A Coffin Full Of Dollars (20 page)

Shadrach opened the packet, took a sandwich and pushed the others over.

"Dig in. If you're as starved as I am, this venison will hit the spot."

He had the sandwich halfway to his mouth when the hunter suddenly lunged and knocked it out of his hand. Meat and bread went flying into the underbrush.

"Damn your soul!" Shadrach yelled, red in the face from anger. "What in hell do you think you're doing?"

"Maybe saving your life," the other said grimly. He lifted the top slice of bread from the second sandwich. Beneath it the meat was thickly sprinkled with coarse white crystals. "A good cook like Molly would never shovel the salt on that thick, and I never heard of
anybody
putting sugar on venison. Maybe I've just got a nasty, suspicious mind, but..."

"
Poison
," Shadrach croaked. "You don't suppose that sonofabitching Dandy...?"

"No, I don't. Dandy might steal his mother's false teeth if there was a market for them, but I simply can't picture him as the cold-blooded killer type. I think it's more likely Apachito has had somebody watching every move Dandy made. When he was seen hiding a package in the very same place we hid the gun belts, it wouldn't take any great brain to figure out it was something meant for us. So that skunk would open the package, realize what a perfect opportunity he had and add a little seasoning of his own that wasn't in the recipe. It was just luck that some of the stuff dribbled out and I happened to notice them."

He got up, found the pieces of Shadrach's sandwich and reassembled it, carefully brushing off all dirt and bits of leaves. He put the restored sandwich on the bottom of the pile and rewrapped the package, taking care to fold the paper exactly as it had been when they got it. Shadrach watched the proceeding with bright-eyed interest.

"Whatever scheme you've got cooking in that skull of yours, I only hope it's dirty."

"Not dirty enough," the hunter said grimly. "I'd prefer to pin that buzzard down and hand-feed him these sandwiches to the last crumb. But since that isn't practical at the moment, I'll have to settle for sticking a pin in that overblown vanity of his. Come on."

He picked up his rifle and, carrying the package of sandwiches, led the way back toward the outlaw headquarters. They reached the edge of the woods below the wagon park and peered cautiously out.

The outlaws had a cookfire going in front of Apachito's headquarters cabin and were lounging around, waiting for their breakfast to be ready. Having been deprived of their supper the previous night, their whole hungry attention was focused on the fire and the food.

A bed of live coals had been raked to the edge of the fire and on this a number of coffee pots bubbled and steamed. A large iron kettle of beans was suspended from a pole. A quarter of beef was impaled on an iron spit over the fire, sizzling and crackling as the fat dripped out. The meat appeared to have been freshly butchered so the gang must have a small herd of cattle penned somewhere close by.

From time to time one of the outlaws rose and languidly gave the spitted beef a quarter-turn. The mingled aroma of coffee, beans and roasting meat tormented the hungry pair in the underbrush. Shadrach's stomach issued a loud, indignant protest and he swore under his breath.

Further out by the circus wagons there was a bustle of activity. The dressing tent was up and enclosed. Hunk and Molly were setting up the trapeze, with Dandy prancing around and barking instructions. The planks for the stage had been lost in the flood but stakes had been driven and a rope strung to mark off a comparable area. The white horse for Cora's trick riding act was picketed close by.

"Better than I'd dared hope for," the hunter murmured. He thrust the package of sandwiches into Shadrach's hands. "Hang on to these and stay put while I go stir up a little trouble."

"More power to you, partner," Shadrach said.

The bounty hunter worked his way cautiously around to a point in the woods almost opposite the cookfire. Scrounging through the underbrush he collected a generous heap of small dry twigs and broken branches. Plucking six cartridges from his belt he poked them into the pile at various places, then snapped a match alight and poked it into the base of the heap around its circumference.

The tinder-dry twigs flamed up instantly. The hunter snatched up his rifle and scurried back to where Shadrach was still crouched in the brush. The latter eyed him curiously.

"Mind telling me what delightful evil you've been up to?"

"Just creating diversions, old partner. Wait around and be ready for opportunities as they unfold."

Suddenly there was the loud crash of a gunshot from the woods behind headquarters. The outlaws shot to their feet all attention toward the woods behind, snatching out their guns. A moment later there were two more shots, close together.

"Don't tell me," Shadrach said. "Let me guess. You built a hot fire back there somewhere and dumped a handful of cartridges into it. Now the heat is setting them off and making these stupids think either they're under attack or a wild gunfight is going on back there in the woods. Congratulations, old chap."

"Don't mention it. Just be ready to make the most of it in case it actually works."

The outlaws had their guns out and were milling around in confusion, no one certain exactly where the sound of the shot had come from. Two more shells exploded in swift succession, then a single shot after a brief silence. Apachito yelled something and raced in the direction of the shots, with his gang streaming after him.

"Come on," the hunter barked, as the last outlaw vanished into the woods. "If you figure on a square meal today,
move—pronto!
The moment they stumble onto my fire, they'll figure out how they were tricked and come boiling back here, thirsting for our blood. Dump the meat into the kettle with the beans. I'll help you carry it as soon as I grab the tools we need."

He was snatching up spoons, tin cups, a razor-sharp Bowie knife stuck in a grease-stained section of log obviously used as a carving block. Then, lugging the kettle of beans and beef between them, they plunged into the woods only seconds before Apachito and his cursing pack burst out. Behind them, the bounty hunter left the packet of poisoned sandwiches in plain sight as a fair exchange.

They were deep in the woods when they heard the yells of rage with the discovery of the missing food and utensils. The two exchanged faint grins.

"Now," Shadrach said, "I know what they mean by heavenly music."

"I heard about a fellow once," the hunter said, "had a big bunch of singing cats. He'd line 'em all up and run back and forth, stepping on one tail and then another. The cat whose tail got stepped on would yowl. Each cat had a little different sounding yowl, so by picking his cats, he could play real tunes. I got a feelin' if we tromp Apachito and his boys just right, we might get us an act with Dandy's circus."

They stumbled onto a perfect hideaway, a deep pocket in the base of the cliff, screened from the front by masses of fallen rock. There they feasted like kings on the stolen breakfast For added seasoning they had only to visualize the rage and frustration of Apachito and his hungry pack. Twice they heard the outlaws beating back and forth through the adjoining woods, but the chance of their hiding place being discovered was so remote that neither even interrupted his meal.

Afterward they carried the kettle of leftovers back into the woods and hung it from a stub of broken branch, high enough up to be reasonably safe from ants and marauding animals. The leafy branches hung down around it to hide it from casual eyes.

"What do we do now?" Shadrach asked. "Got anything special in mind for hell-raising?"

"Sort of. But right now I've got a hankering to backtrack along that road in and see where it comes out into Crazy Woman Pass. It's wide enough for the circus wagons, so it's got to be more than just a goat track. Then why haven't any of the posses stumbled onto it during all the years they've been hunting for Apachito's hideout? Dandy says they drove into the pass and stayed right on the only road there was, but they ended up in here. And he swears there wasn't a side road or a fork they could have blundered onto by mistake."

"Ordinarily," Shadrach said musingly, "I wouldn't believe anything Dandy says on a wagonload of Bibles. But I can't see how he'd stand to gain a penny by lying about the road. Anyhow, you've raised the questions so let's go see if we can find us any of the answers."

CHAPTER 23

The morning sun had barely cleared the trees but the airless dressing tent was already like an oven. Droplets of perspiration glittered along the edge of Molly Deever's hair and across her upper lip. She patted them with a wisp of sodden handkerchief and stared at her twin daughters.

Cora and Laura wore identical spangled tights. Everything about them, from their hairdos to their slippers were exactly matching. Laura had even discovered a smudge of dust on one of her slippers, whereupon Cora had added a similar smudge to her own slipper. Seeing them together was like seeing one girl and her mirror image. Molly shook her head in wonder.

"I've watched you two grow up for going on eighteen years and sometimes, looking at you, I still can't believe it."

Cora laughed. "Poor mother. We used to drive you half out of your mind when we were kids, didn't we?"

"You still do," Molly said grimly, "when you come up with crackpot schemes like this one. I don't like it. I don't like it one little bit. Those aren't men out there. They're animals—blood-mad beasts. If they caught on to how they were being fooled, they wouldn't hesitate to kill you, or worse."

Laura giggled. "A fate worse than death, you mean? Every time I used to hear that phrase, I'd almost die of curiosity. I still do, in fact."

"Well, don't choose today to have your curiosity satisfied," Molly snapped.

Cora had parted the flaps at the front of the tent to a narrow slit and was peering out. She turned back, grinning, swinging her hips in a slow, suggestive circle.

"He's still out there, so let's get the big seduction act started. What's the exact time, Mother?"

Molly consulted a thin gold ladies' watch pinned to her bosom. "Exactly nine minutes after eight. But I still don't think you ought to..."

"We'll sit down and have a heart-to-heart talk about it
w
hen I get back," Cora interrupted. She blew a kiss to her mother and gave her sister a casual wave. "Eight-thirty on the nose should do it. Good luck, Toots."

"To you too, Cookie."

Cora peered out through the rear flaps, then stepped on out and disappeared. Laura waved to her mother and stepped out the front.

*****

Bug-Eye Kibbedge was hot, hungry, bored and resentful. Apachito had sent him out at daybreak to keep watch on the circus people and report any suspicious activity. His breakfast, he had been promised, would be delivered to him shortly. But not one morsel had he received. Worse, the breeze was right to bring the aroma of roasting venison and freshly baked bread from the circus cookfire to his quivering nostrils.

The only break in the monotony was when he trailed the circus man and saw him hide a package in a thicket behind the wagon park. He had rushed to report to Apachito and found him lolling with the others around the big fire where a quarter of beef was roasting and coffee boiling. The swarthy chieftain listened to his report and nodded.

"Just about what I expected. All right, Bug-Eye. Get on back and keep watching."

"Dammit, chief, I'm starved. Why can't I wait and get my breakfast before I go back?"

Apachito's brittle temper, already ragged from the loss of his prisoners and a supply of weapons, boiled over.

He yelled, "Because I told you to go back
now
! You'll get your breakfast when I'm goddam good and ready to send it out to you. I promised the boys there'd be a hanging for the last act of the circus today. You give me any more trouble and, by God, I won't have to look any further for the neck to fit the noose."

Bug-Eye scuttled back to his post, but nearly two hours had dragged by with still no sign of the food. Instead he had heard a volley of distant shots, then a wild commotion and loud, angry yells, interspersed with long periods of silence. He shifted the rifle across his lap and tried to find a more comfortable position on the hard log.

Behind him, dry leaves rustled and a twig snapped. He snatched up the rifle and started to turn around.

A soft voice said, "You wouldn't shoot a girl for wanting to meet a handsome fellow like you, now would you?"

Bug-Eye completed his turn. His mouth flew open and the bulging eyes that had given him his nickname bulged still further. The girl in the body-hugging tights undulated her sensational figure and her smile was an open invitation.

"How did you know I was here?" Bug-Eye blurted.

"You've been watching us all morning," Cora said, wagging a chiding finger, "but you didn't know that all that time,
I
was watching
you
. You do something to me, handsome."

"I d-do?" Bug-Eye croaked. "Wh-what?"

"Oh, I couldn't tell you. It wouldn't be ladylike and proper." And that's no lie, Cora told herself. If I told him the truth, my language wouldn't be either ladylike or proper. She added, "But maybe I could
show
you if we were in a really private place, just you and me."