Slip Gun (28 page)

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Authors: J.T. Edson

Tags: #the old west, #texas rangers, #western pulp fiction, #floating outfit, #jtedson, #waxahachie smith

BOOK: Slip Gun
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Going to where they had left their mounts
before stalking up to the cabin, Woodstole and Bilak led them back.
Then the two men helped saddle the horses used by Jones and the two
soft-shells. Leaving the bodies inside the building, the party
mounted. Jeffreys had released Wymar and Landers, but they gave no
trouble and showed no sign of trying to escape. In fact, from what
they had said to Jeffreys, they were willing to tell the whole
story behind their actions if doing so would help reduce their
sentences when they stood trial.

Before the party had covered half the
distance to town, they saw Smith and Frith riding towards them at a
fast trot. Jeffreys felt worried as he watched the pair
approaching, wondering how they would take the news that he had
once again fallen into a trap.

Greetings were exchanged and the
marshal asked for explanations of the other
party
’s
presence. Giving Jeffreys no time to reply, Lily launched into the
story of her kidnapping and finished with a description of his
behavior in the main room of the cabin. The account was very
creditable to Jeffreys, but he was uneasy when Smith turned an
impersonal gaze his way. Sucking in breath, Jeffreys told how he
had been caught and watched for signs of condemnation on the two
men’s faces.


I
reckon you’d best team up with me for a spell, Stan,’ Frith
remarked.


It’d
be best,’ Smith agreed. ‘You’ve got things to learn,
amigo,
and Ottaway’s not
the man to teach you.’

To Jeffreys, it seemed that a
great weight had been lifted
from him. Instead of condemning him and discarding
him as useless, Smith and Frith would still allow him to stay on as
a deputy. More than that, they were willing to give him instruction
in his duties. Pleasant company though he had been, Ottaway had
never offered to do so.


So
you’re the bunch who’ve been trying to get Wax and me killed,’
Frith growled, moving his horse towards the soft-shells.


W—We
didn’t mean Miss Shivers and Mr. Jeffreys any harm!’ Wymar whined.
‘It was Yorck’s idea to kidnap them as hostages and he said we
should kill them.’


Oh
sure!’ Frith snorted. ‘And it was Yorck’s hired the fellers who
came hunting Wax and me?’


I
don’t know what you mean!’ Wymar whimpered.


Since
Miss Jeffreys hired us, we’ve both had men come to where we was and
try to gun us down,’ Frith elaborated. ‘That ought to make it clear
enough, even for college boys like you.’


I
wasn’t involved in that!’ Wymar insisted. ‘Honest I
wasn’t!’


How
about you?’ Smith demanded, glaring at the second
soft-shell.


Me!’
Landers yelped. ‘I—We—I didn’t even know that Miss Jeffreys had
hired kill—you—you gentlemen until we got here. We were told that
there’d only be the usual kind of local peace officers to deal
with.’


That’s
right, marshal!’ Wymar went on. ‘If we’d known about you being
here, we wouldn’t’ve tried this trick.’


Reckon
they’re telling the truth, Wax?’ Frith inquired.


They’re too scared to be lying,’ Smith decided, after
looking at the pair for a few seconds. ‘Of course, they might
not’ve known what Yorck was doing. He could’ve done the
hiring.’


Except
that he didn’t know we’d been taken on,’ Frith countered. ‘’Least,
he acted like he didn’t when he first came to the office. Say,
though. How did he get out to the farm?’


On the
bay Lily’s riding,’ Jeffreys supplied.


He
could’ve left the stage a couple of mile out of town, sneaked back
and got it,’ Frith said quietly, turning his gaze to the bay. ‘Only
it’s not been ridden hard today.’


Which
it’d’ve had to have been to get him here in the time,’ Smith went
on, also taking in the horse’s appearance. ‘And if he didn’t take
the stage—Stan, what sort of things did Ottaway ask
you?’


How do
you mean?’ Jeffreys inquired.


What’d
you talk about?’ Smith elaborated. ‘Did he ever want to know
anything about the bank?’


He
only asked if Wil was thinking of taking any special precautions to
guard it when the money for the fair started piling up. I used to
tell him he’d have to ask Wil about that.’


Did he
know either Ric or me was coming?’


Sure,
Wax. Wil told him as soon as she heard. He kept asking, so that he
could get some more men if you couldn’t come.’


He
never asked you about the jewelry Poona’s cousin was
bringing?’


No,
Ric,’ Jeffreys replied. ‘Hey, though! He used to hint that there
might be some attractions that Wil hadn’t let on about. I knew that
she wanted Sir Basil’s jewels kept a secret and thought she was
having Tal try me out to see if I could keep it that way. So I used
to say I didn’t know anything. You don’t think—?’


When
one trail peters out, you have to look for another,’ Smith replied.
‘Ottaway knew we were coming and where to find us. With us out of
the way, he could hire his own men. The bank’ll be busting at the
seams with money comes the end of the fair. Only we’ve whittled his
hired help down some. Does he have any friends around town, Stan?
Fellers he sees regular, I mean.’


Only
the undertaker,’ Jeffreys replied.


Who?’
Smith snapped.


A
small, miserable-looking feller,’ Jeffreys explained. ‘He’s not
been around town for more than two or three days. I don’t know if
he is an undertaker, but he looks like one. I’ve seen Tal talking
to him a couple of times after he’s sent me off to handle chores on
my own.’

Chapter Seventeen
– The Tall Man and the Short Man’s Plan

With a
sense of quiet satisfaction, Talbot
Ottaway rode towards the centre bridge. He sat a big, powerful
horse and led a second equally as well-made and capable of long,
fast travelling. So far, no alarm had been raised from the bank.
That did not entirely surprise him. Wil Jeffreys and the Pinkerton
guard were in no position to announce that the bank had been
robbed.

In a way, though, it was a pity that Ottaway
could not have treated Otis M. Capey better. After all, the little
man had been the one behind the plan. The trouble was that Capey
could not ride well enough for the fast flight which must be made
if Ottaway hoped to avoid capture.

It had all began some time back,
while Ottaway was taking pay in a railroad right-of-way war. Capey
had arrived with a proposition. A successful Eastern criminal, he
had been employed as a servant at the British Embassy in
Washington, where he had been planning to steal a valuable
collection of
jewelry. He had been unable to make any progress until he
had discovered that their owner had been asked to put them on
display at a county fair to be held in Widow’s Creek.

Guessing that his opportunity would be
greater in Wyoming, Capey had headed West. By some means or other,
he had been put into contact with Ottaway. Between them, they had
hatched a plot not only to gain possession of the jewels but to rob
the bank of the money deposited during the fair.

Quitting his job, Ottaway had
gone to Widow
’s Creek. There he had made the acquaintance of the lady
mayor and persuaded Wil Jeffreys to hire a special police force.
That was when things had started to go wrong. Ottaway had suggested
men he knew would not be available, in the hope that he could bring
in the gang he and Capey had gathered to act as deputies. With them
running the law, the rest of the plan would have been easy. Wil had
sent for two men, efficient peace officers and smart enough to
smell a rat. So the conspirators had decided to stop Smith and
Frith reaching the town.

Using the information Ottaway
had gathered from Wil, two parties had left to intercept Smith and
Frith. Neither had met with any success. Capey had been at the
stagecoach way station when the try at Smith had failed. Wanting to
make sure that Hardy
’s party carried nothing to hint at what was planned, he
had pretended to be an undertaker and helped search the bodies.
Left alone in the barn, he had cut the girths on Smith’s saddle to
prevent the Texan arriving unexpectedly in Widow’s Creek. Knowing
that Smith would be curious about the attempt on his life, Capey
had written a message on a page from his notebook and, by placing
it under another sheet, imprinted a name on it. He had selected
Poona Woodstole as the only person, other than Ottaway, he knew in
the town.

One of
Ottaway
’s
tasks had been to learn when the jewelry was to arrive. Although he
had cultivated Stanley Jeffreys, he had gained nothing from that
source. Jeffreys either could not, or would not, discuss his
sister’s affairs.

Capey had acted on his own
initiative when sending the Sheppey brothers after Smith. Then,
deciding that the Texan would be suspicious if he discovered that
nobody had tried to kill Ottaway, had told Dilkes to fire a shot at
the deputy. Thinking that Ottaway knew of this, Dilkes had obeyed
and been killed. When Ottaway had gone to see Capey, bristling with
suspicion, the small man had pointed out that they could no longer
hope to rob the bank at the end of the fair, so the man was better
out of the way. Ottaway had been inclined to believe the
explanation. If Capey had hoped to achieve anything, he needed
Ottaway
’s
help. The deputy’s actions when the soft-shells had tried to break
up the meeting gained Smith’s grudging confidence. So Ottaway could
be present at meetings, picking up information and—as he had done
when Hardy’s visit to Wil’s office had been mentioned—ready to
change the subject if the possibility of a bank hold-up should be
approached.

On hearing that the Big Indian
and Jed Trotter were coming on Monday, Ottaway had known that the
attempt must be
made before then. He had deliberately allowed Evan Jones to
escape in the hope of stirring up trouble between the ranchers and
farmers. This had not materialized, but the kidnappings had been
the break he needed. Instead of reporting to Smith as soon as he
had seen Yorck riding out of town, he had visited Capey and
arranged that they should make their move. Taking his false
information to the marshal’s office, he had fixed it for himself to
be left behind when Smith had set off on the rescue bid. That had
not been difficult, for he had guessed that the marshal would take
Frith rather than him when headed into danger.

After that, everything had been simple.
Collecting the horses Ottaway had selected for their escape, the
two conspirators had gone to the bank. A look through the front
window had told them that Ryall was making one of his visits to a
girl in a whore-house across the river and the junior teller was
working at his desk. So they had gone to the side door, where
Ottaway gained admittance under the pretence of having brought
Capey to be hired as a special deputy.

There had only been one Pink-Eye
present and a fast-drawn Colt crashing on to his head put him out
of the deal. Acting no less quickly, Capey had laid an open razor
against Wil
’s
throat and ordered her to be silent. A smart young woman, she had
seen the futility of resistance and obeyed. Then, under the threat
of having the guard and her teller murdered with the razor, she had
been forced to open the safe. With Wil and the guard securely bound
and gagged—to prevent any warning reaching the unsuspecting teller
in the front room—Capey had fetched in the saddle-bags left outside
the side door to avoid arousing suspicion. A blow from the barrel
of Ottaway’s Colt had tumbled the small man unconscious.

For a few seconds, Ottaway had
debated whether to kill all three of his victims. Moral scruples
did not come into his decision of sparing their lives. Public
opinion would be more severe against a man who murdered a
‘good’ woman in cold
blood than at a mere bank robber. Nor would the Pinkerton Agency
ever cease in their efforts to hunt down the murderer of one of
their men. That left Capey. He knew the escape plan, which was why
he did not die. When he told Smith that Ottaway intended to make
for the Canadian border, the hunt would be concentrated in that
direction. So Ottaway would head south, riding relay and travelling
faster than any posse, each man of which had only one horse. He
knew enough about the crooked trails to be safe and the money from
the bank’s safe, while much less than would have been in it by the
end of the fair, would set him up comfortably somewhere
safe.

Riding high on a cloud of happy
thoughts, with his horses
’ hooves drumming on the planks of the centre
bridge, Ottaway was suddenly brought down to earth with a
bump.

Waxahachie Smith rode his
lathered
bayo-lobo
from an alley on the street ahead of Ottaway. There was no
hope of turning back and avoiding the Texan, so Ottaway raised his
left hand in a greeting.

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