Wanted! Belle Starr! (11 page)

“
Don’t bother,” Icke
snorted, being unable to raise anything close to the sum quoted.
However, he felt the required ‘edge’ he was going to suggest would
work just as well for himself. Furthermore, the same objection to
hiring the man in front of him applied in an even greater measure
than it did where Forey and Potter were concerned, considering the
amount of money he was trying to retrieve. “I’ll give you fifty
dollars just to show me the shack and do the rest
myself.”

“
Make it a hundred and
you’ve got a deal,” the Oklahoman countered. “Only, afore you start
figuring on doing some hoss-trading to get a lower price, leave us
not forget time’s a-passing and, once they get together again,
you’d not have a hope in hell of taking them out.”

“
A hundred it is!” the
receiver assented sullenly. “Wait here and I’ll go fetch it for
you!”

“
Right there’s where the
O’Toole gals’re hiding out, ‘Mr. Wilson’,” announced the
Indian-dark Oklahoman, pointing to the small wooden shack in the
poorer district of Mulrooney through which he had guided David
Icke. Surrounded by a rickety picket fence, it was a short distance
away from its neighbors. Only a faint glimmer of light, caused by a
slight gap in the drapes drawn across the front window, suggested
it might be occupied. “You mind what I’ve been telling you about
them?”

“
I’ll remember everything
you said,” the receiver promised, but did not mention his intention
to have the Oklahoman hunted down and killed by Stephen Forey and
Lee Potter no matter whether he had been sold genuine or false
information.

Having gone upstairs at the Railroad House
Hotel, ostensibly to collect the payment for the news he had been
given, Icke had been relieved to find the second floor passage was
deserted. This had allowed him to collect the woman’s long, hooded
black cloak from the room in which he had been drugged and robbed
by ‘Darlene-Mae Abernathy,’ or unless his informant was lying for
some reason the confidence trickster, ‘Gold-Brick Annie O’Toole.’
Taking the garment to his accommodation, he had continued his
preparations for retrieving his stolen property. Laying aside his
own cloak and hat, he had extracted the one hundred dollar bill
from the hollow heel of his left Hersome gaiter boot. With the
price of the information acquired, he had armed himself so as to
make use of it.

Despite his frequent comments
regarding the prohibition of private ownership, when addressing
radical-liberal political meetings, the receiver never went
anywhere without carrying at least one firearm on his person.
Concluding the Remington Double Derringer in the carefully
concealed holster slot on the left side of his vest would not be
suitable for his current needs, he had taken the twin barreled, ten
gauge, British-made Greener converted into a whip it gun from where
it was hidden amongst the clothes in one of his trunks. Loading the
short and very deadly weapon, he wrapped it in the cloak brought
from the other room and put half a dozen more buckshot shells in
the right side pocket of his jacket.
^xiii

Rejoining the Oklahoman in the bar, carrying
the cut down shotgun and black cloak, the receiver had been
compelled to change the one hundred dollar bill for notes of
smaller denominations before payment was acceptable and the
guidance commenced. With this done, they had left the hotel. While
making their way through the semi-darkness beyond the better
illuminated area of the town, the Indian-dark man had warned there
was no way he could hope to arrive outside the hiding place
selected by the O’Toole sisters without his presence being
detected, due to certain precautions they had taken. If it was not
for these, the Oklahoman had claimed, the task would be simple.
Knowing her younger sister’s penchant for the ‘pleasures of the
flesh’, Winnie relied upon the precautions sounding a warning and
left the front door unfastened so as to avoid being disturbed when
Annie returned. Asked how he knew so much, he had admitted to
having been on very close terms with the less attractive sister
until discarded by her after a quarrel. Pleased to have received
such an interesting and helpful piece of information, Icke had
concluded that the methods he intended to employ would remove the
need for an unseen and unheard arrival.

“
I’ll give you something
else for your money, being a generous son-of-a-bitch,” the
Oklahoman offered. “Should you catch Winnie on her lonesome,
which’s likely to happen, what I recall she said about the way the
‘Gold-Brick’ carries on when she goes a-courting with some good
looking young jasper, you can likely take ’em one at a time and
come through it alive. Was I you though, for all you’ll be wanting
to put Winnie down without gunplay if you can, I’d have that
sawed-off scattergun ready to use was you able to bust in on her.
Don’t take chances, or it’ll be you and not her’s winds up
dead.”

“
How do you know—?” Icke
began, but was unable to prevent himself from glancing at the
bundle he was carrying.

“
Mister,” the Oklahoman
drawled, having come to a halt on indicating he had brought the
receiver to their destination. “You might get away with toting the
scatter like you’re doing it now back east, but it shows real plain
to anybody’s‘s been raised west of the Big Muddy. Which I don’t
blame you one lil mite for having it. Fact being, I wouldn’t want
to go up against them two good ole gals, not even one at a time,
any other way myself. Well, I reckon I’ve earned my money and it’s
time for me to be on my way.”

“
Aren’t you going to wait
until I’ve made sure they’re there?”

“
Nope!”

“
No?”

“
Mister,” the Oklahoman
drawled, his manner warning he would not change his mind. “I know
they’re there and reckon whatever comes off’s between you and them.
Which being, I’m going about my own doings and leaving you to
your’n!”

While the final part of the
conversation was taking place, never being willing to part with
money unnecessarily, Icke was tempted to fell his guide the moment
their separation was commenced. Then he concluded that such a
course might prove to be most ill-advised. Struck from behind, the
way in which the attack was to be carried out, the hat worn by the
Oklahoman would offer some protection for his head. Unless he was
rendered
hors de combat
by the first blow, the shack was not more than
thirty yards away and the commotion which would almost certainly
ensue might be heard inside. The same would also apply if the
assault was successful. Furthermore, should his intentions be
discovered, the receiver felt sure a painful retribution would be
forthcoming immediately and his intended victim had weapons far
more readily accessible than his own. Having taken the
contingencies into account, therefore, he put the idea from his
thoughts.

Even if Icke had elected to go ahead with
his proposed attack, he would not have had the chance. Clearly
having anticipated something of the kind, or possessing a natural
disinclination to be trusting, the Oklahoman stepped backwards
until well beyond reaching distance as he was making his final
declaration. Then, nodding in farewell, he swung around and strode
rapidly away in the direction from which they had come.

Putting aside thoughts of trying to regain
possession of the money paid for the information, the receiver told
himself that he must have his bodyguard find and kill its donor.
Although he had been seen to be on good terms with the beautiful
blonde at the hotel, nobody else could connect him directly with
the double murder he was hoping to commit. And, if the man had
tricked him, he would want to have him killed as punishment.

While reaching his conclusions, Icke was
unrolling the cloak from around the whip gun. Donning the garment
he found, much to his satisfaction, that it was sufficiently
voluminous to cover him from head to foot and completely hide his
masculine attire. Then, although he was hoping to use it as a club
rather than a firearm against at least Winnie O’Toole, he cocked
both hammers before concealing the weapon by drawing the cloak
around it.

On stepping forward, the receiver discovered
that his informant had not lied where one point was concerned.
Passing through the gate in the rickety picket fence, although
there was no tree anywhere in the immediate vicinity, he found the
ground was coated with dried leaves which made a noticeable
crackling sound as he took a step on to them. The Oklahoman had
claimed that refusing to help gather and spread them was the cause
of the quarrel with the less attractive sister.

Accepting there was no way in which he could
reach the building undetected, Icke walked towards it without
attempting to hide. He was gambling that such a method of approach
would persuade the occupant that whoever was coming had no evil
intentions and did not need to worry about being overheard. As he
reached the front porch without having been challenged, or seeing
anything to suggest the slightest interest was being taken in him,
he decided this must have been the case.

Stepping on to the porch, the receiver was
startled by a creak from the sun-warped plank upon which his
forward foot descended. For a moment, the glint of light at the
window widened just a trifle. Although he glanced in that
direction, it reverted to its original width too quickly for him to
ascertain whether this was by accident or he had been subjected to
observation by an occupant of the building. Deciding against taking
the chance that it was the former contingency, he pulled the hood
further around his face and darted forward. Thrusting his shoulder
against the door, he found that once again the Oklahoman had spoken
the truth. It swung open and, starting to bring the whip it gun
from beneath the cloak, without allowing his features to be
displayed, he crossed the threshold swiftly.

Icke discovered, just an instant too late,
that he made a terrible mistake!

The room into which the receiver had burst
was occupied, but not by the woman he had been assured would be
alone!

Instead, Icke was confronted by an armed man
and, from the corner of his eye, saw a second standing by the
window!

What was more, both were known to the
receiver!

Before Icke could disclose his identity, or
do anything else to clarify the situation, the matter was taken
from his hands in no uncertain fashion.

Having been told that Geoffrey Crayne was
using the shack as a hiding place, but had left wearing a cloak,
Forey and Potter had concluded he was searching for their employer.
Satisfied that ‘Mr. Wilson’ could not be reached inside the
Railroad House Hotel and had no intention of leaving it that night,
they had elected to await the return of the young Bostonian instead
of trying to locate and, perhaps, scare him off. Alerted by the
crackling of the leaves and creak from the porch, Forey had peeked
through the drapes. Seeing a figure dressed as had been described
by their part-Indian informant, he had warned his companion to make
ready.

Under the circumstances, the way selected by
Icke to enter the shack could hardly have been more ill
advised!

Seeing the cloaked and unrecognizable figure
burst through the door, holding a weapon offering such deadly
potential at close quarters, neither of the bodyguards waited to
discover who he might be. Even as the receiver was trying to halt
his impetuous entrance, too amazed at discovering the identity of
the occupants to do anything which might have averted what was
coming, the pair he had hired opened fire with their revolvers as
swiftly as they could operate the single action mechanisms.

Caught in the body by three heavy caliber
bullets, Icke was sent spinning across the room to sprawl lifeless
and face down in a corner. As he went, the whip it gun flew
unheeded from his grasp. On landing, the jolt caused one of its
hammers to snap forward. There was a thunderous double crash, but
the nine buckshot balls erupting through the cut down barrel did
nothing more than puncture a pattern of holes through the
ceiling.

“
Do you reckon it’s him,
Stevie?” Potter inquired, lowering his smoking revolver.

“
Who the hell else could
it be?” Forey answered, starting to walk across the room. “That
god-damned half-breed, Sammy Crane, told us he was hiding out here,
and how he was dressed when he went out. So let’s make sure he’s
cashed in, then get the hell away from here.”

“
Maybe he’s carrying
money,” Potter supplemented, hurrying from the window to ensure he
received his fair share if this proved to be the case. “It won’t do
any harm to look if he is.”

“
Good God in heaven!”
Forey ejaculated, turning the body over so that the features were
revealed. His agitation was aroused less by the discovery of the
victim’s identity than through thoughts of how the man who had
found them the job might regard their error. “What the hell’s he
doing here?”

“
I dunno,” Potter
admitted, also staring at the lifeless features of the employer he
had known only as ‘Mr. Wilson’. “But we’d best light a shuck the
hell from here and wonder about it later.”

Leaving the shack, still holding their
revolvers, the pair saw three men running towards them. Noticing
the badges worn by the newcomers and the way they were armed,
Potter, snarling a profanity, did not wait to be challenged.
Raising his weapon, he fired and, equally perturbed by the sight,
Forey duplicated his action. Neither achieved the success they had
had in the building. Missing their intended marks proved to be a
mistake as bad as that made by their late employer when
inadvertently bursting in on them.