He’s a good badman, sheriff.” “Where is he?” She drew on her cigarette. “This guy really a friend of yours, Mary Ann?” “Yes, he is.
He will be a friend of yours, too, if you level with him.” She waited, dusted ash from her cigarette, and said, “The Rigger was nothing to me but he was to a girlfriend of mine. They saw each other reg’lar.
Then one day he told her to take care of herself, he’d be out of circulation for a while, but when he came back he’d be loaded. “We hear that sort of talk all the time, but not from Molina. He never had to brag.
“He said he was tying up with an outfit that would make it big, and then he went away. One of the girls I ran into said she saw him eating in a restaurant in Pioche with some tall, thin galoot. his She paused. “I hope this isn’t trouble for him. He was an all right guy. Didn’t have an enemy in the world unless it was Kerb Perrin.” “I hope he kills him,” Mary Ann said.
“Perrin beat up one of my girls once, when I was working in Goldfield. He beat her up and he liked doing it.” She paused. “Come to think of it, I haven’t heard anything of him for a long time, either.” Borden Chantry walked back to the office, mulling it over in his mind. He might have something.
Kim Baca, his own deputy, had been a skilled horse thief at one time, and he knew everybody on what some called the owl-hoot trail.
He had never heard it called that himself.
An hour later he knew much more. Kim Baca knew both Molina and Perrin, liked Molina, didn’t like Perrin. Both had dropped from sight.
So had Colley, the Deadwood outlaw. When Bata thought about it, there were a dozen or more he could name who simply hadn’t been around. Chantry was having his supper and watching the train when he remembered the big man who had left the horses with him. He should have asked Mary Ann about him. Thinking about it, he remembered detecting a change in her face when he spoke of the man stopping over in town a few years back. She had sort of tightened her kimono, and he knew Mary Ann, somewhat. It was a gesture she made when she had an idea or made a decision. What did she know?
He wished Sackett was here. And it took too long for a letter- What was he thinking of? The telegraph) Why couldn’t he get used to the idea of the telegraph? Ever since they put the railroad in it had been here, available. He walked through the twilight to the station and wrote out his message.
Rigger Molina-Kerb comPerrin-Coney. Big man, middleaged or older. Six three, two forty. Strong face, big hands. Deep scar below right earlobe.
Sitting beside the fire that night Borden Chantry drew a long breath and waited, and then he spoke quietly. “Bess? If you’re set on it, I mean if you want it that much, we could try it back east.” She stopped sewing and lowered her hands to her lap.
“I haven’t wanted it because this is my world, but for you-for you I’d do it.” He hesitated again. “One reason I haven’t wanted to go is that I don’t want you to see me a failure.
“I’ve been enough of one so far.” He waved a hand around. “They like me here. I was a good marshal, I guess, so they elected me sheriff: I didn’t make it ranching because of the weather.
Maybe I wouldn’t have made it, anyway. I don’t know what I’d do back east where nobody knows me and where I’ve no skills they can use.
“The thing is, I want you to be happy, and you’ve thought about little else these past few years. When my term’s up, we’ll go.” “Borden, I-I don’t know what to say. I do want to go back. You can’t realize how much I’ve hated all this. The shooting, the killing-was “That could happen anywhere.” He brought his knee up and pulled off a boot. “This thing I’m into, the thing I’m helping Sackett with. We’ve got to finish that first.” He pulled off the other boot and got up.
“I’m going to bed, Bess. I’m a little tired. You an’ Tom make your plans. I’ll go with you.” He carried his boots into the bedroom and put them down. Then he took off his gunbelt and hung it on the back of the chair that stood beside his sleeping place. Taking off his vest he sat down. He was being a damned fool. What could he do back east?
Bess wanted to live in town. She was remembering how it had been for her father, who had kept a store or something. He couldn’t keep a store, and he had too little education to compete. He would be There was a rap at the door. He stood up, reaching for his gunbelt. He listened, heard Bess replying to something, then the door closed. She came into the room with a sheet of paper in her hand. “It was the telegrapher. He was going home but he brought this over, thinking it might be important.” It was from Tyrel Sackett, and it was just two words: Ben Curry.
He knew the name.
Borden Chantry was at his battered office desk when Kim Baca came in. Chantry glanced up at his young deputy. Baca had been one of the most skillful horse thieves in the country before he became Chantry’s deputy, and he knew the men who rode the outlaw trail and their ways.
“Kim? What do you know about Ben Curry?” “Leave him alone,” Chantry shuffled some papers on his desk. “I may have some horses of his. If I am not mistaken he left some at the ranch a while back.” “If he did he will pick them up in his own good time. Leave him alone, Chief. He’s trouble, big trouble.” “When he picks those horses up he will be on the run. We want him, Baca.” Kim ran his fingers through his dark hair. “If the horses are here they are here for a purpose. Ben Curry doesn’t make many mistakes, and he doesn’t make any false moves.” “I think he wants our bank,” Chantry commented mildly. “He won’t do it himself, and my suggestion is stay out of the way and let him have it. You aren’t gettin’ paid to get killed.” “I’m paid to do a job, Kim. So are you.” “Yeah, I know.” Bata paused. “I’m told you could pick up an easy thousand dollars by bein’ out of town for a few days. You’re sheriff, too. You could be investigatin’ that counterfeit money that’s been showin’ up, ., “Kim, you can tell whoever passed that word along that I’m not for sale. An officer who turns crooked is worse than any thief. A thief is out to steal and is at least honest in his intentions. A police officer takes an oath to support the law.” Chantry pushed back from his desk. “If I was a judge and a crooked officer came up, before me, I’d give him the stiffest sentence the law permitted. his Kim shrugged. “I figured you’d think thataway but I was told to pass the word along.” “Let them know that I’ll be here,” Chantry said, “and I’ll be ready.” “It won’t be Ben Curry,” Kim said. “More than likely it will be Molina or Perrin or somebody new. There’s a word out that Ben’s got a new man, specially trained for the work.” “Do you have friends in that outfit?” Baca hesitated, then shrugged. “No, I can’t say I do. I never ran with a gang, you know. Worked alone. I know some of those boys, and there’s good men among “em or they wouldn’t have stayed together so long.
The word is that the old man is lettin” go, and the boys are restless.” “Thanks, and if you hear anything, let me know.” Baca shook his head. “Since I pinned on this badge I don’t hear as much. However,” he added, “I could put it in my pocket and ride over to Denver. Down along Larimer Street I might hear something.” “Do that. Here.” Chantry held out a couple of gold coins. “I’m not carrying very much but use that. Let me know what you hear.” He paused. “Kim, Tyrel Sackett is workin’ with me on this. I think there’s going to be a lot goin’ on this spring. Something can happen wherever there’s a gold shipment, a payroll, or a bank that looks easy. “They’ve been quiet all winter, so I think they’ll be lookin’ for a big one.” Kim Baca walked outside. Well, now! A ride to Denver, all expenses paid and some money to spend!