Tex sat on the wooden floor of the lock-up situated behind the hotel and the sheriff’s place next-door. Tex’s ankles and wrists were tightly bound, too tightly either for comfort or any chance of escape. The Kid and Slick had been served in the same way.
All three had been prisoners in the lock-up for twenty-four hours. It was now dark; ever since the previous night they had languished in the lock-up, not knowing what was going on outside, what the Parson was doing – but able to make a pretty good guess what he intended. And Tex for one reckoned that he wouldn’t delay much longer.
They knew, too, what had happened at the hideout and how the Parson and his bunch had come to discover the place. They had been rumbled as a result of information reaching the Parson, there was no doubt about that. The Kid and Slick had talked – there had been plenty of time – and it seemed they’d sighted the hoodlums making straight for the hideout. The movement Slick had seen earlier had after all been significant. It had been some guy snooping around; and according to the Kid, who had been in better shape than Tex by the time the attack was over and the prisoners taken, it had been the Bar X cowhand Brady who had taken word to the Parson that fugitives from the defile affair were lying up in the hills. The Kid had heard the Parson say as much.
Tex had ridden into trouble and hadn’t known anything for a long time after he’d been laid out. But he knew all about it now. He knew that Sam and Pop hadn’t been taken at the hideout – and that was about the only cheerful piece of news there was. They had left the hideout soon after Tex himself had ridden away with Linda. They had gone to scout around. They hadn’t returned by the time the attack was launched; as far as the prisoners knew they hadn’t been taken yet. There was hope in this, pretty faint maybe considering how many hoodlums the Parson could command, but nevertheless a hope. Pop Dwight was past his prime but Tex knew that he was slick enough. Sam was young and tough. Sure there was hope that they’d do something.
The Kid and Slick, surprised and outnumbered by the Parson’s bunch, had put up a fight but had been overwhelmed by weight of numbers. They hadn’t been wounded but over-powered, had been made prisoners, along with Tex, and brought back to the River and locked up.
The hours passed slowly. They could talk but they couldn’t move. Some food had been brought to them and water; they were left to eat and drink as best they could, still bound.
As to the outcome, there wasn’t much doubt about that. The Parson must be aiming to liquidate his prisoners. Tex didn’t reckon it would be done legally or even with a semblance of legality. The Parson wouldn’t risk anything at this stage. In the first place Tex had judged that probably a swift killing would be staged with the excuse that the shooting had been done in self-defence or to prevent an arrested man escaping. Now he reckoned that the Parson would stick to that idea. An accident maybe would be staged, murder under the guise of misadventure. And time was moving relentlessly on, with no indication that Sam or Pop had managed to pull anything.
Any idea of making a break had long ago been discarded. The lock-up was of stout timber, with a single tiny window set high in one wall and heavily barred. Even if the prisoners could escape from the ropes which bound them there wouldn’t be a chance of getting out of the lock-up. The doors were of solid oak equipped on the outside with a stout lock and iron bolts. But in any event it was impossible to shift the ropes.
Over and above his own personal jam, Tex Scarron was worrying about someone else – Linda. She had gone to the Lazy Y, but what then? The hideout had been rumbled by the guy Brady, there didn’t seem any doubt about that. He had taken word to the Parson and the attack had been mounted. What else had he reported? Had he seen Linda up there with the others? It was possible, even probable. In that case the Parson would know that the girl was against him. Had he taken her by now?
Tex wasn’t arguing with himself about Linda Forbes any more. He’d known her for about three days, and in that time had seen her only a few times, talked with her less. But Tex knew what he knew and at last admitted it freely. In the past he’d laughed at other guys who’d fallen for skirts, but right now he wasn’t laughing. The thought of Linda in the Parson’s power brought a fear that he had never known before, that he could never know on his own account. She was out of the common run all right, not only as to looks but also in being able to look after herself. But she’d be helpless against the Parson if and when he really got moving. Tex sat hunched against the wooden wall cursing himself. When Slick had reported the movement up in the foothills he ought to have gone after the guy, not been fobbed off with a tale that maybe it wasn’t anyone. It had been someone all right and the guy, Brady probably, must have been closer to the hideout earlier, got a good look at those there. Tex didn’t rate the chances very high that the Parson still didn’t know that Linda was in the set-up against him.
The lock-up was dark, only a faint glimmer of light coming through the tiny barred window. Tex’s instinct told him that the Parson had probably been waiting for nightfall. Now night had come. It could be that the prisoners had very little time left. Just what the enemy would pull Tex didn’t know, but the main idea must be to liquidate those in the lock-up.
There had been silence for some time; there was little left to be said. But now the Kid’s voice was heard.
‘Somebody comin’.’
His ears were keen, far keener even than Tex’s. The latter strained to listen; and then after a few moments he heard the noise that the Kid had picked up. There was a faint shuffling noise from outside.
Nobody said anything but it was odds that the Kid and Slick were thinking the same as Tex. The faint shuffling noise was furtive, which didn’t look like the Parson or any of his boys were coming. They’d no reason to move cautiously. All three prisoners waited tensely.
The noise ceased, there was silence again. After a bit Slick started to speak.
‘I reckon it ain’t …’
‘Cut it out,’ came the Kid’s order, ‘Stay quiet, Slick.’
His buddy relapsed into silence again. Once more there was a tense pause. It lasted perhaps three minutes. Then at the door there came a noise again, a metallic noise, followed by the scraping of what could only be bolts.
The door opened though not fully. Tex had a glimpse of the sky outside and then it was blocked out by something that moved. Somebody had entered the lock-up … closed the door again, silently.
In the darkness Tex couldn’t see who the guy was, had caught only a vague glimpse of somebody framed for a moment against the sky. But now he could hear whoever it was moving across the floor. Then a voice spoke softly … and Tex knew then that it wasn’t a guy.
‘Kid, you there?’
The intonation, the accent, were unmistakable. Tex had seen the grotesque negress Bluebell only once, hadn’t ever heard her speak, but it was a negress who was now talking and it must be Bluebell.
‘Sure … make it quick, honey.’ Then, to Tex, ‘I guess you didn’t know ’bout Bluebell, Scarron. I kept quiet, reckoned I had to in case anyone was listenin’ in. She’s a pal o’ mine.’
‘Ah sure reckon Ah am,’ came Bluebell’s voice. ‘Hold still, Kid, Ah’ll have you out o’ this. Ah been a mighty long time Ah know, but it weren’t so easy grabbin’ a key.’
Tex strained his eyes through the darkness but could see only vague movement on the other side of the lock-up. Bluebell was the Kid’s buddy … that was a fast one. But it looked as though it was going to get them all out of a jam.
The Kid was released, then Slick, and lastly Tex. It took a little while for the circulation to get working again, for cramped limbs to return to normal. While they massaged wrists and ankles, Bluebell talked in a low voice, after getting across to the door again and making sure that nobody was hanging around.
She’d been working out how to get at the prisoners ever since they had been brought back to the River. It hadn’t been easy and it had taken her all this time to manage it. But she’d worked it in the end.
‘Sure, Ah lifted the key off the sheriff,’ she added, ‘an’ Ah reckon he ain’t got no idea, not yet.’
Then, as she drew from her capacious belt three guns, handing them out, she added something that brought Tex urgently to her side. Three hours earlier there had been a show-down between the Parson and Buck Forbes. Bluebell didn’t rightly know what about, but her hunch was that Buck had at last got on to what the Parson was.
‘An’ not ’fore it was time, Ah reckon. The Parson was too quick for him … he’s got him tied up in the hotel. And the dame’s with him … Jeb got her up in the hills.’
Tex grabbed her by her huge arm.
‘He’s got Linda?’ he rasped.
‘Sure, but that ain’t our worry, Ah guess. You guys got to scram … an’ maybe Ah’ll come with you, Kid? Ah reckon Ah’ve had enough o’ runnin’ a store.’
Dimly Tex realized that the Kid must have planted Bluebell at the River deliberately, going to the trouble of buying out the guy Graw, presumably after he’d met up with Linda and agreed to lay for the Parson. But that didn’t matter right now; nothing mattered except that Linda had been taken by the Parson. The Kid and his buddies could make a break for it if they liked, but Tex wasn’t getting out without Linda.
‘I’m stayin’ until I’ve got her,’ he said grimly. ‘You’d better scram, Kid … an’ thanks for what you’ve done, you an’ Slick an’ Bluebell.’
The Kid spoke briefly.
‘It’s OK, we ain’t goin’ just yet. I guess I wouldn’t sleep comfortable knowin’ that louse Dean had got the dame.’ He turned to Bluebell. ‘Where’s the rat got her?’
Five minutes later the four of them were outside the lock-up, well under cover behind the hotel. It had been reckoned, evidently, that the lock-up was so secure that no guards were needed. As yet nobody knew that the prisoners were free – but it wouldn’t be long before they did know.
Linda was in the room behind that which had witnessed the poker incident on Tex’s arrival at Grant’s River. This gave on to the waste ground behind Main Street. It was equipped with a window but according to Bluebell, Linda was well guarded, and with her Buck Forbes. What the Parson intended the negress didn’t know, but at least when she had opened up the lock-up the girl had been in that room.
There was a light showing through the window, which was curtained, however, so that it was impossible to see into the room. Naphtha light spilled out from the front of the hotel on to Main Street as usual at this time, and there could be heard the usual noise from the saloon which by now must be pretty full. Where the Parson himself was there was no telling, but probably in his office. How many of his boys were with Linda or guarding the room from outside wasn’t known either.
Not that it signified, because if there had been a hundred guys Tex was going in after Linda. There was neither time nor opportunity for finesse. The rescue must be launched swiftly and the chance taken that the surprise would pull it off. The Kid and Slick were tough and experienced. Tex reckoned without being told that Bluebell was that way, too. That made four of them, maybe against fifty … but surprise might offset the disparity in numbers.
They’d got it worked out as well as they could. In the front of the hotel, tethered to the rail, was a line of ponies. When the getaway was made, if it was made, some of these beasts could be used.
The Kid looked across at Tex as they crouched under cover only twenty yards from the rear of the hotel.
‘OK, pal?’
‘Sure, get goin’ … an’ good luck, Kid.’
The Kid smiled thinly. He reckoned they’d all need plenty of luck.
‘When you get the dame, beat it,’ he said, ‘don’t hang around. You know where to make for?’
Tex knew. The Kid had described another hideout in the foothills, at a distance from the first. If the party got split up, as was likely, they were all to make for this hideout which it was impossible for the Parson to know anything about.
The Kid got moving, and with him Slick and Bluebell. They slid from cover and made for the hotel, leaving Tex behind temporarily. Their task was to cause a diversion.
Slick and Bluebell made down the alleys on either side of the building, alleys which debouched into Main Street, one on either side. The Kid himself approached the rear entrance to the hotel.
Tex waited, watched Bluebell and Slick disappear and then the Kid enter through the rear door. Then he moved, leaving cover and sliding across the intervening space to the window of the room where it was to be hoped Linda was still a prisoner.
Tex reached the window, pressed himself against the wooden wall to one side of it. Within a couple of minutes there came a shot from the front of the hotel and it was instantly followed by uproar, with which were mingled other spasmodic shots.
It was time to act, and Tex didn’t wait any longer. He heard the slam of a door near at hand, judged that it was the door of the room in which he was supremely interested. The window came pretty low, enabling him to set his shoulder against the glass and the frame.
His shoulder crashed through the glass and the flimsy wood and then lithely he was across the sill, flinging the curtains aside.
For a brief second he took in the scene … there was Jeb, in the act of swinging round, gun in hand, another of the Parson’s bunch, Rocky Schultz, by the half-open door … and against the opposite wall Buck Forbes and Linda, both disarmed but neither of them bound. Just for a brief second Tex took this in and then his gun cracked as Jeb swung round. The man staggered back, blood welling from his shoulder. His gun fell to the ground. Then Rocky Schultz grabbed for his throwing knife. Tex fired again but too late. The sliver of steel hurtled through the air.
Tex ducked even as he fired. The knife struck the woodwork of the window-frame an inch from his head. At almost the same moment Tex fired again and this time didn’t miss. Rocky staggered back and then Tex was on him.
As he dealt with him, putting him out for the time being, Buck Forbes was on Jeb. He straightened with a gun in his hand. Tex grabbed Rocky’s and thrust it at Linda.
‘OK, after me, you last, Forbes,’ he snapped. ‘Don’t ask questions, they’ll keep.’
Just for a moment his hand gripped Linda’s bare arm. Then he was making for the door. Jeb, like Rocky, was now out, having been clubbed by Buck.
There was pandemonium now in the hotel. Shots were being fired, men were shouting and from somewhere there came a woman’s scream.
Tex led the way out of the room. A guy came at him. There was no room to use a gun. Tex sidestepped and then his left hook took the guy on the chin, putting him out. He slumped to the floor and the party went on. The passage leading past the poker room and then the Parson’s office, was deserted for the time being; but then, out of the Parson’s office came a man … it was Sam Steel, gun in hand. As he came he fired, back into the room.
Tex came level with him, was recognized. Through the open door of the room he saw two other guys, recognized them both. One was the guy he knew was called Snake, the other was Doc Black. The desk was lying on its side, papers scattered on the floor from drawers half-open.
Snake had a knife in his hand. Sam’s shot had evidently missed, for neither Snake nor the Doc were wounded. Snake’s hand came up with the knife but before he could throw it Tex had fired from the hip. Snake fell back. Another shot cracked out. Buck Forbes had fired, but not at the Doc or Snake. The Parson himself had rounded an angle in the passage. He ducked back, unhurt.
What Sam was doing here Tex didn’t know, nor was this exactly the moment to talk about it. Nor was it known what the Kid and the others were doing, but from the saloon came the uproar of fighting and shots were still being fired. Tex grabbed Linda, thrust her across the room towards the window giving on to the alley. Snake was out. The Doc had crumpled under a blow from the butt of Sam’s gun and for the moment was also out of action.
Tex thrust up the window. Linda didn’t need to be told what to do. She swung lightly over the still and came to the ground outside in the alley.
After that it was simple enough. Main Street was deserted, all the uproar coming from inside the hotel itself. What loungers had been in the street had been attracted into the building. Within a few minutes of making the getaway from the office the party, now four in number, were riding away, with no pursuit. They’d grabbed ponies from the tethering rail and nobody had even seen them doing it. They left the hotel still in the grip of confusion and wild fighting.
Within the hour they’d reached the hideout the Kid had described, reached it without incident, a boulder-strewn declivity amongst the foothills. And when they reached it they found the Kid, Bluebell and Slick waiting for them. Tex hadn’t known the way, had been forced to scout around to pick up the right trail. The night was dark, with no moon showing. The Kid and his party had bypassed them and arrived first.
There was somebody else with them – Werner of the Block Diamond, menaced by the gigantic Bluebell, whose gun was pressed into the guy’s ribs.
They’d picked up Werner on the way, it seemed. He’d been snooping around amongst the hills.
‘Sure, we brought him along,’ said the Kid. ‘I guess I got somethin’ to tell you, Scarron. Look after Werner, Bluebell.’
‘Ah sure will, Kid,’ was the grim reply, ‘He won’t get away from me ’cept dead.’
The Kid had plenty to tell Tex. He and his buddies had created a diversion all right, and had got away. Just how he didn’t explain, nor did it matter. They’d got away.
‘I got somethin’ here,’ added the Kid, thrusting his hand into his pocket and producing a paper. ‘It was in the Parson’s pocket … I guess I didn’t bump the guy off, some of his boys interrupted, but I slugged him … that was after you’d scrammed. But I got this paper. It explains a whole lot.’
It did … and that wasn’t the only explanation made. Linda was with Buck over the other side of the declivity; Tex, the Kid, Slick and Sam were on their own.
Briefly Sam explained that for the past twenty-four hours he’d been hiding up waiting for nightfall. He and Pop had split up when they’d gone scouting after Tex had left the first hideout. Sam had got back in time to witness the end of the Parson’s attack and see the prisoners being taken away. It had been impossible to do anything. Sam had gone under cover, had spent the day working out what to do. In the end, when Pop hadn’t shown up, he’d gone down to the River and had broken into the hotel.
‘I guess it was a fool thing to do,’ he added, ‘but I heard a couple o’ the Parson’s boys talkin’ an’ they let out between ’em you were in the lock-up. I thought maybe I could get you out … it don’t signify, you made it without me.’
Tex nodded. Sure, they’d made it, with Bluebell’s help, but that didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate Sam’s courage. It had needed some to take on the bunch single-handed.
‘I got rumbled,’ continued Sam, ‘but that don’t matter now … I saw Pop. He was with the Parson in the office, talkin’ all friendly, an’ there was money passin’, wads o’ dollars. They didn’t see me, I was peekin’ through the side window, that was ’fore I got rumbled.’ He paused, while Tex, grasping the implications of this, stared. ‘That ain’t all, Tex … the guy Brady is dead meat. I found him in the poker room, knifed in the back. I guess maybe he knew too much.’
Tex stood there with the paper the Kid had given him. That paper proved that Werner had been blackmailed, but it didn’t seem important right now. Pop Dwight … friendly with the Parson, leaving the hideout before the attack, disappearing, joining up with the Parson and taking a whole lot of dough from him. It all added up. Maybe Brady had carried word to the Parson about the hideout, but who had given him the tip? Now Tex came to think about it there hadn’t been a lot of chance of Brady getting close enough to the hideout to be sure of his facts, not with Slick on guard; but he hadn’t needed to, not if he’d been slipped the word by somebody who did know.
Pop Dwight … the Parson’s partner. Sure, it all added up, everything. And maybe Dave Brand had got on to him and Pop had put him out … there had been time on the night of the murder, there was only Pop’s word for what he’d been doing before meeting up with Tex again.
Sure, it all added up….