Shoot Angel! (6 page)

‘
You
try that clever talk on Trench an’ you won’t have a bone that ain’t
broken! An’ I ain’t jokin’!’

As soon as the gates were open Koch rolled
the wagon into the compound. With Duggan following on foot Koch
took the wagon over to the largest of the wooden buildings.

‘
I’ll
go find Trench,’ Duggan said and vanished inside.

Koch climbed down from the wagon. He strolled
round to the rear, fishing a key from his shirt pocket.

‘
You
get any ideas about running, Angel, just take a look round,’ he
warned as he unlocked the manacles securing Angel to the wagon
floor.

Angel had already taken a good
look round. His initial count had
totaled six armed guards. He hadn’t missed
the wooden tower either, rising to about fifteen feet, and placed
so that it gave anyone perched on the covered platform an
unobstructed view over the whole compound. On the face of it the
place appeared escape-proof. But Angel didn’t believe in such
theories. The compound had been created to imprison men, by men,
and that led to the natural conclusion—it could be defeated by a
man.

He leaned against the rear of the wagon,
apparently unconcerned by his surroundings. Koch stood a few yards
off, watching Angel intently.

‘
He
the one?’

Angel glanced up at the new
voice. The man standing beside Duggan had to be Trench. Tall and
heavy-built, with a broad, loose-fleshed face, Trench gave off an
air of brooding menace. He
glared at Angel with fierce, strangely pale
eyes.

‘
Duggan tells me you fancy yourself a hard bastard! That
right, Angel?’

Angel didn
’t reply. He didn’t figure to
give Trench any excuse to use the whip looped around his thick
waist.

‘
Aw,
he’s done gone and swallowed his tongue!’ Duggan
grinned.

‘
Trench’ll shake it loose,’ Koch said. ‘What say,
Trench?’

‘
We
got ways’d make a wooden Injun talk,’ Trench agreed. ‘Now, you boys
can go home, an’ me an’ Mister Angel can get
acquainted.’

Duggan and Koch climbed back on to the wagon.
Angel stepped aside as Koch turned it around.

‘
Pity
we had to lose you so soon,’ Duggan said as the wagon rolled on by
Angel.

‘
Ease
your mind, sonny,’ Angel whispered. ‘We’ll be meeting up again
’fore long! I promise!’

The smile faded from
Duggan
’s
face, and then he was gone, the wagon rattling across the compound
towards the gates.

‘
All
right, Angel,’ Trench said. ‘Let’s move! This ain’t no old ladies
home!’

Trench called over one of the armed guards
and Angel was escorted across the compound. He was taken to one of
the smaller huts. The interior was bare except for a row of wooden
cots running the length of the narrow building. The air was hot,
stale, reeking of sweat and urine.

‘
We
try not to make our guests too comfortable,’ Trench said. ‘They
don’t spend too much time in here. Plenty of work for ’em building
the new road over the mountain. Come dawn tomorrow that’s where
you’ll be, Mister Angel!’

‘
Beats
sitting around,’ Angel smiled.

‘
Let’s
see how many jokes you tell after a day up on that pile of rock,’
Trench said. He walked along the row of cots, stopping beside one.
‘This one’s vacant. Use it, Angel. Yeah, here’s the way we run
things. Only way in and out of this hut is by the door. Windows all
barred. Floor’s dirt and hard as rock. You don’t come or go without
instruction. Stop outside anytime day or night without getting the
word and you’ll get a bullet. And my boys have orders to shoot to
kill. Just remember that and you’ll stay alive. Don’t matter to me
one way or the other. It’s your life. Understand?’

‘
It’s
clear,’ Angel said. ‘What does a man do when he wants to
pee?’

‘
There’s a bucket in the corner over there,’ Trench said.
‘Every man in the hut takes turns emptying it each morning.’ He
grinned at Angel. ‘You got any complaints?’

‘
Working on a few.’

‘
After
today, Angel, you ain’t going to have much time to think about
anything. So I’ll leave you to it.’

The door thudded shut and Angel
was left alone. He moved to one of the barred windows beside
the door and
watched Trench and the guard making their way across the bleached,
heat-hazed compound. He stayed by the window for a time, observing,
silently calculating distances between buildings, how far from this
point to that point, where the stables were. It was all information
to be stored, held in reserve for possible use in the future.
Eventually he moved back into the hut, sitting on the edge of his
cot. Angel absently ran his hand over the lumpy, straw-filled
mattress. It and the single, greasy blanket were filthy. Angel
sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d shared his bed with a
couple of thousand bugs!

He sat back and took stock of
the situation. Apart from the fact that things had gone a little
further than he might have intended, at least his appearance in
Liberty, asking questions about Harry Culp, had created some
ripples in somebody
’s dirty little pool! Angel was sure that Cranford, the
judge, was in on it. So was Sheriff Sherman, and possibly the two
deputies. Perhaps even Trench. All he needed now was proof of Harry
Culp’s stay here at the camp. A nagging little voice somewhere at
the back of his mind was persisting in the notion that Harry Culp
was most probably dead. Angel hated himself for allowing the
thoughts, but the more he pondered on it, the stronger it grew.
Harry Culp had ridden into Liberty with seventy-five thousand
dollars in cold cash on him. Somewhere along the line he had fallen
foul of Liberty’s crooked law, probably in the form of a set-up,
involving Louella Brill. That would explain
the fifty dollars she’d
earned.

It wouldn
’t have been the first time
that a stranger to an isolated little town had found himself hauled
before the local court on a cooked-up charge. The unfortunate
victim, dazed by the sudden turn of events, would find himself
charged and convicted and on his way to months of hard labor, long
before he had time to say a word. The local citizens, who paid
taxes for the upkeep of their county penal system, would figure
they were getting good value for their money when they saw that the
convicted felons were repaying their debt to society by building
the new road the county needed so badly. Every prisoner in the care
of the county had to be housed and fed, equipment required repair
or replacement. That meant a sizeable flow of cash.

If Angel
’s thoughts were moving along
the right tracks, then a good proportion of that money was finding
its way into the pockets of Judge Cranford and Sheriff Sherman. And
that brought him right back to Harry Culp and the seventy-five
thousand, and probably the reason why Angel had been so promptly
removed from the scene. Somebody was sitting on all that money.
That same person was likely to be hiding a murder too. Which added
another dimension to Angel’s position. If Culp was dead, the money
concealed, the guilty parties weren’t going to want too many
witnesses walking around. Angel felt suddenly very
expendable.

It was starting to get dark when the
work-parties returned to the camp. Angel heard the rumble of the
heavy wagons filling the compound. He stood by a window, staring
through the bars, and watched the groups of weary, filthy prisoners
being unloaded from the wagons by armed guards. As soon as every
man had been accounted for the prisoners were ordered to their
huts. Angel studied the group approaching the hut he was in. There
were nine of them. By the time they reached the hut he had picked
out the one who would have appointed himself boss. Angel knew that
he would have to stand up to this man and beat him, if the need
arose. Only then would he get what he wanted.

Angel was back on his cot when
the door opened and the men crowded in, eager to get a look at the
new man. The one Angel had judged as the leader of the group
ordered the door closed.
He alone moved across the hut to stand at the foot
of Angel’s cot. Angel ignored him.

The man was as tall as Angel, powerfully
built. He had dark, handsome features, marred by a thin scar
running down his left cheek. His thin hair was black, curling at
the nape of his neck. Large hands, with long, muscular fingers,
flexed impatiently as he stared at Angel, silently demanding to be
noticed.

‘
Hey!’
he said at last, anger in his tone at having to attract attention
in such a mundane way.

No response.

‘
You
deaf, asshole?’

‘
No.
And the name’s Angel. But to you it’ll be Mister Angel!’ Somebody
laughed. The man at the foot of Angel’s cot glanced in the
direction of the group of prisoners. The laugh froze. Silence
returned.

‘
Well
my name’s Capucci, and I don’t take any kind of crap from assholes
like you!’

Angel smiled.
‘There’s a joke
there somewhere, Capucci, but I’m damned if I’m going to explain it
to you.’ He stood up and placed himself directly in front of the
man. ‘Now the way I see it we all got trouble enough just being
here. I don’t need any more. But if you gotta prove you’re some
kind of big feller round here don’t expect me to sit back and let
it happen. I’ll give you first try and then I’ll put you down so
hard your balls are going to drop right off!’

For a long moment Capucci
stared at Angel, as
though he hadn’t heard correctly. But then he realized that
Angel had said what he’d heard, and being the man he was Capucci
couldn’t do anything other than react violently. He had already
made his first mistake. He had allowed his feelings to show on his
face. His eyes telegraphed his intentions, and Angel was already
countering Capucci’s punch before it had even reached any kind of
momentum.

As Angel
’s left arm blocked Capucci’s
savage swing, batting the big fist harmlessly aside, his own right,
sweeping up from hip-level, smashed across the side of Capucci’s
jaw. The sound of the blow came loud in the silent hut, the
stunning impact throwing Capucci off balance, twisting him
sideways. His legs caught the edge of one of the cots and he went
down with a solid crash. Capucci’s body arched once, lifting from
the dirt floor in a spasm of agony, then he dropped and lay
still.

Angel stepped over
Capucci
’s
motionless body. He strode across the hut to stand before the
murmuring group of prisoners. Giving them a scathing glance he
said:

‘
Who
else wants to try? Come on, you sons of bitches! I’m just in the
mood. Those bastards down in Liberty kicked enough shit out of me
so’s I’m good and mad. Well?’

Nobody spoke. Nobody moved.
They all stared at Angel with enough resentment for the whole
world. But that was as far as it went. Eventually one
of them cleared his
throat.

‘
Ain’t
any of us wants to tangle with you, mister. Capucci—he just
naturally figures he has to show how tough he is.’

‘
How
tough he was,’ corrected a scrawny little man. He scuttled out from
the group, eyeing Angel closely. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and
down in his thin neck. He reminded Angel of a damn vulture! ‘Hey,
Angel, what’s so special about you?’

‘
I
didn’t know there
was.’ Angel watched the little man, trying to read what was
reflected in the bright, beady eyes.

‘
Then
why’d Trench warn us off talking to you?’

‘
He do
that?’ Angel was intrigued. ‘Doesn’t seem to have stopped
you.’

‘
Hell,
Angel, Trench may be hard but we don’t scare all that easy. I been
in pens so tough they make this place seem like home. Trench ain’t
no more than a big fart! He’s all wind. Why, take that goddam whip
away from him an’ he’d be no different the rest of us.’

The little man led Angel away
from the front of the hut. They paused beside the
man
’s
cot.

‘
What
do they call you?’ Angel asked.

The little man grinned, showing yellowed,
crooked teeth in hard shrunken gums.

‘
Birdy,’ he said and laughed shrilly.

‘
So what have you heard about me,
Birdy?’

‘
Enough. I hear pretty good. Couple of the guards were
talkin’ and Birdy was listening. ’Pears you’re a special case. That
was why Trench warned us off. Trouble is something like that just
makes me curious.’ Birdy glanced round to make sure nobody was
hanging around. ‘The way I heard, it, Angel, this place ain’t about
to be very healthy for you!’

‘
Is
that the way it was
for Harry Culp?’ Angel asked, eyes fixed on Birdy’s face. He knew
he was taking a chance mentioning Culp’s name but he figured it was
worth the risk. Birdy swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple almost
vanished. For a fleeting second Angel thought he’d said too much.
‘Come on, Birdy, tell me!’