Showdown (18 page)

“Damn!” Henrietta said.

Fuller made a dash for the livery and made it. The last anyone saw of him for that day and a couple more days was Fuller on a mule, riding bareback, heading for the timber. He was dressed only in his long-handles.

After a long bath and dressing in clean clothes, Frank had his healing wounds checked by Doc Raven.

“They look good, Frank. Nothing I can do now. You'll have a permanent scar on the side of your head, but you've got a good head of hair that will cover it.”

“How about the men's wounds?”

“Nothing serious. They all just had the stuffing beat out of them. Some of them lost teeth.”

“And one lost his wife,” Frank replied.

“For a fact,” Doc Raven said with a smile. “That's was Thompson's mule he stole getting away from his wife. Thompson told me a while ago that the mule will take him to the farm . . . eventually. Ross will probably sleep in the barn until Mavis calms down.”

“Did anyone take the knife away from her?”

“One of the ladies from the church got it. I gave Mavis a sedative that will keep her knocked out for hours.”

“Any news come in with the stage?”

“Nothing of any importance. You expecting any?”

“I don't think those outlaws have given up, Doc. I just don't see them giving up that easy.”

“What are you thinking, Frank?”

“That they'll come back here and pull something.”

“Why?”

“You're too cut off here. One snip with wire cutters on either side of town and you'd be easy targets for outlaws on the rampage.”

“We've got two stages a day now, Frank. The schedule was changed since the road opened.”

“Hours apart, Doc. Besides, so what? A driver and a guard are going to help you against forty or fifty heavily armed outlaws?”

“A lot of men in this town are good shots, Frank. You know that. War veterans and Indian fighters and buffalo hunters.”

“I know all that, Doc. But if the gang were to slip in close and hide, a few at a time, then strike real fast . . .” Frank shook his head. “Maybe I'm seeing danger where there is none. I hope so. I just can't understand why they gave up the way they did.”

“Well, that puzzles me too,” the doctor admitted. “But I can't see them attacking a town. Even the way you described it. Too many of them would get shot to pieces.”

“Maybe,” Frank said. “Well, anyway, I'm going to get some supper and then hit the hay.” He smiled. “Literally. I'm going to sleep in that little room in the livery.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“See you in the morning, Doc.”

Frank slept well and deeply that first night back in town, awakening about an hour before dawn, Dog asleep on the floor at the foot of the bunk. Frank put on water to boil for coffee, and then washed up, splashing cold water on his face to help him get the sleep out of his eyes. He stretched until his joints creaked, and then let Dog out to do his morning business.

Now fully awake, standing by the small potbellied stove, Frank could not shake the feeling that the outlaws had not yet finished with the freed hostages, the town, or with him. Especially with him.

Frank dressed in the new clothes he'd purchased at the general store, then sat down on the edge of the bunk. While he smoked and drank coffee, Frank carefully cleaned his six-gun and then his rifle. Maybe he was wrong about the outlaws attacking the town ... but he didn't think so. However, he didn't want to spread panic in the town with false rumors.

He stepped out of the livery into the cold early morning and walked to the cafe. It had just opened and he was the first customer. He ordered breakfast and a pot of coffee. He was just sugaring his coffee when Doc Raven walked in and sat down at the table with him.

“You're up early,” Frank commented.

“I've been thinking about what you said yesterday afternoon, about the outlaws attacking the town. Maybe you're right, Frank.”

“And you think we should do what?”

“I'll talk to a few people. But not the community at large. I don't want to start a panic.”

“Exactly my thinking, Doc.”

The men ate their breakfast, drank coffee, and smoked and talked for a time. Doc Raven excused himself, saying he had to check on a patient out in the country. “I'll be back by mid-morning, Frank. See you then.”

“Take care, Doc.”

Moments after Doc Raven walked out of the cafe, Old Bob walked in and sat down at the table with Frank. Before Frank could say a word, Bob said, “I been thinkin' about something, Frank. It's been wallowin' around in my head and I can't get shut of it.”

“Oh?”

Bob poured him a cup of coffee. “How come them no-counts who kidnapped the Easterners just up and rode off after you attacked the old fort?”

“I don't know. I've wondered the same thing for days.”

“I think they're up to something.”

Frank waited while Bob took a swallow of coffee.

“Don't make no sense that they would just up and ride off. Unless they figured you was a part of a big posse.”

“That could be it.”

“I think that mayhaps they might be ridin' back thisaway to hit the town.”

“So do I, Bob.”

“I talked to Phil at the saloon last night and he thinks the same way.”

“And you propose we do what?”

“Get ready for one hell of a fight.”

“How are you going to do that without alarming the whole town and setting off a panic?” Frank asked.

Bob shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know.”

“Well, when you figure that out, you let me know.”

“Riders coming in,” the waitress announced, walking over and staring out the front window. “Five of them.”

Bob twisted around in his chair and took a long look. “I don't know none of 'em. Never seen 'em before. But they shore look capable of startin' trouble.”

“You always announce the arrival of strangers?” Frank asked the waitress.

“No, sir,” she replied. “But since the trouble I've been suspicious. And I woke up this morning feeling sort of jumpy.”

The five men reined up in front of the saloon and sat their saddles for a moment. When they determined the saloon was closed, they dismounted and walked to the cafe and stepped inside.

“Mornin',” one said to the waitress. “How's about some coffee and some food?”

“Got plenty of coffee. Breakfast is bacon and eggs and fried potatoes with biscuits on the side.”

“Sounds good to us. Pour and serve.”

“Got any honey to sweeten them biscuits?” another asked.

“Cost you extra,” she replied.

“We can pay. Bring it on.”

Frank was stealing some hard looks at the five men while their attention was on the waitress. One of them looked familiar, but he couldn't put a name to the face or dredge up where he knew the man from. But he had definitely seen him before. He had never seen the other four.

“When's the livery open?” one of the strangers asked.

“When I get ready to open it,” Bob said. “And that's gonna be in about another hour or whenever I finish a pot of coffee. Whichever comes first.”

“We want to stable our horses when you do.”

“I didn't figure you wanted to buy the place,” Bob replied. “It ain't for sale noways.”

“You 'bout a cantankerous old coot, ain't you?” another of the hard cases asked. “What put the ants in your pants this early in the morning?”

“And you got a smart mouth for a newcomer to town,” Bob popped right back. “You better rein it in some.”

“If I don't?” the mouthy stranger asked.

“Then you and your horse can ride on,” Bob told him.

The man pushed back his chair and stood up. “I don't have to take that kind of crap from the likes of you!”

Frank stood up, his hand near the butt of his. 45. He said nothing. Just stood there.

“You buyin' into this argument, mister?” the hard case asked.

“Could be.” Frank's words were softly offered, but they held a clear note of warning.

“Then maybe my friends will decide to buy in too.”

“Then I reckon there'll be a lot of blood on the floor of this cafe,” Frank responded.

“That don't have to happen if that old coot would apologize.”

“When hell freezes over,” Bob said. He pushed back his chair and stood up, brushing back his coat, exposing a holstered pistol. “I ain't no gunfighter, but I reckon I can hook and draw in time to get lead in at least one of you.”

The stranger's friends pushed back their chairs and stood up. The situation in the cafe suddenly grew very tense.

“I know you,” the man Frank thought he'd seen before said to him. “I disremember your name, but I've seen you somewheres.”

“Could be.”

“You from Texas?”

“A long time ago.”

“You a lawman, right?”

“I've toted a badge from time to time,” Frank said.

“I think you throwed me in jail one time. After you beat hell out of me. Matter of fact, I'm shore it was you. I always said if I ever seen you again, I'll kill you. Right now is as good a time as any, I reckon.”

“I reckon so,” Frank replied.

“You got a name?” the stranger asked.

“Everybody has a name,” Frank said.

“You 'bout as smart-mouthed as your old fart friend, mister. I'm just tryin' to find out somethin' to put on your tombstone.”

“Don't worry about my tombstone,” Frank replied with a very tight smile. “You'd best be worrying about your own grave marker.” Frank had already picked out the first two of the riders he was going to put lead in. And out of the corner of his eye he had seen the cook lift a sawed-off shotgun and get ready to let it roar. The waitress was obviously Western born and reared. She was ready to hit the floor behind the counter. She didn't appear to be overly frightened, just ready to kiss the floor.

“Huh?” the rider questioned. “They's five of us and only the two of you. And I don't figure that old coot is even gonna be able to clear leather. And you're flappin' your gums about us gettin' planted? Mister, you're addled in the head.”

“No,” Frank countered. “I'm just real sure of myself, that's all.”

“Duke,” the fifth member of the group said. “I've seen that hombre before. I think he's a bad one.”

“Do tell, Bert? Well, he don't scare me none. I think he's all mouth and nothin' else. I want an apology from both of them.”

“How about me?” the cook asked from the kitchen. “Do you want me to apologize too?”

A couple of the hard cases cut their eyes. All they could see through the narrow space between the counter and the kitchen were the twin barrels of the old Greener.

“Damn!” one muttered. “All of a sudden, I ain't likin' this a-tall.”

“That cannon do change things some,” his partner acknowledged.

“I want to know your name, mister,” the mouthy one demanded of Frank. “I got a right to know who I'm facin'.”

“Frank Morgan.”

All the puff and bluster seemed to vanish from the five hard cases. Their shoulders slumped noticeably. Several of them cussed softly, their eyes wide.

“I'm out of this,” one said. “I'm a-sittin' down and puttin' my hands on the table. You watch me, Morgan. I'm through.”

“All right,” Frank said. “Do it.”

The man sat down and placed both hands on the tabletop.

“Me too,” another said. “This was all just a misunderstandin', that's all. It ain't no killin' thing.” He sat down.

“Then there were three,” Frank said. “That makes the odds get all evened up, don't you think, boys.”

“I ain't a-feared of you, Morgan,” the mouthy one said. But his words seemed to lack much conviction. “I still think you're the one that whupped me and tossed me in jail. And I swore to kill you for doin' it.”

“How about you other boys?” Frank asked. “You still in this game?”

“I'm foldin',” one of the others said. “Sittin' down. You hear me, Morgan?”

“Then sit.”

He sat, relief clearly showing on his face.

“Okay, Sanders,” the mouth said. “It's me and you. You still game for the play?”

“I'm game. I'll take the cook.”

The cook laughed at that and said, “I doubt it, stranger.” He eared back the hammers on the Greener, the sound enormously loud in the suddenly very quiet cafe.

“Make your play,” Frank said.

“Now!”
the mouth shouted, and grabbed for his pistol.

Frank shot the mouth twice just as the man's hand touched the butt of his pistol. He shifted the muzzle of his Colt just as the cook's shotgun roared. The mouth had just hit the floor when Sanders's head blew apart, the full loads of both barrels catching him on the side of the head and very nearly decapitating him ... What it did do was make a big mess on the wall.

The waitress slowly picked herself up from the floor and was peeking over the edge of the counter. She grimaced at the sight, shook her head, and said, “I better get the mop bucket and some rags.”

“I didn't even get to trigger off a shot,” Bob complained. “I must really be gettin' slow. Damnit to hell anyways.”

“But you stood tough beside me,” Frank said. “That counts for a hell of a lot, Bob.”

“It do, don't it?” Bob said, his eyes shining bright.

“For a fact, partner.”

Bob stood a bit taller at the word “partner.”

Frank shifted the muzzle of his Colt toward the three men sitting quietly at the table. “You boys have some explaining to do. Get to it.”

“What do you mean?” one asked.

“Who are you and what are you doing in this town?”

“Can't you toss a blanket over Sanders yonder?” another said, glancing toward the hard case with most of his head missing. “That's a disgustin', awful sight to look at.”

Half a dozen locals had crowded into the cafe, including the undertaker. “I'll get a sheet,” the undertaker said.

The waitress began busying herself mopping up the blood, wiping off the wall, and trying to keep from puking. She finally said, “Excuse me,” and ran out the front door.

“You can put up that hogleg,” the third hard case said to Frank. “We ain't gonna throw no lead.”

“Talk to me,” Frank replied. “Answer my questions.”

“We was 'posed to meet some ol' boys here in town. Got a wire in a town where we was stayin' west of here.”

“What ol' boys?” Frank asked.

“Max Parsons and Red Henson. They said they had some work for us.”

“What sort of work?”

“They didn't say and we didn't ask.”

“What kind of work do you boys do?”

“Near'bouts anything that pays.”

“Such as robbing and killing?”

“Oh, no, sir, Mr. Morgan,” another of the hard cases blurted out. “We ain't prone to do nothin' like that.”

“Oh, I'm sure that's true,” Frank said sarcastically. “Just like Parsons and Henson are model citizens, right?”

The three men fell silent.

The undertaker returned with a sheet and tossed it over the man with part of a head. “You boys got money to pay for the funerals?”

“We got some hard money, yeah. And some greenbacks. We don't want nothin' fancy for 'em. No wailers and moaners. Just a box and a hole.”

“That's what you'll get. Some of you boys help tote these bodies out of here and over to my place, will you?”

The bodies of the dead men were carried out and the waitress returned, a little pale-looking, and resumed her cleaning up.

“I think you fellows are holding back on me,” Frank said. “I think you know a lot more than you're telling. Maybe a few days in jail will loosen your tongues.”

A local stepped forward. “Mr. Morgan, I was appointed temporary city marshal while you was gone. You want me to lock them up?”

“Yes. I'll come over to the jail and talk to them later.” Frank waggled the muzzle of his Colt. “Get up and shuck those gunbelts, boys. Then move out.”

“You're makin' a mistake,” one of the gunhands said. “We ain't done nothin'. We don't know nothin'.”

“Maybe time will jog your memories,” Frank said. “Move!”

Frank followed the men out onto the boardwalk, and stood while the marshal marched the trio over to the jail. Then he walked back into the cafe, got a sack of biscuits and a few slices of fried bacon for Dog, and went back to the livery and watched while Dog ate. When he was finished, Dog curled up on the floor beside the bed and went to sleep.

Frank left the door to the small living quarters open, so Dog could come and go out of the room, then walked back up the boardwalk toward the cafe. On the way, he met Bob.

“I spoke with Eaton over at the general store and with Slattery at the apothecary,” Bob said. “They think that them damn Olsen boys will surely come back here with some hoodlums and try to pull something. They'll stand ready.”

“Good. How about some of the other locals?”

“I told the cook over to the cafe and he's with us all the way. He said he'd talk to his brother and tell him about it.”

“All right. Start talking it up to people you know can use a gun and will stand. I don't think we've got a lot of time to waste.”

“I don't either, Frank.”

“Has anyone seen Fuller Ross?”

Bob laughed at the memory of the last sighting of the rich Easterner. “Not that I know of. He's probably holed up in Thompson's barn. It's his wife I'd worry about. 'Specially if she gets her hands on another knife.”

Frank smiled and nodded his head. “I'm going to move around some, Bob. Take care and keep your eyes open.”

“Will do.”

Frank walked on for half a block. A local trotted across the street and hailed him. “Mr. Morgan! Marshal Burton wants to see you?”

“Who?” Frank asked, puzzled for a moment. Then it dawned on him who the man was talking about. “Oh. Sure. He in his office?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'll get right over there.”

“Them troublemakers I put in jail want to talk to you, Mr. Morgan,” the newly appointed town marshal said. “Whilst you're doin' that, I'm gonna go get me some breakfast. Close the front door when you're done.”

Frank walked to the short row of cells and stood staring at the three men for a moment. After a moment of silence, he said. “Well, what it is, boys?”

“We want to make a deal with you, Morgan.”

“What kind of deal?”

“We'll tell you what we know, you turn us loose.”

“How do I know you have anything to say I want to hear?”

“We do, and you can believe that.”

“What about?”

“Sonny and his gang.”

“All right. It's a deal.”

“Well, Sonny ain't from the city original.”

“So?”

“He run off there about ten years ago. After he kidnapped a miner and his wife in California. He killed 'em both after he got the ransom money.”

“Nice fellow, isn't he?”

“Matter of fact, he ain't. I don't trust him a-tall.”

“That's why we agree to level with you, Morgan,” the second man said. “We want to get gone from here 'fore Sonny and his gang hit the town.”

“Yeah,” the third man said. “We're afeared he'll find us in jail and think we talked and kill us all.”

“How do I know you won't join up with Sonny as soon as I turn you loose?”

“You don't. But we'll give you our word we won't. ”

“Your word?”

“It ain't worth much, is it?”

“Not a whole hell of a lot.”

“It's all we got, Morgan. We got eatin' money, and that's all.”

“Where is Sonny and his gang now?”

“Out yonder somewheres.” The outlaw waved a hand.

“When's he going to hit the town?”

“Today. This afternoon, I think. We was 'posed to get into place and wait for them to strike. Then we was to hit the bank whilst the gang shot up the town and grabbed up them rich women again.”

“And any other women they could . . . for pleasuring, you know,” another outlaw added.

“And then kill them when they were done?”

“Yeah. I wasn't too keen on that part. Killin' women ain't somethin' I ever done. I've kilt men for money, but never no woman nor child.”

“How big is his gang?”

“That we don't know. That's the God's truth, Morgan. Don't none of us know that. But I 'spect they's forty of 'em at least. Maybe more.”

Frank nodded his head. “All right. It's a deal. But you get the hell out of town and you keep riding. If I see you back in this town, I'll kill you. Understood?”

“We understand. And you don't have to worry about seein' us again. We're gone, Morgan. Fast as we can get to our horses, we'll shake the dust of this town.”

Frank found the keys and unlocked the cells. “Git!”

The three outlaws got.

Frank found Bob and told him what the outlaws had said.

“You believe what them yahoos told you?” the liveryman asked.

“Yes, I do. As far as the attack on the town goes. As for their not taking part in it, no. I think they're probably riding hard for Sonny's location right now. We'll see them again. And when I see them, I'll kill them. I warned them.”

Bob looked for a moment into Frank's very cold pale eyes. He suppressed a shudder. “So how much time you figure we have?”

“Couple of hours, maybe less, maybe more.”

“You damn calm about it, Frank.”

“No point in getting into a panic. That won't help solve the problem. Pass the word to the townspeople, Bob. Let's get ready for a fight. But do it quietly. Women and kids and the elderly in the safest location you can find.”

“That would be the church, I reckon. It's mostly stone. I'll have the folks put food and water in there.”

“All right, sounds good. Let's go. We don't have a lot of time to get ready for one hell of a fight. I'll warn the Easterners and then meet you back at the livery. That'll be where we make our stand.”

“Good location. We can control most of one end of town.”

“Let's get moving.”

Frank found the Easterners and warned them what was coming.

“Damn that Sonny!” Vanderhoot said. “He came highly recommended.”

“The people who recommended him might well be a part of the kidnapping, Horace. I'd look into that when you get back to the city.”

“I'll do that, Frank. Now then, we can all shoot, and I think you know by now we'll stand and fight. Where do you want us?”

“Right here in the wagons, I reckon, Horace. Put the women in the center and form a human circle around them.”

“The way the settlers used to fight the Indians?”

Frank smiled. “Pretty much, Horace.”

“Consider it done. We'll hold our own.”

“I know you will. Good luck.”

Phil stopped Frank as he walked back toward the livery. “The telegrapher just told me the wires are down, Frank. Looks like the attack on the town is real.”

“I never doubted it. You spreading the word?”

“Yes. I've told people to gather up all the ammunition they can lay their hands on and get ready for a fight.”

“There might be fires, Phil. Tell the people to fill water barrels and have buckets handy. And don't panic. That's what the outlaws are counting on.”

“Will do, Frank.”

Frank walked the town and nodded his head in approval at what he saw. The citizens were preparing for a fight and going about it without panic. Those stores that had opened early were being closed up, and the people were arming themselves. Animals were being taken off the street and stabled. In small groups, the old, the young, and many of the women were moving toward the church, most carrying packets of food.

Frank walked to the livery and filled all the loops in a cartridge belt. He tucked a spare six-gun behind his belt and picked up his rifle.

“You stay in this room,” he told Dog. “You hear me?”

Dog wagged his tail.

“I'll take that as yes.” Frank stepped out to the front and waited. There was nothing else he could do.