Without turning his head, he spoke to Greenwood. “See what you can do for that man, will you? He’s hurt but he’s not dead.”
He gestured with a gun, shoving the other into his waistband. “Court ain’t in session,” he said, “so I’ll handle it. Fifty dollars or fifty days.” “Hell, who’s got that much money?”
“If you’ve got a friend who has,” Shanaghy said cheerfully, “you’d better get word to him. Start walking now … outside.”
The hitching-rail in front of the smithy was built with posts of good size set deep in the earth, and the rail itself was of oak, notched into the posts and spiked in place. He handcuffed each man to the rail by one wrist. “How long you goin’ to leave us here?”
Shanaghy did not smile. “Fifty days, unless you can come up with the fine.”
“Fifty days? You’re crazy! What if it rains?”
“Well,” Shanaghy said, “the overhang will protect you if the rain comes from thataway. Otherwise, I’d say you’re liable to get wet. The same thing goes for the sun.”
Shanaghy pushed his derby back on his head. “You boys came in here asking for it. Maybe the man who sent you will put up your fines.” He grinned suddenly. “But I’ve a notion he’ll just let you rot. You’re no good to him any more.”
“When I get loose-!”
Shanaghy shook his head reprovingly. “That’s the feelin’ that got you into trouble. My advice is to just pull your freight and get out of here.” “Where’d a man who wears a derby learn to use a gun like that?”
Shanaghy smiled. “I had a good teacher, and a lot of time to practice.” He went back to Greenwood’s. The place was empty and Greenwood was mopping the floor. “How is he?”
Greenwood shrugged. “If he’s lucky, he’ll live. If your bullet had been an inch or two lower, he’d never have made it to the doctor.” Greenwood took his mop and bucket to the back room and returned, drying his hands. “You don’t waste around much, do you?”
“I do not. At such a time a man can only do what he must.” Shanaghy drank part of a beer and then remembered the horses. Leaving his beer on the bar, he went out quickly and hurried down the street. He rounded the corner into the alley beside Holstrum’s store and pulled up. The horses were gone …
TWELVE
Shanaghy stood for an instant, realizing that the horses might have belonged to someone other than the men in the saloon. But if such was the case, who did they belong to?
He glanced down at the tracks. One resembled a track seen at the seep where the unknown riders had met.
Turning, he walked back up the street, but as he went, he was thinking. If those horses had belonged to the men in the saloon, they were still in town … Nobody had ridden out, for in this wide-open country, except at night, it was impossible to enter or leave town without being seen. He returned to Greenwood’s. “Know any of those men?” he asked the saloonkeeper. Greenwood shrugged. “They’re strangers, Tom. The minute they walked in I had them pegged for trouble. A man in my business has to know.” “Mine, too.”
“You acted like you knew what to do!”
Shanaghy shrugged. “I broke up fights and bounced tough guys out of Bowery saloons when I was sixteen. I’ve been through that a couple of hundred times.” “With guns?”
“Sometimes. More than likely slungshots, billies or chivs … knives, I mean.
You take the mean one first … Then the others lose their stomach for it. “That one,” he added, “he was going to start trouble, and the others were going to shoot me.”
“Rig Barrett couldn’t have done it better.”
Shanaghy looked at Greenwood. “No? Well, maybe. He’d more than likely have it all figured out now and know who the front man was.” “You believe there is one?”
“Look … Some of these boys came in from out of town. This job was planned out of town. Rig knew that. So how did they know about it? Either somebody tipped them off or they had a tip from the place that will supply the money.” “I wish I could have seen those horses,” Greenwood mused.
“Seen ‘em? Why?”
“I’d know if they were from around here. Hell, Tom, every western man knows horses and he doesn’t forget them.”
Suddenly, Shanaghy swore. “Damn! That must’ve been what Carpenter meant!”
“Meant? What was that?”
“Awhile back he made some comment to the effect that somebody didn’t realize that horses could be remembered, or something like that. I think he recognized the horse that girl was riding.”
“You surely don’t think she’s involved? That girl’s a lady.” Shanaghy shrugged. “Anybody can want money, and I’ve seen some pretty cold-blooded ladies. I’ve seen them at cockfights and dogfights, real bluestockings, and enjoying every minute of it.” He walked out again on the street. Right now he was wishing he had a friend, any kind of a friend. He was wishing he could talk to McCarthy or Old Smoke Morrissey, or that old-timer who taught him to use a six-shooter. He needed somebody he could talk to … and he had no idea whether Greenwood could be trusted or not.
He thought of Holstrum, but the storekeeper was a quiet, phlegmatic sort not likely to be of any help.
Carpenter … ? He turned toward the smithy, suddenly aware that he had heard no ringing of the hammer for some time.
He walked more swiftly as he neared the smithy, and suddenly saw a woman standing in the entrance, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked his way. “Are you Tom?” she said as he walked up. “I’m Mrs. Carpenter.”
“ I was looking for your husband.”
“So was I. I brought his lunch and he wasn’t here. The forge is almost cold. I can’t imagine-“ “In this town? Where could a man go?”
“He might be at Greenwood’s. He said something to me this morning about having a talk with him.”
She paused. “Marshal? Would you go there for me? A lady can’t go into such places.”
“He’s not at Greenwood’s. I’ve just come from there.” “I’m frightened, Marshal. It isn’t like him. He’s … he’s a very meticulous man … about everything. If he had been going anywhere he would have told me.” “Ma’am? Did he talk any about horses? I mean, did he say anything about a horse he’d recognized lately?”
“No … not that I can recall. He’s been preoccupied, and that’s unlike him. I think he has been worried.”
“So have we all, ma’am. So have we all.”
Shanaghy paused, then continued: “Ma’am?” She was a pleasant-looking, attractive woman. Had someone asked her what she was, she would have said, “housewife,” and been proud of it. “Ma’am? I can use your help.
“You know the people in this town. I am still a stranger. Anyway, sometimes women are more perceptive about people than men are. Something’s going on here. I think somebody is planning to steal the money that’s being brought into town to pay for cattle and to pay off the drivers. Mostly it will be outside people, but I think somebody right here in town is in on it, and may have started the whole thing.
“There aren’t many secrets in a town of this size, and I want you to think about it. Meanwhile, I’ll have a look for your husband. If he comes back, let Greenwood know.”
“Do you trust him? He’s a saloonkeeper.”
“I trust no one. Not even you. But I think he’s an honest man.” “Enough money, that much money, would tempt many an honest man. My husband worked very hard this past year, and he has made just over seven hundred dollars. That’s pretty good. I doubt if either Mr. Greenwood or Mr. Holstrum has done any better, so think of what two hundred and fifty thousand dollars represents.”
“Ma’am, I’ve known crooks most of my life, but the honest men I knew … well, I don’t think some of them would sell out at any price. I don’t believe your husband would.”
She started to turn away, then hesitated. “Marshal? Who is that young woman who is staying at the hotel? The very attractive one we see riding about?” “She says she’s looking at land, that she and her father are prospective buyers.” He paused. “But she isn’t staying at the hotel.” “Not at the hotel? Then where-?”
“I’ve no idea, ma’am. Yet you’ve seen her. She’s always neat, never dusty, her clothes always fresh and clean. She’s not camping out, ma’am.” Holstrum was behind the counter of his store. He peered at Shanaghy over his glasses and smiled. “Ah? You come to my little store, Marshal? What can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for Carpenter.”