18
A rooster crowed.
Somewhere a back door opened, and a housewife came outside, carrying a bucket. She put the bucket under the spout and began pumping water. The squeaking clank, clank, clank of the pump could be heard all over town.
A dog barked.
A baby cried.
James Caulder had spent the night at the depot, and when the morning sounds woke him up, he stood, stretched, scratched, and looked out at the red disk of the sun, low in the eastern sky. He walked outside and peed on the railroad tracks, making no attempt to preserve modesty.
“Tull? Bodine?” he called as he buttoned up his pants.
Bodine had been sleeping on another bench in the depot, and at Caulder’s call, he got up. Tull was walking down the street toward the depot, coming from downtown. He was carrying something, and when he got close enough, Caulder could see that it was a plate of biscuits and bacon. Caulder reached for one.
“You two fellas decide to sleep in this mornin’?” Tull teased. “I already been all over town. Got these down at Manuel’s.”
“Anybody see any sign of Slocum or MacTavish last night?” Caulder asked, taking a big bite.
“Not hide nor hair,” Tull answered. “There is somethin’ strange goin’ on, though.”
“Strange? What do you mean, strange?”
“Well, it’s Mr. Draper. Don’t nobody seem to know where’bouts he is.”
“He’s in his apartment over the leather goods store,” Caulder said. “Simmons and Taylor is with ’im.”
“No, he ain’t there. Simmons and Taylor ain’t there neither, I done checked. He ain’t at none of the cafés or the saloon, neither.”
“What do you mean, Goddamnit? He has to be somewhere. What’s the name of the guy that owns the leather goods store? Bradley? Did you check with him?”
“Yeah, I did, but he don’t know nothin’ about it, neither.”
At the other end of town from the depot where Caulder, Bodine, and Tull were having their breakfast, Slocum and Ian were having their own breakfast back in Manuel’s kitchen. Draper had spent the night in the kitchen with them, bound and gagged. Slocum walked over to him.
Smiling at him, he said in a quiet, conversational voice, “I’m going to take the gag off. But if you yell, I’m going to kick your teeth down your throat. Now, do you understand that?”
His eyes wide with fear, Draper nodded yes.
“And you’ll be a good boy?”
Again, Draper nodded yes.
Slocum removed the gag. “Do you want breakfast?” Slocum asked.
“No. Would you mind telling me how long you are going to keep me here?”
“I’m going to keep you here long enough for Ian, Emma, and Julie to get out of town.”
“And how are they going to do that?”
“Simple. We’ll send a telegram over to Risco, asking the switch engine to come pick up their car. It should be here by this afternoon.”
“You aren’t going to make it. I’ve got forty men spread around town, all of them waiting for a chance at that one thousand dollars. Besides that, Caulder and some others are down at the depot. You’ll never make it.”
“If we don’t make it, you won’t make it,” Slocum said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“When we move down the street toward the depot, I’m going to be holding a double-barreled shotgun right under your chin. I’ll have the triggers tied back, and I’ll be holding the hammers back with my thumb. If something was to happen to me, for example, say I was to get shot, then my thumb would just naturally let go and the hammers would snap shut, firing the gun.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, people are always telling me that.”
“Señor Slocum!” Manuel said, coming quickly into the kitchen.
“I think maybe you should come.”
“What is it?”
“Come, por favor.”
Slocum, Ian, and Draper followed Manuel through the door back into the dining room of the café. Although there were several plates of half-eaten breakfasts on the tables, the room was completely empty. When Slocum reached the front of the café, he looked outside and saw that the street was also empty. That was strange, for this was the middle of the morning and the street should have been full of its daily commerce.
“Over there, señor,” Manuel said, pointing across the street.
Looking in the direction Manuel pointed, Slocum saw Caulder and Bodine standing on the front porch of the leather goods store. A more thorough perusal showed him that the street wasn’t empty as he had thought, but was lined with gunmen, crouched behind watering troughs, standing behind the comers of buildings, behind wagons, and several other places, all with their guns trained on Manuel’s café.
“Damn,” Slocum said. “How’d they find out where we were?”
Behind him, Draper chuckled. “I told you you wouldn’t make it.”
“Slocum! Slocum, we need to talk!” Caulder shouted.
“All right,” Slocum replied, shouting back through the door. “Let’s talk.”
“We’ve got a friend of yours,” Caulder said. Giving a signal to someone, two men appeared from around the comer of the bank. One of the two was Timmy Norton. Timmy’s face was badly bruised and bloodied, his hair matted, and his clothes torn.
“Recognize this boy?”
“Yes.”
“He was real helpful,” Caulder said. “He told us where to find you.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Slocum,” Timmy said. “They beat it out of me.”
“Don’t worry about it, son,” Slocum said. “You’ve been a friend. Caulder, what do you aim to do with him?”
“Oh, I think I’ll just show this town what it means to be your friend,” Caulder said.
“Let the boy go,” Slocum said.
“Sure, I’ll let the boy go. Let him go, Bodine.”
Bodine let Timmy go, then stepped back behind the comer of the bank, while Timmy stood there for a moment, looking around as if unable to believe he had been released.
“Come toward me, Timmy,” Slocum shouted.
“Yeah, boy. Go toward him,” Caulder said. Caulder and Bodine also slipped back out of sight.
Slocum didn’t like this. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Why did everyone on the street suddenly get behind cover. The hair stood up on the back of his neck.
Timmy didn’t have the same sense of trepidation, and, smiling, he started toward Manuel’s café. It looked as if everything would be all right, but when he reached the middle of the street, Bodine suddenly stepped around the comer of the bank and fired, hitting Timmy in the back.
“No!” Slocum shouted. “Bodine, you son of a bitch! I’m going to kill you!”
Timmy fell, facedown, in the dirt. From the way he was lying, Slocum knew he was dead.
“I hope all you good people of Prosperity saw that,” Caulder shouted. “You good people who are hiding in your houses, under your beds, behind your women’s skirts. I hope you saw what happens to people who don’t know who their real friends are.”
“Caulder! Caulder, get me out of here!” Draper shouted.
“Don’t you worry none, Mr. Draper,” Caulder replied. “We’re goin’ to get you out of there. Slocum, you got anything to say?”
Slocum had been keeping his eyes on the comer of the building where Bodine had gone. He knew that Bodine would eventually take a peek around the comer, and when he did, he was going to be ready for him. He rested his forearm on the windowsill to help steady his pistol, and he waited.
“Come on, Slocum, what do you say?” Caulder said again. “Why don’t you be sensible and turn Draper and MacTavish over to us? If you do that, we’ll let you ride out of town.”
“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” Slocum called back.
“Believe what?”
“That you would just let me ride out of town?”
Caulder laughed. “Well, I guess you got that all figured out, haven’t you? No, the truth is, I’m afraid it’s too late for that. I’m afraid it’s going to have to end for you, right here.”
“How about facing me down?” Slocum called. “Just you and me?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Caulder shouted back.
“I’m not the only one who would like it,” Slocum said. “you know yourself, ever since I arrived, the whole town has been trying to get us together. What do you say? You want to do it?”
All the while Slocum was talking, he was keeping his eye on the comer of the building where he had seen Bodine go. Then his vigil was rewarded. Slocum saw the brim of a hat appear, then a part of the crown, and finally a sliver of face. Slocum cocked his pistol, aimed, took a breath, and let half of it out. He waited until the head was far enough around the comer for Bodine to take a look at what was going on. When the Bodine’s eye appeared, Slocum touched the trigger. His pistol barked and Bodine spun around, then fell into the alley with a bullet hole just above his eye.
“Jesus, Caulder! Did you see that?” another voice shouted. “How did he do that?”
“Take it easy,” Cauder said. “Bodine got a little careless, that’s all.
“I’m gettin’ out of here!” someone shouted.
Slocum saw the flash of a pistol shot, and a bullet came crashing through the window of the café. Looking outside, Slocum saw that a Crown Ranch rider had left his hiding place and was making a mad dash across the street to get to another position. A the cowboy ran, he continued to fire toward the café.
Slocum fired back once. His bullet caught the cowboy high in the chest, and he pitched forward, halfway across the street, ironically falling across Timmy’s body.
There were two people on the roof of the bank across the street and they both fired at Slocum. Slocum returned fire. One of the shooters pitched forward clutching his stomach. He tumbled off the roof. Slocum missed the second shooter, but his shot was close enough to send the man scurrying for cover.
“Draper,” Slocum said. “Tell them to quit shooting.”
Another volley of bullets came crashing through the windows of the café. By now all the glass was gone, but the bullets whipped through the curtains, smashed into the tables and crockery, and slammed into the wall on the opposite side of the room.
“Quit shooting,” Draper called.
“I don’t think they heard you.”
“I said quit shooting!” Draper called again.
“That’s no good,” Slocum said. “They can’t hear you. Get up front, near the window.”
“What?”
“Do it!” Slocum ordered.
Sweating and shaking in fear, Draper walked to the front window.
“My God! Are you crazy?” Draper shouted in terror. “Caulder! Quit shooting! For God’s sake, quit shooting!”
“Hold your fire, men, hold your fire!” Caulder ordered. “Mr. Draper, are you all right?”
“Yes,” Draper said. “But I won’t be, if you don’t stop this.”
“All right, Mr. Draper, whatever you say,” Caulder replied. “We’ll find some other way to get you out of there.”
With the gunfire temporarily silenced, Slocum heard the sound of a distant train whistle. He picked up the shotgun and shoved it under Draper’s chin.
“What are you doing?” Draper asked.
“Hear the train?” Slocum replied. “What do you say we go down to the depot and meet it?”