By now the plotters might have discovered that Patterson was not to make his move. In any event, he must think that way and not blind himself to whatever else might happen.
Suddenly, he sat up. One of the men at the hitching-rail had lifted his head and was peering intently across the street toward a place hidden from Shanaghy’s view.
Shanaghy got up, pulled on his boots and slipped into his coat. After donning his derby, he went quietly down the stairs into the deserted lobby. A faint light glowed over the desk but all else was dark. He moved to the wide window where, standing near the pillar, he had a good view up and down the street. Suddenly he saw the hand of one of the chained men shoot up as if to catch something, then saw him clawing in the dust to get hold of it. Shanaghy wheeled. Moving swiftly, he went down the hall. At the back door he paused, then eased the door open, and slipped out into the darkness. As he did so a figure emerged from between the buildings and moved away from him.
There was no chance for identification, not even a glimpse of more than the shadowy figure. Shanaghy started after him, running as softly as possible on the sandy earth.
Some sound must have reached the figure ahead, for Shanaghy caught a glimpse of a startled white face. Then the figure broke into a run, disappearing around a corner. Shanaghy pulled up at the corner, expecting a trap. Then he heard a pound of hoofs and he rushed from between the buildings to catch the merest suggestion of movement and the sound of retreating hoofbeats. He swore, then spat. The luck of him! Another step or two faster and he might have caught at least a glimpse.
Wearily, he walked back to the hotel and went to bed. He was not especially interested in what had been thrown. He was pretty certain what it had been … a lock pick, he was sure. At this point he didn’t care, for if the three escaped it would be all the less to watch out for when the showdown came. He awakened in the cold light of dawn unrested, worried and sure that things were completely out of control.
All hell was about to break loose, and he did not know where or from whom or just how.
After he had eaten breakfast he went from place to place, trying to complete setting up the organization he had told Patterson was already in existence. There was some grumbling, but there was also some eagerness. Things had been quiet in town and some of the townsfolk were ready for action, any kind of action.
Work had piled up at the blacksmith shop. After taking off his coat and shirt he put on a leather apron and went to work. He always thought better when his hands were busy, anyway. Physical labor seemed to open all the channels of his mind. He completed an order for andirons, made two sets of hinges and put shoes on two horses. It was when he was paring down a hoof for shoeing that the thought came to him. He finished the job, tied the horse at the hitching-rail outside the shop, and stood for a moment, looking up the street. There were a few places in town from which almost everything could be seen. One of them was Greenwood’s.
He hung up his apron, put on his coat and hat and started up the street.
FOURTEEN
He paused in front of Holstrum’s store, then walked over to where the would-be gunmen were shackled to the hitching-rail. He checked their shackles, then commented, “You boys should get wise to yourselves. If they ever brought off this job, how much would you get? The fewer there are around to split with, the bigger the shares for the others.”
He pushed his derby back on his head. “Was I running this job I’d see you boys got turned loose just as the shooting starts. You’d help to create a diversion, and you’d get killed in the process.”
Shanaghy knew too much about crooks not to know there was always mutual doubt and suspicion. “How well do you know the people you’re working with?” he asked mildly. “I’d say you boys better be looking at your hole card.” “I don’t know what he’s talkin’ about, do you, Turkey?” said one. The thin, scrawny man shrugged. “Surely don’t. We just come into town for a peaceful drink.”
Shanaghy chuckled. “This here’s a right deceiving town,” he said. “For instance, I’d bet you boys don’t know I’ve got men staked out all over town? And that when the shooting starts they’ll be using shotguns and buffalo guns at close range?” He waved a hand around. “Boys, there ain’t an inch of this street that isn’t covered at less’n fifty yards, and mostly twenty yards, by shotguns and rifles. You boys are going to be right in the middle of a bloodbath.”
Turkey shifted irritably. “What you gettin’ at?” “Only this … If you boys should be lucky enough to get loose or get turned loose before the shootin’ starts, I’d suggest you just leave out of here as fast as you can go.”
“You make it sound like you got everything all figured out … whatever it is.”
Shanaghy nodded. “That’s just it. I have. And do you know why I’m tellin’ you? Because you boys are just out to make a fast dollar. I don’t figure you’re so bad. And we don’t want a lot of dead bodies when this is over … It’s bad for business. What we’ll do, of course, is scoop out a big ditch and just dump the lot of you in it, smooth her over and forget it.” Holstrum was coming down the street to open his store. Shanaghy nodded to him, “Mornin’, Mr. Holstrum. Looks like a nice day. I was just fixin’ to feed these boys.”
Holstrum peered at them over his spectacles. “They look to be a rough lot,” he said. “If you need any help—“ “They aren’t that bad, Mr. Holstrum. Just some poor, misguided lads who won’t be with us very long. I’ll feed them well, Mr. Holstrum. They should at least have the pleasure of a last meal. It’s a poor lot they are, but too young to pass on.”
“You are going to hang them?” Holstrum asked.
“Oh, no!” Shanaghy looked terribly sad. “That won’t be necessary. But when someone isn’t needed any more … You know how that is, Mr. Holstrum? When people have outworn their usefulness … ?”
Holstrum peered at him over the glasses again. “Ah, Mr. Shanaghy! You have a good heart. Well, feed them well, then. If anything is said of the bill when it comes to the council, I will justify it.”
“You, Turkey,” Shanaghy said. “You first.”
The stocky, dark-bearded one sat up. “You ain’t feedin’ us together?”
Shanaghy smiled. “That would be risky, wouldn’t it? Ah, no, lads. One at a time. You know the old saying … ‘two’s company’? Just two of us alone, you know, it makes for better conversation.”
“I ain’t hungry,” Turkey said.
“Too bad, because you’re coming along anyway.”
Shanaghy unshackled him, then put both cuffs on his wrists, “Come along, Turkey.
You … “ -he looked back over his shoulder at the other- “just rest easy.
Turkey an’ me will have a nice talk. Then I’ll come back for you.” When they were seated and had ordered, Shanaghy filled both their cups. “Feel sorry for you boys,” he said. “After all, you’re just trying for that fast dollar. You’d no way of knowing what you were gettin’ into.” Turkey had a narrow face with snaky black eyes. He looked around, irritably.
“Why don’t you just shut up?”
Shanaghy smiled. “Ah, lad, don’t be so short with a man who wishes you no ill.
But that’s the way of it. A man never knows who he can trust. “It’s a trap, you know,” he said conversationally. “How do you suppose I know so much? I was tipped off,” he said quietly, “by somebody who has got a scheme working within a scheme. This party has got it figured so they’ll wind up with all the money. Actually.” he commented, “it’s a three-way cross. Some of those who think they are double-crossing you are actually being crossed themselves.” Shanaghy was just talking. He was trying to undermine Turkey’s confidence, to weaken his resolution, to perhaps extract some clue. But as he talked he began to wonder if he hadn’t stumbled upon the truth. These men, probably like some others, were pawns in the game. But who were the principles? And how did they hope to bring it off? Turkey ate sullenly. All of a sudden he slammed down his fork and swore. “Take me back, damn it!”
Shanaghy got to his feet. “Anybody can get himself into a hole,” he commented.