Greenwood glanced at Shanaghy. “You had anything to eat?”
“No … and I’m hungry.”
“Don’t have much here, but I can give you a bowl of chili and some crackers.” He dished it up. “Lived in Tucson a good many years back. All you could get in a restaurant there in those days was chili, chili and beans or beef. You’d think I’d be sick of it, but I’m not.”
Greenwood put the bowl of steaming chili and another bowl filled with oyster crackers on the bar. “You want to know what I think? I don’t believe you murdered Carp. I do know he liked you, and I think you did him … well as you knew him.”
“We talked a little. I did like him.”
Greenwood lit a cigar. “You’ve got enemies, and if I feed you they’ll be my enemies.”
“I’ll stay away.”
“You needn’t.” Greenwood puffed thoughtfully at the cigar. “In this case your enemies have to be my enemies. I mean those who aren’t just misguided but real enemies.”
Greenwood took Shanaghy’s beer from the bar and put a head on it. “That’s partly my money coming in on the train.”
“How much of it is yours?”
“The big part. I’ve got a hundred and fifty thousand coming in. Other businessmen around town have maybe another fifty. Carp has some and so does Holstrum.”
“I don’t comprehend. Why is so much of it yours?”
“We wanted the cattle business and I had access to more cash than the others.
Good credit. So I agreed to carry the weight of it.” Shanaghy looked at Greenwood thoughtfully, then went on with his eating. He was hungry and the chili tasted good … very good. Yet there was a feeling that he was missing something, and a feeling of impending doom. “Greenwood,” Shanaghy said suddenly, “if I were you I’d close up shop and keep out of sight. I think your number is up, too.”
“Mine?”
“You just said most of that money was yours. By coming into the picture I’ve messed up their plans. I don’t think they intended to kill anyone … Maybe they didn’t … except for Rig. Then when I came into the picture they had to kill me. Well, they haven’t done it so far but they’ll keep trying. “Now, they’re trying to run me out of town. They’ve taken my room from me. I’ve no place to eat, and they’ve taken my horse. I’d lay a bet I can’t even get a ticket out of town, although maybe they’d be glad to see me go.” “What’s happening, then?”
“It’s somebody right here in town who is mixed up in all this. I tell you, man, they had it all worked out, until Rig Barrett smelled something rotten.” Shanaghy paused, then asked, “Whose idea was it to hire Rig?” “Mine. Judge McBane agreed. So did Carpenter. Holstrum did, then he worried about it, afraid we’d get a worse lawman than we had. He voted against it finally.”
“Carp was for it.”
“He was.”
Shanaghy finished the chili and drank the last of the beer. “You’d better hole up. I can’t promise you where I’ll be, but they shan’t drive me out. I’ll find a horse somewhere-“ “I have several. Take your pick. And there’s all the gear you’ll need, right out back.” Greenwood reached under the bar and pulled out a shotgun. “I have this, and if you need me-“ “You just stay here. I may need a place to come to.” He paused, looking up the empty street. It was too empty … and that worried him. “Greenwood, how well do you know Mrs. Carpenter?” The saloonkeeper looked up the sunlit street where the dust stirred briefly. “Not much.” He spoke reluctantly, as one who did not talk about women, at least about decent women. “She kept pretty much to herself … Didn’t socialize a lot. Folks seemed to like her, but … well, she was standoffish. “Carp was different. He liked folks, enjoyed sitting around talking. He was a serious man, though, and knew what he was about. Sometimes … “ -he hesitated- “sometimes I figure she thought she was a mite too good for all of us, Carp included.”
“And her brother?”
“They were close. Saw a lot of one another, but he wasn’t a mixer, either. He’d come in here, time to time, and buy a bottle.” He scowled. “Come to think of it, here lately he’s been buying more. Sometimes two or three bottles at a time.” “Becoming a drunk?”
“I never saw him drunk. No … I don’t think so.”
“How about other stuff? Groceries?”
Greenwood shrugged. “No … Holstrum would be the only one who would know about that.”
“I was wondering … Maybe he was buying that whiskey for somebody else?
Somebody who didn’t want to show up around town?” Shanaghy got up. Greenwood rinsed out the bowls and his beer mug, then dried his hands on his apron. It was cool and pleasant in the small saloon. Shanaghy looked up the street. Already the buildings looked weather-beaten and old. Sun, wind and blown sand would do that. In the prairie country, towns had a way of aging very fast.
The wind picked up a little dust and carried it along, then dropped it. A horse tied at the hitching-rail stamped his feet and blew through his nostrils. Shanaghy missed the clang of the hammer from the smithy. Carp had been a good man, a solid man. And now he was dead … just when he had been trying to help, too.
Was that the reason? Was it just that he was in the way? Tom Shanaghy stirred restlessly, irritably. He was out of his depth. What was going on here, anyway? His thoughts strayed to New York and Morrissey. At least he knew there who his enemies were. Yet now it all seemed so far, far away. He had wanted no trouble when he came here. He wanted only to board the train and leave. He had even bought his ticket … and he could still do that, he could do it tomorrow- if somebody would sell him one … Suddenly his eye caught a flicker of movement up the street. There was a man standing in the deepest shade of the awning in front of the express office. The man had a rifle.
Shanaghy watched for a minute or two, his eyes slowly sweeping the scene before him, his mind racing. They were ready for him. They were all set to kill him, and now they had undoubtedly enlisted some of the good men of the town as well, convincing them that he had killed Carpenter.
Walking into a cold deck like that was not to his liking. He glanced around at Greenwood. “Close up and hole up, and don’t let anybody in unless it’s me.” He paused a minute. “Greenwood, I’m beginning to get the pattern. You were to be the patsy all along. I mean, maybe they started out with other ideas but it was your money they wanted. I’m going to take one of your horses and slip out of town. I’m going to ride to Patterson’s outfit for help.” Greenwood shifted the shotgun from one hand to the other, nodding slowly. “All right, Shanaghy, I’ll stand pat. But for God’s sake get back here.” Greenwood put the shotgun on the bar and mopped his brow. “They won’t let you get out of town, Shanaghy. By now they are watching my horses. They might think you’d run but they dasn’t take the chance.”
Tom Shanaghy was of the same notion. He stared up the street, trying to fit all the pieces together. There had to be somebody in town … Who? The idea that kept nagging at him made no sense, yet it could fit … it did fit. In part at least. If he just knew who his enemies were, he would know better how to proceed.
“What about Holstrum?” he asked suddenly.
Greenwood shrugged. “He stands to lose, too. Anyway, I can’t see him figuring this out.”
“Some of those big, slow men are damn smart,” Shanaghy said. “It doesn’t pay to underrate them.” He was looking up the street and thinking. They didn’t have much time.
He swore bitterly. “Hell of it is, there’s some good but mistaken men out there.
I don’t want to kill anybody who doesn’t have it coming.” He looked around. “Greenwood, that girl’s in it, I know, and so’s that George whatever-his-name-is. But who was it turned the town against me? It surely wasn’t one of them. It had to be a local. It had to be somebody folks would listen to.”
“Who, then?”
Shanaghy turned his head and stared at him. “They would listen to you, Greenie.” Greenwood shrugged. “It wasn’t me. Like you’ve said, most of that money will be mine. I stand to lose it all. I stretched my credit, Shanaghy. I’ll be broke if we lose that money … wiped out.”