The Sunshine Killers (10 page)

“I got a little job for you, Chiffo.”

“What kind of job, señor? Does it pay wheesky?”

“It'll pay plenty of whiskey. Do you like Tomlain?”

“Tomlain!” The boy's face showed sudden fear. “I don't want no job with Meester Tomlain.”

“All you got to do is take a message to him. You can do that, can't you?”

“I don't know,” the boy said slowly.
“No sé—
what kind of message?”

“I'll tell you that later,” Saulter said. He got up. “Com'on, we're going outside. But take it slow and don't make a sound.” He began picking up his gear and the big rifle. He gave one knapsack to Chiffo to carry and lastly took up the whiskey bottle. “Let's go,” he said. He opened the door and they slipped out in the darkened hall. Slowly and carefully they went down the stairs, moving one step at a time. A board creaked under Chiffo's foot and Saulter looked back at him. Then they came to the living room and Saulter stopped, undecided. It was dim and dark in the room. Slowly he moved over to the front door and eased it open. With the door just cracked he looked cautiously outside. Nothing was stirring. Gently he eased the door back, stopping when it creaked. Quietly, he and Chiffo passed through and Saulter closed the door. They went down the steps, Saulter leading the way, and turned around the building toward the little barn in back. Their boots crunched quietly in the crusted snow. It was very quiet and very dim; dawn was a half hour away. Chiffo was nervous and frightened, but there was nothing for him to do but follow Saulter.

They went in the barn. Saulter had to halt a moment to let his eyes accustom themselves to the dark. Finally he was able to pick out a few dim stalls. He looked in a couple until he found his horse. The animal looked around, recognizing him and started to whinny. Saulter walked up beside the animal, rubbing his neck and talking softly. “Find my saddle,” he told Chiffo.

“How come your horse is here?” Chiffo asked him.

“Just get the saddle.”

Quietly, in the dark, they saddled and bridled the horse. Saulter packed him with his several knapsacks and lastly rammed the big rifle into its boot.

“You leave now?” Chiffo asked him.

“No,” Saulter said. “Not yet. Come on over here.”

With the whiskey bottle in his hand he led the boy over to the main door. He cracked it just enough to see out and then sat down, motioning for Chiffo to sit across from him.

He looked at the boy. “When it gets light I'm going to want you to go wake Tomlain up and give him a message.”

The boy shook his head, frightened again. “No, señor. I much afraid of Tomlain. He keel me I wake him up.”

“No, he won't,” Saulter told him. “You're going to give him a message from Mister McGraw. He won't get mad about that.”

The boy swallowed visibly. “I even more scairt of Meester McGraw.”

“Well, he ain't ever gonna know,” Saulter said. “Because if you do like I tell you, you won't never have to be afraid of Tomlain anymore.”

“Because I'm going to kill Mister Tomlain.”

“Keel? Meester Tomlain?”

“Yes. Can you take a message for me?”

The boy was uncertain.
“Yo no sé.
I don't know.”

“Here,” Saulter said. He handed the boy the bottle. “Have a little whiskey.” The boy drank, his eyes watching Saulter over the end of the upturned bottle.

“That's enough,” Saulter said. He reached out and took the bottle. “This job is going to pay plenty of whiskey,” he told the boy.

“Plenty whiskey?”

Saulter held up two fingers. “Two bottles.”

“Two bottles wheesky?”

“And all you have to do is go wake up Mister Tomlain and tell him Mister McGraw wants to see him. It'll be easy.”

“I scairt,” Chiffo declared.

“Have some more,” Saulter offered. “You do right and no one will ever know. Tomlain will be dead and he won't be able to say.”

“What if he keel you?”

Saulter said, simply, “That's not going to happen.”

“He plenty bad man. Maybe he keel you. Then what am I do?”

“That ain't going to happen,” Saulter said firmly. “Have another drink. It's starting to come light.”

 

They waited until it came full day. Then Saulter rose and opened the door a little wider. “Com'on, boy,” he said. Chiffo got up reluctantly.

“I scairt,” the boy said.

“Nothing to be scared of,” Saulter assured him. “You do exactly like I tell you and everything will be all right.”

“Where my plenty wheesky?”

“Here,” Saulter said. He dug down in his pocket and came out with three silver dollars. “Here's your pay. That's the same as two bottles.” He took the boy by the shoulders and steered him through the barn entrance. “Now you go over there and wake Tomlain up. Just tell him Mister McGraw sent you for him, that Mister McGraw wants to see him in the ladies' house. Do it as quiet as you can and try not to wake anyone else up. Tell him McGraw said to bring his gun and hurry. You got that?”

“I still afeered.”

“Have another pull then.” Saulter gave him the bottle and let him take a long drink. “Hurry now, everybody will be getting up pretty soon. Run.”

He stood watching until Chiffo was halfway across to the bunkhouse. Then he quickly went back, made sure his horse was ready, and then went out the barn through a side door. He walked behind the women's house and to a position where he could peek around the corner and see the bunkhouse. As he waited he checked his pistol, putting a sixth shell in it where he'd normally only carry five. He worked the action several times, making sure it was free and easy.

Chiffo had gone into the bunkhouse. Saulter waited, pistol in hand. A few long moments passed and then Chiffo came out. He stopped, looked hesitantly toward the barn and then scuttled in the back door of the saloon. After another moment Tomlain came out. He was tucking in his shirt, carrying his gun belt in his hand. Saulter watched him from around the corner of the building. Tomlain stopped once to buckle his gun belt and then came on for the women's house.

He was perhaps twenty yards away when Saulter suddenly stepped out into the open. He had the pistol in his hand, hanging down by his side. He said sharply, “Tomlain!” The word cracked like a shot in the cold quietness of the morning. Tomlain jumped and then swung quickly around. He stared, astonishment and surprise written all over his face. “What the . . .” he began and then switched to, “You! Goddam! You!”

Saulter held the pistol so that it was half hidden behind his leg. “You made a mistake, Tomlain,” Saulter said. His voice was as cold and hard as the packed snow. “The worst you've ever made.”

Tomlain still seemed to be held by surprise. But in a second, a slow, ugly smile began to spread over his face. “Well, well, well,” he said. He licked his lips, dry and cracking in the cold wind. “Boy, I never thought I'd get another chance at you. This is going to be like getting to kill you twice.” He turned and started walking directly for the hunter.

Saulter watched him narrowly, gauging the distance. He didn't intend to give Tomlain much chance.

Tomlain was talking as he advanced. “Snake shooter, you can't seem to learn where you ain't wanted. Well, now you ain't got nobody like little Billy to stick up for you. I reckon I'll teach you the hardest lesson you ever learned.”

At ten yards he suddenly stopped and his hand flashed as he started out with his pistol. But Saulter had anticipated the move and his arm swung up even as Tomlain was reaching for his weapon. He sighted down his long arm and fired an instant before Tomlain. The bullet took the gunman square in the chest and flipped him over backwards, his pistol firing harmlessly as he hit the snow. For a second he flinched and threshed and then he was still. Saulter walked slowly toward him, his pistol held loosely in his hand. At the body he stood looking down for a second. Already blood was staining the blinding whiteness of the snow. Deliberately Saulter flipped up the chamber of his revolver and ejected the spent shell. It bounced off Tomlain's chest and then rolled into the snow. Without another look Saulter turned, sticking his revolver in his belt, and made for the barn at a deliberate pace. He knew that the shots must have been heard and that men would be coming, but he would not run. There should be time, he thought, to get on his horse and ride away before the men in the bunkhouse could get up and get organized and come out.

He passed the back of the women's house. For a fleeting second he thought of Letty, hating the thought of leaving her with these men. But that was just a reaction to her kindness. This was where she'd been when he'd found her. The barn and his horse were only a few steps further.

At that instant a man suddenly came flying out the back door of the women's house. Saulter caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye and whirled, his hand reaching instinctively for his pistol. But the man had a Winchester rifle already leveled and aimed at Saulter's chest. “Hold it!” the man yelled. He was down on one knee, the rifle steady. For an instant Saulter considered, conflict was working in his face. “Hold it!” the man yelled again. “Goddammit, you move and I'll shoot you. Get your hands on your head!”

Slowly and deliberately he did as the man told him.

“Mister McGraw!” the man shouted without taking his eyes off Saulter. “Mister McGraw!” He looked at Saulter. “Who the hell are you, bronc? And what the hell you doing here? Boy, you done got yourself in a mess of trouble.” He yelled for McGraw again.

Across the way the rest of the crew came boiling out of the bunkhouse. Some of them were dressed, but most were still in underwear, hopping across the snow while they pulled on boots and strapped on gun belts. They came charging across the snow, Billy in the lead. When they got to Tomlain's body they instinctively paused for a moment. Billy knelt to make sure he was really dead. Then they came on, at a run.

At that instant McGraw came out the back door of the women's house. From his clothing it was obvious he'd dressed hurriedly. He was wearing a suit of good quality, but no vest or tie. He had an enormous buffalo coat thrown over his shoulders like a cape. Behind him the women of the house slowly gathered at the door. As he walked toward Saulter, an outraged expression distorted his face.

Barney was the first to reach Saulter from the bunkhouse group. He stopped and stared openmouthed. “My god,” he exclaimed, “it's the old boy that was supposed to have froze to death!”

McGraw put a cigar in his mouth, staring hard at Saulter. Billy had come running up by now. McGraw said sharply, “Who is this man?”

Before Bill could speak, Barney blurted out, “He's the pilgrim that had a run-in with Tomlain. Now he's killed Tomlain.”

McGraw looked at him. “He's done what?”

“He's killed Ray Tomlain, Mister McGraw.” Barney gestured behind him. “He's layin' out there with a hole in him as big as a boot and this one must have done it.”

McGraw drew slowly on his cigar and stared at Saulter.
“He
killed Tomlain,
Ray Tomlain?
”

They were all there by then and they stood ranged around McGraw and Saulter and the man with the rifle. “I guess he done it, Mister McGraw,” Billy said. “Tomlain's layin' out there with a hole in his chest and this here man has got a pistol.” He reached over with those words and jerked the revolver out of Saulter's belt. “It even looks straight. Ray's gun is out.”

As if to see for himself, McGraw walked through the group and looked across the snow at Tomlain. Then he turned back and stared again at Saulter. “Goddammit!” he swore. “Goddammit to hell!” He turned and looked at the group around him. “Do you fools have any idea what this means? How in the hell did you allow this to happen?”

Barney said, “Mister McGraw, we didn't have no idea this feller had come back. We thought he was long gone.”

Letty had come out on the back porch. She slowly sifted her way through the other women and came to the front. Her eyes went to Saulter. He was standing there like a stone, his hands still over his head. He glanced briefly at her and then quickly looked away.

McGraw took the cigar out of his mouth and threw it in the snow. His face was contorted with anger. “Who is this man?” He turned and pointed a finger at Saulter. “How did he get here? What's he doing here?”

Barney spoke first. “It was like I was trying to tell you yesterday, Mister McGraw. This is the one through here a few days back. But we thought he was dead. We thought Tomlain beat him to death with his fists. I don't indeed know what he's doing standing here today.”

The rifleman, who had relaxed his vigilance, lifted his rifle again. “You want me to tend to him right now, Mister McGraw? I can take him out behind the barn if you don't want the ladies to see.”

McGraw didn't bother to answer, just went on staring hard at Saulter. “First, I want some answers. I want to know how this man came to be here and to shoot Tomlain.” He looked at the other men. “How did you allow this to happen? Billy?”

Billy looked down at the ground.

“Barney? You seem to want to talk.”

“He come through here hurt or something. Wanted to stay, but Tomlain made him leave. Whipped up on him, don't you know? We all thought he'd took on off. Supposed to have been killed. Froze or somethin' cause his horse came back. Supposed to have been gone three or four days. But here he is. Beats hell out of me.” Barney looked closely at Saulter. “Thing is, where's he been? Look at him. He don't look like he's been layin' out in no snowbank. Looks considerably better'n when he left.”