The Sunshine Killers (4 page)

Inside they looked around as he stood in the doorway. Schmidt was behind the bar, the others were where they'd been, where they never seemed to move from. Carefully Saulter shut the door behind him. He walked slowly to the bar and removed his coat. All the while he kept his eyes fixed on Tomlain.

The gunman said, watching him, “You don't take your coat off when you're leaving, rabbit hunter. Or ain't you smart enough to know that?”

Saulter ignored him, taking the time to put his coat carefully on the bar. He moved down from it just enough so that Schmidt would not be directly behind him. Then he faced the men, speaking pointedly to Tomlain.

“I'm about to get tired of all this bullshit. I don't know what's going on around here and I don't care. But I'm staying a few days and it's going to get goddam dangerous for the next man that saddles my horse for me.”

They sat there staring at him for a long second after he'd said that. Then a smile began to spread over Tomlain's face. “Well, well, well,” he said softly. Then he got up, moving like a cat after prey he's very sure about. “It's gonna get dangerous all right, snake shooter. But you're the one in the barrel.”

He started around the table. Saulter straightened, his hand going to the butt of the gun at his waist. In his mind he was calculating the play. Shoot Tomlain first, of course, but get him with one bullet. Square in the chest. Then there were the two men on Tomlain's left. They might get in each other's way so it would be best to take the one man on the right. But then he didn't know about Billy. He could be at the back door or anywhere. He wasn't worried about Schmidt. He didn't look like the type that was going to involve himself where there was a good chance of getting hurt. Probably he'd go down behind the bar as soon as the guns came out.

Tomlain was still advancing. Saulter watched him with a careful eye. It was dangerous to let him get too close, but there was a point at which he'd be in the line of fire of those behind him and that would give Saulter the extra second he was going to need after he dropped Tomlain. He closed his hand around the butt of his pistol and slid his finger inside the trigger guard. Tomlain had his hand on his own gun and Saulter watched his hand intently, watching for a little tightening that would tell him Tomlain was about to draw.

He calculated one more step and then he was going to kill Tomlain. At that instant the front door opened with a bang. They were all startled. Tomlain stopped and turned; Saulter cautiously turned his head to look. It was the woman, the woman from the house across the street. She stood there in the door, suddenly conscious of the tension in the air, uncertain whether to go or come in.

Saulter broke the strain. Touching his hat brim he said politely, “Miss, I wonder if you'd be good enough to wait outside for just a minute?”

She stared at him searchingly. “What are you talking about?”

“Please, miss,” he said. “Just wait outside a moment. Or come back later.”

“I will not,” she said promptly.

Saulter gestured. “I think it'd be best. Me and these men are about to have some business. I wouldn't want you in the way.”

“I've got business here myself,” she said, but a look of understanding was coming over her face. She was in her mid-twenties, but there was a hardness about her that made her appear older. She was pretty enough, but in a jaded, determined way. Her face was that of a woman who's seen a lot of the world and who knows there's not much left in it that will either surprise or disappoint her. Or hearten her, for that matter. Seeing the table and understanding what was about to happen, she felt a fleeting bit of sympathy for the tall stranger. Heretofore she'd thought him just to be another gunman that McGraw was importing, but now she could see he was different from the others.

“Please, miss,” Saulter said again. There was an appeal in his voice, that of a man who had to get something accomplished while he still had the strength. He touched his hat brim again.

“All right,” she said. She gave Saulter a quick look, and then backed out the door. But before she closed it, she called to Schmidt. “Schmidt, we need some more flour. And sugar. And some of those goddam dried apricots. And send us some decent beef.”

Schmidt answered, “I'll send Chiffo right over with it, Miss Letty. Right away.”

Then she was gone, shutting the door. There was a second of silence, during which the mean smile slowly spread over Tomlain's face again. Looking at him, Saulter thought that he'd have no regret killing such a man. They stood facing, each with a hand on his pistol. Then the back door opened and Billy stepped in. Saulter caught a sidelong glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye. It made it worse, having a man that far off to one side.

And Tomlain was saying, “Now, Mister Big Gun, you were just saying your good-byes.” He took another step.

Saulter drew. But, before he could clear his gun, his arms were suddenly pinned from behind by Schmidt. In the confusion of the girl and Billy, he had slipped down the bar until he was right behind Saulter. That, Saulter thought as he struggled, was why Tomlain had been so cocky, so confident.

There was nothing he could do in his weakened condition. Schmidt held him long enough for the other three men to rush up and smother him. They held him by the arms while Tomlain strolled up and planted himself right in front of Saulter. The grin was very big on his face now.

“Now hold on, Tomlain,” Billy said. “Just take it easy.” He came up behind Tomlain.

Tomlain said to Saulter, “Well, mister man, looks like you've got yourself all fouled in the riggin'. Guess it's about time for you to get that little lesson you've had coming.”

“Don't kill him!” Billy said sharply. He put out a hand to stay Tomlain.

The gunman turned and looked at Billy as if he were amazed. “Kill him? Why, I ain't going to kill him! You done told me not to.” He turned back to Saulter and licked his lips, enjoying himself. “Course, he may
die.
But I ain't going to kill him.”

Without preamble he suddenly hit Saulter in the left side, in the wound, a thudding left and right, bowing his heavy shoulders and driving the blows in with all his strength. Air rushed out of Saulter's lungs in a wailing sigh and all the color went out of his face. He sagged in the arms of the men holding him, passed out from the intense pain.

“There, rabbit trapper. There's a little something for you.”

“Goddammit!” Billy swore. He jerked at Tomlain's arm. “You've killed him!”

“Oh, he ain't dead. Are you, snake shooter?” He jerked Saulter's head up by the hair and slapped his face, backhand and forehand.

“Goddammit, leave him alone, Tomlain! You damned animal.”

A little color was coming back into Saulter's face. His legs took some of his weight as he tried to straighten.

“Uh, oh,” Tomlain said, “look out boys, here he comes again.” He let Saulter get fully erect and then timed two jolting left hooks into his damaged side again. Saulter collapsed.

Billy grabbed Tomlain by the arm and slung him back across the room. “Stop it, dammit ! Or by god—”

But Tomlain just laughed. “There he is, all ready for you. You can put him on his horse now and send him out of town. He's ready to travel.”

At the window the woman's face was evident. She'd been staring in and had seen everything that happened. Now she went toward her house across the street, but stopped to watch as they brought Saulter out of the back of the saloon. He was being supported by two men with Billy leading the way. He was stumbling, his head down, barely able to walk. The men were mostly carrying him. The woman stood near the porch of her building, watching, as they boosted him up on his horse. Billy helped as best he could, to put Saulter's boots in the stirrups. Finally one of the men untied the horse. They passed the reins up and put them in Saulter's nearly nerveless hands.

“Now get out of here!” one of the men yelled. He took off his hat and slapped the horse on the rump. The animal bolted. Saulter hung on somehow, swaying and sagging weakly in the saddle. The horse raced past the saloon, wheeled left, and started out of the town. He went by the woman. She watched as the horse ran down the road, still racing under the impetus of the hat slap.

He was quickly out of sight of the men behind the saloon. One of them walked toward the front a few yards to make sure that the horse was heading out of town. “He's gone,” he called back.

Billy said, “He's dead for sure.”

The other man said, “If Tomlain didn't kill him, he'll freeze in two hours. But he ought to make it a few miles first. Won't be found until spring.”

It was starting to snow harder. Billy glanced up at the flurries of flakes falling. “Let's go in,” he said, “and get a drink. I got a bad taste in my mouth.”

 

Across the street, Letty stayed to watch. She was hidden in the darkening shadows of the front porch and she saw the horse begin to slow as he hit the edge of town. A little further on and he came to a stop. Letty could barely make him out; horse and rider were just a dim blur through the falling snow. Almost reluctantly she turned the knob of the front door. “None of my business anyway,” she said under her breath. She swung the door open. Inside was light and warmth. “Hell with it,” she said again. She went in.

A half mile out of town the horse stood, stamping his feet in the snow, undecided about what to do. The nearly lifeless Saulter was barely in the saddle, mostly collapsed on the animal's neck. He was only half conscious and aware only of the pain in his chest and side.

It was growing dark, what little daylight there was being obscured by the snow. The horse looked back toward the town. Back there was a warm barn and hay. Out front was nothing but cold. Finally, of his own accord, he turned and took a tentative step back the way he'd come. Then, his head down, trudging because of the unaccustomed load on his neck, the horse made his way slowly back toward the buildings.

 

In the saloon the men sat around drinking and playing cards. One of them got up and went to the window and peered out. “Good dark,” he said. “Sure hate to be in that ol' boy's shoes right now. Ain't even a star to be seen in the sky.” He turned from the window and took a chair at the table. Tomlain had the bottle of whiskey at his elbow and the man reached over, took it, and poured himself out a drink. “Quit hogging the whiskey, Tomlain.”

 

The horse came trudging down the street. He walked at a halting pace, uncertain about what to do. Saulter, swaying and slipping in the saddle, was virtually unconscious.

In the house across the street the woman was watching out the window of the front room. The room was rough and crudely furnished; behind her were several other women who looked, in makeup and type, very much like her. They watched her.

One of them said, “What the hell are you doing, Letty? Have you gone crazy from all this damn snow?”

“Shut up,” she said without looking around. But she herself didn't know why she was keeping the vigil. Then she thought she saw something, a movement, a shape, in the black night. She went to the door and stepped out on the front porch. Saulter and his horse were standing in the middle of the road, nearer to her house than the saloon.

From behind her one of the women called, “Letty, shut that damned door!”

“Shut up,” she said automatically, her eyes on Saulter. But she pulled the door to behind her, undecided about what to do with this problem in the road. But even as she watched, Saulter slowly slid down the side of the horse and fell in the snow. For a second he lay there. The motion had startled the horse, but Saulter still had the reins clutched in his hands. The coldness of the snow seemed to revive him for an instant. He tried to rise, agony in every movement. He almost got to his knees, then he pitched forward and lay facedown, motionless.

Letty looked quickly toward the saloon. The lighted windows were dim and empty and she could see there was no one outside.

 

At the card table Tomlain was ragging Billy. “When you goin' into nursin'? I think you'd look mighty good in one of them outfits they wear.”

Billy let him talk, watching him over the rim of his glass of whiskey.

“Now you understand I didn't kill him,” said Tomlain. He laughed at his own joke. “And you can't tell Mister McGraw I brought us no trouble by killing him. Now can you? Can you?”

Billy suddenly got up and walked to the bar. “Tomlain,” he said, “I've done a bunch of sorry business in my time. And I'll do more because I'm cheap enough to sell myself for a dollar.” He turned to face the gunman. “But you're just trash.”

 

Letty stood there on the porch staring at Saulter spread-eagled in the snow. She had folded her arms and pulled the shawl tighter around her as protection against the biting snow, but she hadn't moved. Saulter just lay there, the snow already threatening to cover him. The horse stood patiently by, now and again stamping a hoof.

The door behind her opened and one of the other women came out. “What are you doing out in this—” Then she saw Saulter. “Oh, God,” she exclaimed. “Is that the one?”

“Go back in,” Letty told her tersely.

“Now, Letty,” the woman warned. “Don't be thinking of doing anything about him. Ain't none of our affair.”

“Get inside!” Letty ordered. “I mean it, goddammit!”

“Letty, McGraw is coming,” the woman said. But she opened the door to go back in the house. Letty suddenly turned and called through the opening. “Juno! Juno! Come here!” She told the woman, “Get in there and send Juno out here.”