East of the River (10 page)

“I'm not sure,” Clint said. “It seems to be why I'm in Dexter, to help people.”

“Who else?”

“Never mind,” Clint said. “Let's finish our pie and get you to your hotel room. Then I'll see what I can find out.”

“Okay.”

 

“I'm fine, really,” she said, when they got to her hotel room door.

“I just wanted to make sure you got here,” Clint said.

She unlocked the door and opened it.

“I can't help thinking I should help you—”

“Go in and lie down,” he said. “I'll come back and let you know if I find out anything.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. She was tall enough to do it without having to stand on her toes.

“Come back anyway,” she said.

 

Beau locked the livery and then walked toward town. He was starving, and was thinking of nothing but having something to eat.

“Okay,” Mort said, “he's gone.”

He and Sam came out from alongside the stable. They'd been standing there waiting, figuring that Beau had to leave sometime.

“Now what?” Sam asked.

“Now we get inside,” Mort said, “and take a look around.”

Sam started for the front door.

“No, Sammy,” Mort said, “back door, so nobody sees us.”

“Okay.”

They went to the smaller back door, which was fairly easy to force. Once inside, they started going stall to stall, looking at the horses.

“What are we lookin' for?” Sam asked, staring at the ground.

Mort was about to answer when he saw the big black horse.

“That,” he said, pointing.

“Wow,” Sam said.

Mort moved forward toward the horse, but as soon as he got within striking distance the animal kicked out. Mort narrowly avoided having his head kicked off.

“Is that it?” Sam asked.

“Look there,” Mort said, pointing to the ground in the stall. “Look at that track.”

“It's big.”

“It's not only big,” Mort said. “That's it.”

“Okay,” Sam said, “so whoever owns this horse was in our barn?”

“Yes.”

“So all we gotta do is find the owner.”

“Right.”

“And how do we do that?”

“We're gonna have to talk to that liveryman again,” Mort said, “but this time a little harder.”

Clint was walking away from Hannie's hotel when he heard his name being called. He turned and saw Beau from the livery running across the street toward him.

“Hey, Adams.”

“Hello, Beau. Is everything all right with my horse?” Clint asked.

“Well, that depends.”

“On what?”

“There was a couple of men at my place looking for a big horse.”

“A big horse?”

“One that would leave really big hoofprints behind?” Beau said.

Damn, Clint thought. Had someone tracked him from the Archer place?

“Two men?”

“One older, one real young.” Then he looked puzzled. “But they sorta looked alike.”

“Like brothers?” Clint asked.

“Hey, yeah,” Beau said, “like brothers.”

“Where are you going now, Beau?”

“I'm gonna get me somethin' to eat.”

“Then back to work?”

“Well . . . thought I'd get me a few drinks before I went back.”

“That's good,” Clint said. “Stay where there are people.”

“Huh?”

“Just don't go back to the livery today,” Clint said, “at all.”

“I got to bed the stock down.”

“Okay, then wait for me,” Clint said. “Don't go back without me. Okay?”

“Well, okay.”

“Meet me at the Ox Bow, and stay there until I come. Got it?”

“I don't understand it,” Beau said, “but I got it.”

“Good enough,” Clint said. “Go ahead and get yourself something to eat.”

“On my way.”

As Beau walked away, Clint realized he was biting off more than he could chew now. First he was helping the deputy marshal, and now he was helping Hannie Welch. But he couldn't very well search for Doyle while the Archers were searching for him.

Except that even if they did find Eclipse, and even if they did realize that the big Darley was the one who had left the tracks behind, they still didn't know who owned the horse.

He decided to go to the livery and check on Eclipse.

“We can't kill Doyle,” Thomas Archer said.

“Why not?” John asked.

They were in the back room of the store, which had been closed for several hours.

“If we kill him in town, it's gonna bring heat down on us,” Thomas said. “And if we're plannin' on hittin' this bank, we don't need any heat.”

“Ah, I still don't know about hittin' this bank,” John said. “In our own town?”

“I told you, Johnny,” Thomas said. “Nobody's gonna suspect us in our own town—as long as we don't kill Doyle here.”

“So are you sayin' we don't kill Doyle,” John asked, “or we don't kill him here, in town?”

“It'd be better if we could just get him to leave town on his own, so we don't have to kill him,” Thomas said. “But yeah, if we can't get him to leave, we'll have to take him out somewhere and kill him.”

“There's just one thing, Tom.”

“What?”

“I'm no killer.”

“John,” Thomas said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder, “we killed a man on our last job.”

“That wasn't me,” John said. “You and Mort did that.”

“Yeah, and if we hadn't done it, you'd be dead,” Thomas said. “That guy had a bead on you, brother.”

“I know that!” John said. “I-I just don't know if I can kill Doyle in cold blood, you know?”

“Don't worry.” Thomas patted his brother now. “Don't worry. You won't have to. Mort or me, we'll take care of it. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Suddenly, the back door opened. Mort and Sam came rushing in.

“We found the horse!” Sam said excitedly.

“Where?” Thomas asked.

“In a livery at the south end of town,” Mort said.

“That's the one run by Beau Morgan,” John said.

“Yeah,” Mort said, “we met him.”

“He pulled a gun on us,” Sam said.

“Jesus,” John said, “you didn't kill him, did you?”

“No,” Mort said. “Little brother here wanted to use his gun, but I stopped him.”

“Sammy,” Thomas said, “you don't even know how to use that.”

“You're supposed to teach me, Tom!”

“I know that,” Thomas said, “and I will. Just don't touch that damn thing until I do. You'll get yourself killed.”

“Aw, Tommy—”

“Shut up, Sam,” Thomas said. “Mort, whose horse is it?”

“That we don't know,” Mort said, “but we can find out tomorrow, or even tonight, from your friend Beau.”

“I tell you what,” Thomas said. “Why don't you leave that to me. Or rather, John, here.” He squeezed his brother's shoulder. “He's been known to have a drink or two with ol' Beau.”

“Yeah, at the Ox Bow,” John said.

“Why don't you see if you can find ol' Beau and buy him a drink, John?” Thomas said. “I'll talk to Mort and Sam about what we were just talkin' about.”

“What's that?” Mort asked.

“Doyle,” Thomas said, “we were talkin' about Doyle.”

When Clint got to the livery, he found the front door locked tight. He went around to the back, and found that that door had been forced. He entered without drawing his gun. He had a feeling whoever had forced the door had been and gone.

He found Eclipse standing quietly in his stall.

“How you doin', big boy?” he asked. He ran his hands over the horse, checking for any damage. He was relieved to find none.

He looked at the other horses while he was there, and found nothing unusual. He left by the back door, figuring he'd return later with Beau.

He headed back toward the center of town.

 

When John Archer entered the Ox Bow, he didn't see Beau anywhere. It was about the time of day that Beau had a meal, so he decided to have a beer and wait for him.

“How you doin', John?” Newly Hagen asked.

“Okay, Newly,” John said. “I'll have a beer.”

“Comin' up.”

When Newly returned with the beer, John asked, “Has Beau been in yet?”

“Beau? From the livery? No, not tonight. Should be in soon, though. He likes to have a few before he puts the stock to bed.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Hagen wiped a spot on the bar and then moved away. John hung his head over his beer, deep in thought. There was a lot of activity going on around him, but he didn't notice.

He was thinking about killing Doyle.

 

Eddie Randle—Deputy U.S. Marshal Eddie Reed—came out of his office to take a look at the house. The bar seemed full, and it looked like a good night as he walked around. He was about to go back to his office when he saw John Archer hunched over a beer at the bar. It had been a while since any of the Archers had been in his place. He decided to check it out.

He moved up alongside John, who didn't notice him. For someone who made his money robbing others, the man was a little too easy to sneak up on.

“Hey, John.”

Archer started, turned his head.

“Oh, hi, Eddie,” John said. “How're ya doin'?”

“Why so glum?” Eddie asked.

“Huh? Oh, I ain't glum,” John said. “I'm just . . . thinkin'.”

“About what? A woman? Girl trouble?”

“Naw, nothin' like that,” John said. “Just . . . brother problems, ya know? Sometimes they get on my nerves.”

“I wouldn't know about that,” Randle said. “I got no brothers. No sisters either.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn't have any brothers either,” John said.

“Well,” Randle said, “I'll leave you to finish your beer. Hey, Newly?”

“Yeah, Boss?”

“Give John one on the house when he's finished.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” John said.

“Don't mention it.”

Randle left John at the bar and went back to his office.

 

Clint thought it was odd that he couldn't locate Sheriff Perry. He'd gone to the office and found it locked. He couldn't even find the deputy. The law was keeping a very low profile.

After about an hour he decided to go to the Ox Bow to get Beau.

 

As Beau entered the saloon, John turned and spotted him. When Beau saw John, it came to him who the two men at the livery had to have been. He knew John from the saloon, and he knew his brother Tom from the general store. He knew they had two other brothers, but he rarely—if ever—saw them.

The men at the livery had to have been Mort and Sam Archer.

John waved him over and said, “Buy you a beer?”

“Sure,” Beau said, “why not?”

When Clint came into the Ox Bow, he saw Beau standing at the bar with John Archer. Neither of the men saw him, so he kept going, all the way to the back, to Eddie Randle's office door. He knocked and entered.

“You see John Archer out there?” Randle asked.

“Yes,” Clint said, “I see he's having a beer with Beau, from the livery.”

“Oh, Beau wasn't there when I saw him.”

Clint sat down. “You have a conversation with John?”

“Just a short one, about brothers. He says sometimes they get on his nerves.”

“Well, Mort and Sam tracked my horse to Beau's livery,” Clint said. “He wouldn't let them see him, but I think they broke in and took a look.”

“Even if they found your horse, they don't know who it belongs to.”

“Not yet.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“I think it's a question of what we're gonna do,” Clint said, “and then what they're gonna do.”

“And do you have an answer to any of those questions?” Randle asked.

“Actually,” Clint said, “I think I'm getting an idea.”

“About what?”

“About a way to get them to hit when and where we want them to.”

Randle sat back, laced his fingers behind his head, and said, “This I wanna hear.”

Randle listened to Clint's idea, nodding as he did, and never interrupting.

“So let me get this straight,” he said, when Clint was done. “You want the Archers to think that a lot of money is comin' in to the Dexter bank—”

“A
lot
of money,” Clint said.

“Right, a
lot
of money, enough so they'll think that this could be their big score.”

“Their last score,” Clint said. “Every gang I ever dealt with was looking for that one big, last score.”

“And then when they do hit the bank, we're waitin' for them.”

“Right.”

“And how would we get them to think that?”

“You have to get somebody to send a telegram to the bank, telling them about it,” Clint said. “Or we have to get somebody at the bank to plant the lie.”

“Like the bank manager?”