the Iron Marshall (1979) (22 page)

The whole gang was riding now and they had a good start. Shanaghy had taken time looking for wagon tracks, and he had lost time in his fight with Moorhouse, but from the information he might save time. Never one to arrive at decisions too quickly, he thought the situation over carefully. "Mr. Moorhouse? What's off to the south?"

"Ain't nothing. Not for miles 'n miles. Nothing but prairie grass an' antelope. 'Casional buffalo. That's why I figgered east. West there's nothing, either, 'cept maybe that other woman's place, an' it don't seem likely she'd take 'em there, her bein' so careful not to be seen, and all." East, then. Shanaghy thought of it carefully. Holstrum was known in Kansas City, at least to a few people. If Shanaghy rode after them, he would have to almost kill his horse in catching up, and they might have fresh horses waiting, which would leave him stranded on the prairie and out of action. He got up. "Sit tight, Mr. Moorhouse. I'll be calling on you."

"I ain't arrested?"

Shanaghy grinned and held out his hand. "You're too good a man to lie in jail.

Besides, you've already been helpful."

"Well ... Like I say, I killed a man or two but I'm no thief. My ma raised me better."

Tom Shanaghy stepped into the saddle. His knuckles were battered and sore and his shirt was torn. He turned his horse and rode back to town. All was quiet when he rode in. He stepped down at the livery stable and saw Greenwood come out of his saloon and lean on the rail. Judge McBane joined him there.

Leaving the horse, Shanaghy walked slowly down the street. Greenwood glanced at his torn shirt. "Looks like you've had some trouble." "I could use a beer."

"What happened?"

"Moorhouse didn't want to talk. We went around and around a bit. Then he talked.

He's not a bad man."

"They got the gold," Greenwood said. "They said it was picked up outside of town by somebody with an order for it. The order was signed by Holstrum and by Carpenter."

"Carpenter? He's dead."

"So he is, but how could the express messenger know that?" Shanaghy accepted the beer and took off his derby and placed it on the bar beside him. Greenwood's news was no more than what he had expected. "Did the engineer come in here?"

"Him? Why should he? That train stopped only a few minutes and then pulled out.

Seemed like they were glad to get away from here." Nobody said anything for a minute or two. Shanaghy tasted the beer. He was very dry. The beer was cold and it tasted good.

"Drako's dead, and so are his boys," McBane said. "You shoot almighty straight, son."

"I had to. I wasn't going to get any second chance." Shanaghy drank from his glass. "But I had some help, and I've had no chance to thank them." "Josh had his own score to settle."

"That's right. Win Drako was about to hang him, one time." Tom straightened up.

"Is Dick Pendleton still in town?"

"Matter of fact, he isn't. Josh told him you were in trouble and he came in to help. He rode back to the ranch, in something of a hurry, I guess." "And Josh? I could use him." He finished his beer. "Thanks, Greenie. I needed that."

"Well, you tried." Greenwood rested his hands on the bar. "Have another beer if you like. Might as well enjoy it. I'm cleaned out." "I don't think so," Shanaghy said quietly. "I don't think so at all."

Startled, Greenwood stared at him.

Shanaghy was smiling. "I may be guessing all wrong, but I don't think I am. If I am, you may have lost all you say, but if I'm right-" "If you're right ... then what?"

"We'll get it all back." Shanaghy hitched his gunbelt into an easier position on his hips. "Is Holstrum around?"

"He closed up when the shooting started. Holstrum never did like gunfire. He'll be around when things look quiet again. Believe me, this isn't the first time Holstrum closed up. At the first sign of trouble he hunts cover." Tom Shanaghy was thinking about Jan. Dick had ridden out of town in a hurry ...

Why? He had not seen Jan since he left her with Coonskin.

He turned to Judge McBane. "Do you know a man named Coonskin Adams?"

McBane smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Don't tell me you've run into him!"

"Met him."

"Didn't know ol' Coonskin was still around. He's a wolf-hunter. Used to trap the Rockies for fur, then worked for a couple of cow outfits cleaning up the predators."

"Where's he live?"

McBane chuckled. "Now that's a question! To tell you the truth, I doubt if anybody has ever asked that question. Coonskin is one of those people you see around. He comes and he goes. He's here one day, gone the next. He's not a man who talks of himself even when he is around."

"Somebody killed his burro," Shanaghy said.

McBane's expression changed. "God help them then."

"I need to talk to him."

"Go where you last saw him and build yourself a fire. Send up a smoke. Coonskin is as curious as any wild animal, and my bet is he will come to you. McAuliffe, who is division superintendent, knows him well and he might give you a lead. Send him a wire."

McAuliffe ... Big Mac? Maybe.

"Judge? Do the folks here still think I killed Carpenter?" "I am afraid they do. I'd heard the story before ever I got down to breakfast, told me as the gospel. I must say I never believed it for a moment." The door opened and Josh Lundy came in. His rifle was cradled on his arm. "Heard you was back. They got away?"

"Not yet."

Lundy looked at him carefully. "You got some idea? If I can help, count me in."

"You have helped, but I do need you. I'm going to need some more help."

"I'll come," Greenwood said.

"And I," Judge McBane added. "What have you got in mind?" Briefly, Shanaghy explained how the train had been deliberately backed in front of him to block pursuit, then described his arrival at Holstrum's place, and what he had learned from Moorhouse.

"Judge, I want authority from you to search Holstrum's store and his living quarters. If he is there, then at least part of my conclusions are wrong, but I am betting that he's gone. And then," he added, "I want us all at the depot to take the evening train east."

McBane shook his head. "Shanaghy, I can't permit you to enter a man's private premises on nothing but suspicion."

"Suppose we go knock on his door? If he answers the door I shall go no further with it. If he doesn't, I want to search the area ... if I have to," he added. "I shall do it on my own authority." He smiled. "If I am wrong you can please the town by firing me."

"I can't believe Holstrum is involved," McBane said. "Judge, he is a man with a dream. He's a great, hulking, somewhat nearsighted man, but all his life he has dreamed of young, sophisticated women. Suddenly such a woman is here, and he believes she is going to be his. He believes the money is the key to it."

"Do you mean he planned it all?" asked the judge. Shanaghy shrugged. "I doubt it. He may have started it or somebody may sort of suggested it ... Not right out, maybe. I don't know how it all happened. I don't even know if I am right, but we're going to find out." He turned to the door. "Judge? If you'd like to come? And Josh?" Tom Shanaghy went up the few steps to the store's walk. His footsteps echoed hollowly as he walked along, followed by McBane and Josh. He paused at the store's door. There was a sign: closed until further notice. "Same sign he always uses," Josh commented.

Tom rapped on the door, and the sound echoed hollowly. He waited, listening.

When there was no sound, he rapped again.

"His living quarters are in the back. There's a door around to the side." Again Shanaghy led the way. There was a sinking inside him. Secretly he had been hoping he would find Holstrum within. He wanted to find no man guilty, and even though all pointed to Holstrum, he could be wrong. He hoped he was wrong. He knew how a dream could die, and how futile had been the dreams of this man. How much worse it would have been for him had he realized the dream in fact, for what could two such people have said to each other? What could they have done together? Sometimes it was better to keep the dream and forget the realization. Shanaghy rapped on the back door, and there was no response. Josh walked back to the stable. "His horse is gone," he called.

Shanaghy took hold of the doorknob, hesitated. For he shrank at entering the home of another, uninvited. Yet he put his shoulder to the door and the foolish lock burst.

There was a bare, simple room. A rag rug on the floor, plus two chairs and an old leather settee. There were two paintings on the wall, mystic, ethereal things ... obviously originals, like something Poe might have visioned. There were a few books, several of poetry, but only the first few leaves had been cut as if the reader had gone that far and stopped. There were a bottle of whiskey and a glass, the bottle half empty. There was a bottle of Chateau LaFite with one drink gone.

The bed was made, neatly tucked in. The few clothes in the closet were nicely hung. The drawers were half closed as if Holstrum had packed in a hurry. The drawers were empty except for one. There was a dainty handkerchief edged with lace ... perhaps a memento of the girl Holstrum had seen but once and then never again. Shanaghy picked it up, glanced at it and dropped it back into the drawer. He remembered something Holstrum had said, or that had been said about him, about looking in a window and seeing some elegantly clad people dancing. Well, Holstrum was still looking in windows, and he was still standing outside. Shanaghy swore softly, and McBane glanced at him. "He's missed the boat again," Tom said, "I wish he could have made it, just once." "You have compassion, my friend. One does not often find it in an officer."

"More often than you think," Shanaghy said.

"And maybe Holstrum will make it this time."

"No ... " Shanaghy shook his head slowly. "I know the kind of people he is dealing with and he does not. He is thinking of her, and of what they can do in some great city. She is thinking of that money, and what she can do. And George is thinking of the money and wondering how he can wind up with all or most of it. And I think that other man, I think he is the one named McBride. I think he intends to have it all and knows how he will ... And they are all wrong unless I can stop something here."

"Here?"

"We must get our tickets."

Shanaghy closed the door behind him, fastening it as securely as possible. They walked back up the alley together. A few people were in the streets now, and some were talking, pointing out where the men had stood when the gunfight took place.

Shanaghy paused. "You said ... I killed them?"

"Both," Josh said, "dead center. I never did see better shootin'. Wilson Drako was here on the steps. He went down right there, and Dandy, who was clerkin' at the ho-tel ... "

"The clerk was a Drako? The one with the rifle?"

"Didn't you know? Sure, he was a Drako, and he hated your guts." They had paused on the boardwalk in front of Greenwood's saloon. "Judge, Josh ... where we're going isn't far, I'm thinking. But at the end of it there will be shooting, and when there's that much money at stake they won't care who they kill, or how many."

"I cut my teeth on a shootin' iron," the judge said dryly. "I fit Injuns before I was dry behind the ears, and I served four years in the War Between the States. I can stand beside any man when it comes to gunfire." "All right." Shanaghy paused. "Judge, we're going to take that evening train out. Josh, you go down and get the tickets for us. Don't mention where we're going, just buy tickets for Kansas City."

Shanaghy took the money from his pocket. "And above all, don't tell that agent or anybody else who's going along. If you want, tell them it's for the Pendletons."

"Do you think he's in on this?" McBane asked.

"I do."

"And that engineer? And the brakeman?"

"I think they were slipped a few dollars just to act stupid with the train. And, if anybody came along, to block the road.

"They had it all timed nicely. I think they had practiced taking that wagon down, and I believe they had horses waiting. And I think they ran them hard to the Holstrum place and then took off on fresh stock. "By now they are swinging back around to meet the railroad line-" "What if they don't?"

"Then I'll have my work cut out for me. But look at it this way. Some of these people are easterners. The railroad is something they know. They'd have to ride a long, long way to get anywhere a'horseback. They won't have any idea we have this figured out, and they'll think we're running in circles back here. When that train pulls in and they want to board it, we'll be waiting for them. With luck we can do it without shooting ... but don't bank on it." It was a long shot, and he knew it. Shanaghy checked his guns, then reholstered them.

"Judge"-he saw Josh coming back up the street with the tickets-"there's one more thing. Maybe I've read this right and maybe I haven't. Somebody said once, 'Set a crook to catch a crook.' Well, I'm no thief but I've known a'plenty of them back in New York town. I think what we've got here is one of the nastiest triple-crosses I've ever seen."

"We'd better get on down to the station," Greenwood suggested. "Wait ... we'll hear the whistle and we can start then. It's less than a hundred yards.