The Parson was in his office at the hotel, smoking and thinking. It was the next afternoon and he had plenty to think about; considering everything he was more at ease than he might have been. Things had worked out well enough, much better than they might have done. When the Parson had received word that Tex Scarron, Sam and Pop had got away in the defile, and furthermore had been snatched by a guy pretty certainly identified as the Kid, it had looked bad.
He’d wanted Scarron out of the way, for he knew a dangerous guy when he saw one. He’d had his plans nicely laid, these including other items besides the liquidation of Tex. With that guy out of the way and put where he couldn’t do any harm or interfere with future operations, the Parson would have been sitting pretty. After that he’d get the guy he’d been forced to split the profits with. There was another move he had in mind, too, which could come when he’d settled up the other business. There was the Lazy Y, a ranch that could be made to show a good profit once the Parson got his hands on it.
All that could be made to come about, but first the Parson needed Tex Scarron out of the way. He wasn’t making any move in his intricate plan of operations until the newcomer was put where he couldn’t do any damage. The Parson liked to make one move at a time.
Things had looked pretty bad, but now, only twenty-four hours after the affair at the defile, matters had worked out in a way the Parson wouldn’t have believed possible. The break had come when word had reached the River that the fugitives were up at the hideout in the foothills and with them the Kid himself, his buddy … and Linda Forbes. The Parson hadn’t wasted any time. He’d moved fast with a picked bunch of his boys. Right now he could relax. He’d got everything pretty well under control. Tex Scarron wouldn’t be bothering him much longer and neither would the Kid.
He was aiming to work fast now. He didn’t reckon he could miss getting to the position he’d planned earlier, before the rescue at the defile. There had been a bad slip-up over that but matters had righted themselves.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Buck Forbes, looking pretty worried. He came to the point quickly.
‘You ain’t seen Linda?’ he asked. ‘I been out lookin’ for her. She cleared durin’ the night and nobody ain’t seen her since.’
The Parson’s face remained impassive, though in fact he’d known for some time that the dame was missing from the Lazy Y. When he’d learned that she wasn’t at the hideout in the hills he’d sent down to the Lazy Y. She’d been missing then. Buck wasn’t the only guy who’d been searching for her, but the Parson wasn’t giving anything away. He knew Linda Forbes had been playing a double game, but he wasn’t talking.
‘You don’t want to get het-up, Buck,’ he said easily. ‘She gets around, always has done. She’ll be OK.’
Buck wasn’t to be fobbed off, though. He’d been out all day looking for Linda and hadn’t found her. He knew that there had been action up in the hills on the previous night and he was worried.
‘What about those guys you took?’ he demanded. ‘Maybe she got mixed up with ’em. I tell you I don’t like it, Parson.’
The Parson himself wanted Linda Forbes, now that he knew she had been up at the hideout with Tex and the Kid. But he hadn’t got her … maybe by now Jeb and Snake, out looking for her, had been lucky, but maybe not. The Parson wanted Linda, wanted to find out how much she knew.
‘She didn’t get mixed up with those hoodlums,’ he replied. ‘Take it easy, Buck, she knows how to look after herself.’
Buck, standing by the window facing Main Street, swung round.
‘What about the guys you grabbed?’ he asked. ‘What do they know ’bout Linda?’
‘Nothin’ … and ’fore long they won’t be knowin’ anythin’ ’bout anythin’. We got the Kid an’ his buddy, an’ we got Tex Scarron. We took him ’long with the Kid an’ that’s good enough. He’ll swing an’ so will the others.’
‘You goin’ to try ’em? When, Parson?’
‘Tomorrow, I guess … they’ll swing all right.’
Buck scowled, still thinking about Linda.
‘I guess I want to talk to those hombres,’ he growled. ‘I ain’t satisfied they don’t know anythin’ ’bout Linda.’ And then, ‘what ’bout the other two, Pop Dwight an’ Sam? You didn’t grab them?’
The Parson shook his head. No, they’d missed both Pop and Sam Steel. The guys hadn’t been at the hideout when the attack was launched. Neither had Tex, but he’d shown up again at the right moment and Jeb had got him. Right now he was in the lock-up behind Main Street along with the Kid and the guy called Slick.
‘We ain’t got Sam or Pop,’ the Parson corroborated, ‘but don’t let that worry you. They don’t count for much … I guess maybe they were workin’ in with the Kid, but they ain’t important. Maybe we’ll grab them, but if not an’ they clear that’ll be OK. We shan’t be bothered with ’em any more at the River.’
It was glib talk but the Parson wasn’t as happy about the two guys as he made out. It was a pity they’d not been at the hideout when the attack was launched. Some of the boys were out looking for them, too. The Parson wished he’d laid hands on Sam and Pop – and on Linda – but he wasn’t giving it away.
‘I reckon we got the guy who bumped off old man Brand,’ he continued. ‘I guess I don’t rightly know which of ’em it was, maybe it was Scarron or maybe it was the Kid himself, but it don’t signify. They’ll get a trial tomorrow and I reckon they’ll swing. That’ll look after whichever it was who knifed Brand.’
They’d all be looked after all right, but not the way the Parson was letting Buck believe. There wasn’t going to be any trial; there was going to be an accident instead. But Buck didn’t know that and wasn’t going to know it.
The Parson went on talking, soothing him about Linda. It was well-known that the dame often went around on her own. She could look after herself … there was nothing for Buck to worry about. Gradually Buck relaxed. He had always been easily influenced, especially by the Parson.
As for the Parson himself, while he was talking his mind was moving, but along different lines. As earlier when he’d first heard that the Kid was rustling in on the territory and he had persuaded himself that it didn’t signify, so he tended to bluff himself that it didn’t matter so much that Sam, Pop and the dame had escaped the trap of the previous night. It didn’t matter, it would work out OK so he’d told himself. But now that Buck had brought up the subject again, the Parson was having second thoughts. It could be that the escapes would upset his plans.
While he talked to Buck he was indulging in these second thoughts. And all the time his eyes were on Main Street, hoping to get a sight of Jeb or Snake, maybe of Poston or the other boys, riding in with prisoners. He’d feel easier then.
They didn’t come. The Parson took hold of himself. It was a bad habit of his to start doubting. Everything would be all right; it had got to be. He was expecting results too quickly, maybe.
Buck changed the subject of the talk. He had relaxed a bit by now, had stopped thinking about Linda.
‘Parson, I guess I got to ask you somethin’,’ he said. ‘It’s been on my mind a bit … you ain’t goin’ to do nothin’ with that mortgage?’
The Parson hadn’t expected this but automatically answered smoothly, stringing Buck along as he had been doing for a long time.
‘Don’t worry ’bout that. Sure I hold the mortgage on the Lazy Y, but it’s like I told you, it’s a formality, that’s all. I ain’t thinkin o’ foreclosin’ if that’s what you’re worryin’ about. You’ll get enough dough back sometime to pay it off, Buck.’
Buck looked relieved.
‘OK Parson, that puts it straight. Guess I was loco to worry. I’ll be goin’ … maybe Linda’ll be up at the ranch when I get back.’
‘Sure she will. You get along.’
Buck went and hadn’t been gone above a few minutes before Snake rode into the settlement alone. He tethered his pony at the rail outside the hotel and sought the Parson.
He had nothing definite to report. He and Jeb had separated during the search for Linda. Snake himself had drawn a blank – and he hadn’t seen either Sam or Pop Dwight.
‘There ain’t a chance up there, boss,’ he said. ‘I guess guys who don’t want to be found ain’t found in the hills. The same applies to the dame. I reckoned I ought to get along back. How’s it goin’? You bumped off those guys yet?’
The Parson stubbed out his cigar.
‘Not yet,’ he replied briefly.
‘Well, ain’t you goin’ to? I guess I don’t fall for the tale you’re goin’ to try ’em, you ain’t that slow.’
The Parson said nothing. Snake was right, he wasn’t that slow. But the guy’s arrival had brought to the forefront another problem, in the solution of which Snake had to take a leading part. The Parson was working things out.
As though reading his thoughts Snake spoke again, watching the Parson closely.
‘You thought ’bout what we were talkin’ ’bout?’ he asked. ‘I guess I’m ready when you are.’
Then the Parson broke his silence.
‘Sure, I been workin’ it out,’ he said. ‘I guess pretty near any time now. You hang around, Snake, don’t leave the hotel until I tell you to … and keep your knife handy. I don’t want no shootin’. You can use a knife OK?’
‘I can use a knife. But I don’t know who the guy is.’
Still the Parson wasn’t to be drawn on the subject of identity. He wasn’t taking any chances. If the projected killing didn’t come off he didn’t want Snake to know who his partner was … that might be dangerous. He’d give Snake the word at the last moment, not before. The Parson was a careful guy.
‘OK, like you say, boss, I’ll be around when you want me. You expectin’ him down here?’
The Parson nodded. He reckoned he’d come – he’d have to make sure the prisoners were being taken care of and that plans to liquidate them were going forward OK. Sure, the guy would come … so the Parson hoped.
Snake rolled himself a cigarette, lit it before speaking again.
‘You got slick word the Kid and this guy Scarron were up in the hills,’ he drawled.
The Parson looked at him sharply for a moment and then away again.
‘Sure, I got word … there was a guy hangin’ around up there, doin’ a bit o’ trailin’. He sighted the bunch and got down here pronto.’
Snake nodded, sucked in acrid tobacco smoke.
‘You ain’t got around to dealin’ with the black bum yet? Sure, I guess she’ll keep.’
The Parson had pretty well forgotten about the grotesque Bluebell. She hadn’t made any more trouble since the incident at the hotel, and neither had the Parson. It was like Snake said, she’d keep. When the other, major matters had been dealt with she could be looked after.
Those major matters would be looked after with any luck. First the three prisoners would be dealt with, or at least preparations made to that end. Then the Parson’s partner could be liquidated; or maybe that would have to be attended to first, according to when he showed up. It didn’t make much difference. Scarron, the Kid and his buddy were safe, couldn’t get away, the Parson had made sure of that. It might work out that the guy Snake was to put out would get down to the settlement before the time came to liquidate the prisoners. If so then he could be put out first. If not then afterwards – it didn’t really signify.
‘How you goin’ to work it for those guys?’ asked Snake, jerking his head towards the rear of the hotel, where the lock-up was situated.
‘I guess there’ll be a fire,’ said the Parson slowly. ‘Too bad … those guys tryin’ to break out by firin’ the place. Scarron knows all about oil,’ he added, ‘he’s used it before, on my property.’
Snake allowed himself what he called a smile. Sure, a fire would settle the problem nice and easy. The sheriff would swear blind that it had been as a result of the prisoners trying to get away. After that Snake would use his knife, and maybe the Parson would frame that so it looked like Scarron or the Kid had bumped off the guy. Snake reckoned that could be worked, seeing that Poston was on the Parson’s pay-roll. That would tidy things up nice and neat.
‘Sure, that’s about it,’ agreed the Parson, who was prepared to go quite a long way with Snake, only holding back what could be dangerous for Snake to know. One of those items, apart from the identity of the Parson’s partner, was that Snake himself wouldn’t live long after the killing. Snake was going to be framed for the murder – though strictly speaking it wouldn’t be a frame-up seeing that he was in fact going to do the killing. After that everything would indeed be tidied up, and the Parson would be sitting very pretty, in sole control.
‘I guess you an’ me can work in together OK.’ drawled Snake. He had plenty of confidence now. ‘You’ll be foreclosin’ on the Lazy Y, I reckon … and there’s good pickin’s from Werner, ain’t there?’
‘What you talkin’ about?’
Snake’s rat face creased into the travesty of a smile.
‘It ain’t no good bluffin’, Parson … you don’t want to try bluffin’ a buddy. You an’ me we’re buddies now. I told you, I get to know things. You’ve been blackmailin’ Werner, and I guess you ain’t holdin’ the mortgage on the Lazy Y just for fun.’
The Parson thought quickly. Snake knew more than he’d anticipated; but it was like he said, it was no use bluffing. No use and there was no need to bluff, because Snake wouldn’t be alive long enough to make use of his knowledge.
‘You’re a smart guy, Snake … sure, you got it right. I’ve been stringin’ Buck along, I’ll grab the Lazy Y as soon as we’ve got the rest o’ this settled. You’ll get your cut, Snake.’
‘Sure, I’ll get my cut,’ he replied. And then, ‘Things have worked out all right, I guess. You an’ me know Scarron didn’t bump off old man Brand, an’ neither did the Kid or his buddy, but it’ll look that way if any questions get asked.’
‘Sure … but I reckon you couldn’t prove they didn’t bump off Brand. Even you ain’t so clever as that, Snake.’
Snake hitched up his gun-belt.
‘Who did the killin’?’ he asked. ‘I reckon I’d like to know that … and I ain’t got around to workin’ out why, Parson.’
‘You ain’t got no interest in that, Snake … I guess it ain’t your business. You use your knife when I tell you an’ after that maybe we’ll talk again.’
Snake was about to speak again when there came an interruption which took both the Parson and Snake off guard. The office door was flung open abruptly and there was a guy standing there with a gun in his hand, a guy who advanced into the room, the rod levelled, finger on the trigger.
It was Buck Forbes, his mouth set the way the Parson had never seen it before.
‘Get your hands up,’ he rasped, ‘an’ make it quick … my finger’s itchin’.’
He was obeyed. There was death in his face, which both the others recognized.
The Parson found his voice first, even as he worked out how long he’d got to stall to make sure this mad guy was taken care of. The hotel was pretty well denuded of his boys because they were out looking for the other fugitives. That was why Buck had managed to pull a fast one. But there were some of the bunch hanging around.
‘Cut it out Buck, this ain’t no time for jokin’,’ said the Parson.
‘This ain’t no joke. You didn’t shut the door on,’ added Buck, jerking out the words at Snake. ‘I been listenin’ … I guess you can’t bluff me any more, Parson. You’re goin’ to foreclose on the Lazy Y, an’ you’re aimin’ to frame guys for a murder you know they didn’t do. That’s what you’re aimin’ to do, Parson, but it won’t work out like that. I ain’t standin’ for that … I been a fool, I guess, but I’ve woke up now.’
The Parson’s mouth set hard. So this dumb guy had been doing some overhearing. He’d got to be put out of the way.
‘You got it all wrong, Buck,’ he stalled, and then his eyes went beyond Buck to the half-open door. ‘OK, Jeb,’ he called, ‘get him….’
The bluff worked just long enough for the Parson’s purpose. Buck half turned, as he did so the Parson moved. There was no Jeb in the doorway but that didn’t matter. As Buck swung round again his gun was grabbed. The Parson knew his stuff, and there was Snake to lend a hand. Within a couple of seconds Buck was disarmed and looking at the wrong end of his own gun.
‘I guess it’s curtains for you, Buck,’ snarled the Parson. ‘It don’t pay tryin’ to pull a fast one on me. Sure, it’s curtains … an’ the Lazy Y will come to me OK on that mortgage I hold.’
Then somebody did show up in the doorway. It was Sheriff Poston. He wasn’t alone. With him was Jeb … and Linda Forbes, held by Jeb, forced into the room.
‘OK, boss, I got her,’ grunted Jeb. ‘I brought her in the back way, nobody didn’t see me….’
He broke off as his slow perceptions caught up with the fact that Buck was being held up.
‘Heck, what the…?’
‘Cut it out, Jeb,’ interrupted the Parson. Things were working out. The girl was taken, which was good, and the tables had been turned on Buck, which in view of what he’d heard was even better.
The Parson surveyed Linda, who stood there breathing hard, clothes dishevelled, shirt torn at the neck. Her face was white as she returned the Parson’s gaze.
‘Let her go, Jeb,’ said the Parson smoothly. ‘We got plenty o’ guns … an’ I reckon if anyone is goin’ to handle this dame it’ll be me. She ain’t such a bad dish at that.’
Linda knew fear then, stark fear, for almost the first time in her life. When reluctantly Jeb released her one hand went to the neck of her shirt, pulling together the torn fabric from under which white flesh had shown.
The Parson laughed.
‘I guess you needn’t bother doin’ that,’ he said smoothly.