpless. He knew that Hawkins could not afford to allow him to live. He and Bellamy had laid their plans well and they did not intend that some stranger should ride in and bring them down.
Ben Sheldon rode onto the Everley spread before the dawn had broken. A solitary light showed in one of the windows and he guessed someone was up even at that early hour. His entire body ached from the ride. It was more than twenty years since he had sat a horse and every jolt had hammered at his old bones. He lowered himself slowly from the saddle, turning as the porch door opened sending a swathe of yellow light across the courtyard. Jim Everley stood there, a rifle in his hands.
‘Who’s there?’ Everley called harshly.
‘It’s me, Mr Everley. Old Ben Sheldon.’
‘Sheldon?’ There was genuine surprise in the rancher’s tone. ‘What the hell are you doin’ out here at this hour?’ Lowering the rifle, Everley hobbled forward to help the old man into the house.
A moment later, Anne came into the room. There was a concerned expression on her face as she said tautly, ‘Something’s happened to Frank Kelsey, hasn’t it?’
Nodding, Sheldon lowered himself into a chair. ‘Hawkins has got him locked up in jail. Sheriff McDonald was shot in the back late last night.’
‘And they’ve charged Kelsey with the shootin’?’ Disbelief edged Everley’s voice. ‘That’s impossible. The man didn’t carry a gun. Mebbe he was a danged fool, but I’d stake my life he’s no killer.’
He walked across to the dresser and brought back a glass of whiskey. ‘Drink this, Ben, and then tell us all that happened. This sounds like a frame-up to me. And I can guess who’s behind it.’
Sheldon took a couple of swallows, then nodded. ‘He was framed all right. We both heard Bellamy and Hawkins talkin’ together just before it happened. They were plannin’ to kill someone but we thought it was Frank they were after.’
‘Instead they meant to get rid of McDonald and pin the killin’ on Frank.’
‘That’s the way of it. Whoever shot the sheriff down was in Frank’s room at the hotel. They’d planted a gun somewhere and one o’ the men found it. Just one shot had been fired. I saw what happened. Frank had just left me and was walking back to the hotel when that shot came.’
‘Then you can testify to that,’ Anne said sharply.
Sheldon shook his head. ‘Nobody in Condor is goin’ to believe a word old Ben Sheldon says. He’s soft in the head, they’ll say. Besides, my guess is that Hawkins has already sent for the circuit judge. McDonald was a good friend o’ Judge Ivers. Frank will hang for sure.’
Anne sank down into a chair, her hands twisting in her lap. ‘But there must be something we can do.’
Sheldon scratched his chin, then took another mouthful of the whiskey. ‘There might be just a chance but it means I’ve got to talk with Judge Ivers before Hawkins gets to him – and that ain’t goin’ to be easy.’
There was a puzzled frown on Anne’s face as she said, ‘But how is that goin’ to help? You can’t bribe Ivers.’
‘That’s true,’ Everley butted in. ‘I know somethin’ of his reputation. No amount o’ money will change any sentence he gives out.’
‘It wasn’t a bribe I was thinkin’ about. It’s somethin’ about Frank.’
‘Now I am confused.’ Anne sat forward on the edge of her chair. ‘What could you possibly know about Frank that might sway the circuit judge?’
Sheldon hesitated as if unsure how to answer her. Then he said quietly, ‘I reckon I’m the only one in town who knows who he really is. I recognized him the minute he came into the livery stables but I made him a solemn promise I wouldn’t spill it to a single soul.’
‘If it’s somethin’ that will save him from the rope, you have to tell Ivers.’
‘That’s what I intend to do.’
‘Can’t you tell us what it is you know about him?’ Anne asked.
Sheldon paused; then shook his head. ‘I figure the fewer people who know about it at the moment, the better. I’m sure that if either Bellamy or Hawkins found out, they’d deliberately get that crowd so steamed up, they’d haul Frank out o’ jail and hang him from the nearest tree.’
‘But he’s no outlaw on the run.’ There was a pleading look in the girl’s eyes.
Sheldon gave a faint smile. ‘If he was a killer, do you think he’d have walked ten miles across that wilderness to get you to safety?’
‘No, he wouldn’t.’ For a moment, Anne felt ashamed of herself for even asking the question.