The Sunshine Killers (12 page)

“Letty, how do you know this?”

“I know,” she answered. “Some of the men know. Tomlain and Billy and a few of the others. I guess they all know part of it. And they've talked, just enough, drunk, for all of us to know. Even McGraw has talked about it to me. Hell, he don't really care. They've got plans to get out of the country once they've done it with enough money to live like kings the rest of their lives. He's asked me to come with him. Believe it or not. So there you have it. And the only problem they got is what to do with you. Only that ain't really no problem.”

He turned away. “I ain't dead yet,” he said firmly. “Not by a long shot.” There was an old horsehair chair in the corner and he sat down in that and stared at the floor, deep in thought, his face troubled. This had gotten complicated and he didn't like things complicated. He liked them swift and straight, like a rifle bullet. He'd had a quarrel with one man and he'd settled it and now this other which was going to affect him. He wasn't particularly afraid though he was aware that the men conferring in the saloon across the street might be too much for him to handle in the way things were. He didn't know about this President business, this assassination business. The President, the name of the man was nothing more to him than that—a name. For the last few years his home had been the prairies and the mountains of the West, a place the laws and body of the States did not extend to. But he didn't like McGraw, nor any of his gang, nor their methods.

Letty came up and put her hand on his shoulder. “You want a drink?”

He looked up. “No, thanks. Guess not.”

“How do you feel?”

“Why, fine. I haven't even thought about it so I guess I'm on the mend. Guess it was that soup you fixed me.”

There was a quiet between them for a second and then Letty asked softly, “Who are you, Saulter? Just a hunter?”

He nodded. “Just a hunter.”

“Where do you come from?”

He shrugged. “From the South, years ago. Tennessee. But my home's here now. Somewhere out here.”

“Were you in the war?”

“Everybody was in the war,” he said.

“For the South?”

He nodded.

“Then maybe you don't care what happens to Grant. Maybe you'd just as soon they shot him.”

He looked up at her. “I don't care either way,” he said. “It's nothing to me. If somebody wants to shoot Grant that's Grant's lookout. Him and his friends.”

“You don't care that it's the President?”

He shook his head. “He's just another man to me. He was a pretty good soldier. I expect he can look out for himself.”

She nodded her head slowly. “I guess I asked you because I wondered if I was supposed to care. But what the hell does a whore know?”

He frowned. “I wish you wouldn't talk about yourself like that. I don't care how it is you make your living, you're pretty much all right as far as I'm concerned.”

“Listen, Saulter . . .” She hesitated. “Listen, I've got an idea what might be going on over there, what they're talking about.”

“How so?”

“Well, I bet they're talking about that big rifle of yours. I think Tomlain was supposed to do some rifle shooting in this operation, but of course you've ruined that. There might be a chance they're going to take you in with them. Or offer you the chance.”

“I wouldn't do it,” he said.

“Oh, goddam!” she swore at him. “If they were going to shoot you if you didn't?”

“All they better do with me is turn me loose.”

“Well, they're not going to do that. Look, if they offer you any kind of chance like that you've got to go along with it. Or seem to.”

“No.”

She raised her fists in exasperation. “Listen, the alternative will be they'll take you out and shoot you.”

He shook his head. “A man always has more choices than it seems,” he said. “I ain't all that easy to kill. It's been tried before.”

“You are the most insane man I've ever seen! Listen, don't turn them down if they offer. For my sake.”

He looked up at her quickly. “You worried about McGraw?”

She gave him a disgusted look. “Anything you do ain't going to affect what McGraw does to me. But I'm not scared of McGraw. I can handle him.”

At that instant Barney put his head and rifle in the front door. “Mister McGraw is ready for you,” he announced. He motioned with the rifle. “Just come on. Slow. No sudden moves.”

Saulter got up. He walked halfway across the room and then stopped. He said to Letty, “It'll be all right. Don't worry.”

She grimaced. “Sure.” Then, as if she couldn't contain herself, she suddenly ran forward and kissed him quickly. Then she turned away and ran out of the room.

A
S
S
AULTER WAS
being fetched, Billy was just finishing up his talk with McGraw. They were at one of the tables, a bottle of whiskey between them, empty breakfast dishes pushed to one side. With his clothes still looking as if they'd been hurriedly thrown on, and a light growth of beard on his cheeks, McGraw didn't look so much the polished gentleman. Billy was saying to him, “The point is, Mister McGraw, we got to somehow make good out of what's happened. I know it wasn't supposed to happen, but it has. I feel guilty as hell about it on account of my part, but I can't do anything about that. I just figure we can come out smelling like a rose.”

McGraw had grown angrier as the full impact of what had happened had come home. He said coldly, “This job has involved some intense planning. Intense! And a great deal of work on my part and a great deal of money laid out by our bankers.”

“I appreciate that, sir,” Billy said doggedly, “and I wouldn't have had this happen for the world. But Ray Tomlain is dead and we got this pilgrim on our hands. Maybe this man ain't the rifle shot Tomlain was—I doubt few men are. But he's got the rifle for it and he's got the look. I just got a feeling about him.”

“Do you truly expect me to begin making changes at this late date? I am frankly amazed at you, Billy. I thought you of all these men had a certain amount of intelligence. That's why I've picked you for this job. You ought to understand that you don't make alterations on an undertaking of this magnitude at the eleventh hour. We have been fortunate enough to end up with a ready-made opportunity. We'll not jeopardize it by harebrained fumbling. You were Tomlain's backup. You now become the primary gunner. You'll make the shot.”

“But that's just it,” Billy said doggedly. “I ain't sure I can make that shot. I can't guarantee it. Ray Tomlain could. He
knew
he could hit first time every time. But I ain't sure. Mister McGraw, that's a shot of nearly a quarter of a mile. I ain't that good. I'm a damn good shot, but I ain't no pluperfect marksman. If Ray Tomlain would have fell over from a fit it would have been all right for me to grab up the rifle and try the shot out of desperation. But it just ain't good thinking to go in with me as your main roper.”

McGraw's face was getting tighter and tighter. “You have the reputation. You took the job.”

“Yessir, I'm known as a damn good rifle shot. But this one is out of my range. Besides, you got to understand that the rifle we'll be using was Ray's. And for a shot like this you don't just up and begin using a gun, you've got to have lived with it. And Ray's been practicing. Every day. And I haven't.”

“Goddammit!” McGraw suddenly swore. “I tell you, I can't believe this has happened. I put you down here, kept you down here, where I expected you'd stay out of trouble and be ready at the appointed time. And now look at this mess. You people are idiots. Idiots!”

Billy took a glass and poured himself a half shot of whiskey. He downed it in two swallows. “Well,” he finally said, “ain't nothing I can say to that. Except I thought he was doing right. Me and Tomlain was both wrong. But the bad luck was in that old boy being hurt. If that hadn't been the case, we could have persuaded him to go on without too much bother or notice. But you just don't run a wounded man back out in the snow. Least that's what I thought. And I was scared to kill him. Scared who'd come along with questions.”

“I still don't understand just what makes you think this man would be as good as Tomlain,” McGraw said.

“I've just gotta feeling, Mister McGraw.”

“A feeling!”

“No, it's more than that. It's a pretty good hunch. He killed Tomlain in a fair fight. Face to face. That's a bunch. That's a whole bunch. Then he's got that rifle and you take a man like he appears to be and he's got that rifle, that only means one thing. He damn well knows how to use it.”

“Have you seen the rifle?”

“Yessir, I took a look at it one morning when we went over to see him and he was still asleep. It's special built. Finest quality I've ever seen. And it is just some kind of cannon! Sonofabitch must be about .90 caliber. No, Mister McGraw, I got my man pegged.”

“Hmmm,” McGraw said. He dipped the end of his cigar in a glass of whiskey and then put it in his mouth and chewed reflectively.

“What the hell,” Billy said. “We can test him out. We still got time for that. Just see if he can shoot. We can kill him any time.”

“Which brings up a point.”

“Sir?”

“What makes you think he'd cooperate?”

“Huh,” Billy said. He gave a short laugh. “Don't seem like much of a choice to me. Put a gun to his head and ask him the question. He'll give the right answer.”

“You forget. That has already happened this morning. And he stood there like a statue.”

“Yessir. But there was a woman involved. You was askin' him where he'd been and Letty had been hidin' him. Even the worst of us wouldn't talk under them circumstances. Besides, I don't think it's gonna take a gun to his head. You recollect he worked for the railroads, which ought to be good for us since he'll know the layout firsthand. But they run him off and there can't be no love lost over that. I imagine he might be kind of put out with 'em and this ain't exactly gonna be no feather in their cap. He'll see that. Then there's the fact that he's a Southerner. So am I.” He stopped and studied a moment, reflecting. “I ain't sure but what I wouldn't shoot Grant for nothin'. I ain't sure but what that's the reason I'm in on this job. Course I'm gonna take the money because I'm gonna need it.”

“Well . . .” McGraw said.

“It's worth the chance,” Billy urged. “I don't really reckon it to be much of a chance. Don't trust him. Put a pistol to his head and tell him to hit what you point out. Either he hits it or he gets the bullet.”

“Then shoot him anyway,” McGraw said, as much to himself as anyone. He blew out a puff of smoke. “All right. Let's get him in here and see what he says. We've got a day or two to kill anyway. This way is as good as any. But—” he added, looking at Billy, “that shot is your responsibility. No matter who makes it. You or him.”

Billy nodded. “I understand. I'll get Saulter.”

They brought him in and over to the table where McGraw was sitting alone.

McGraw said evenly, “Sit down, Mister Saulter. If that's your name.”

Saulter pulled out a chair and eased himself down. Barney sat behind him, the muzzle of his rifle holding steady between his shoulder blades. McGraw pushed the whiskey and a glass across to him. “Help yourself.”

Saulter shook his head. “No thanks.”

“No? All right.” He took a long moment to study the hunter. At length he said, “Tell me about yourself, Mister Saulter. I know a little but you might fill me in a little more.”

“Nothing to tell,” Saulter said.

“Oh, come now. I'm sure you've had an interesting life. I'm sure you're proud of it, or parts. Tell me about it.”

Saulter just stared at him.

McGraw raised his eyebrows. “What, unwilling to talk about yourself? Well, I expect that's all right. I really wasn't interested anyway. I think I know enough already. You don't mind if I have a drink?”

Saulter didn't answer, just watched as McGraw poured himself out a neat ounce of whiskey and tossed if off.

“Now then,” he said. He looked around the room. “I'm sure by now you're aware that we're planning a little job. You appear to be that intelligent. What would you say to becoming involved? Taking a part?”

Saulter shifted his gaze from McGraw to the men ranged around the room. “Appears to me you've got enough help.”

“Oh, you can never have enough help, Mister Saulter. Especially of the right kind.” He paused. “Not to make mention of the deprivation you've caused us of one of our main personnel. I believe you owe us some responsibility of that score.”

“Oh, I don't reckon you really think that,” Saulter said steadily. “I reckon your man got just about what he was asking for.”

McGraw shrugged. “Be that as it may.” He poured himself out another tumbler of whiskey. With it almost to his lips, he said, “I understand you've lately left the railroad's employ. As a meat hunter.”

Saulter didn't speak.

McGraw set his glass of whiskey down. “Come now, Mister Saulter, I made a simple statement. It is a true one, isn't it?”

Saulter leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, but didn't reply.

McGraw said, “Mister Saulter, it's going to be difficult to hold this conversation with you if you won't talk.”

Saulter nodded at the killers around the room. “I don't like your audience.”

“They're not an audience. They're interested parties. Now, can we establish that you were a hunter for the railroad? That's simple enough.”

Saulter shrugged. “You got all the answers.”

“And you were cashiered.”

“You still got all the answers.”

“Yes, but I don't have the why. Will you supply that?”

“Why not, if you're so interested. Though I don't see what it's got to do with the business that's laying between us.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“I shot a couple of men,” Saulter said.

McGraw lifted his eyebrows. “That seems to be a habit of yours. Was it a fair fight?”

Saulter shrugged. “Fair if you think two of them coming at me is fair.”

McGraw smiled. “Well put, sir. But if it was fair, why were you fired?”

Saulter looked at McGraw. Then he took a moment to get out one of the little black cigars from his pocket. He deliberately scratched a match on his boot heel and took a long time lighting the smoke. Then he shook the match out and flipped it up on the table. He said, “You're damn curious about a lot of things.”

“You ought to be grateful for that, Mister Saulter. If I wasn't you'd have already been shot.”

Saulter said abruptly. “The boss said he couldn't afford no chance of trouble. Not then.”

“Why was that?”

“Said we was nearing completion and there'd be ceremonies and officials around. Said I might bring on trouble from these men's friends. That suit you?”

McGraw nodded, a pleased look on his face. He sat back in his chair and studied the hunter for a long moment. “You're in a pretty tight fix, Saulter. Have you considered that?”

Saulter didn't answer. There was none for such a question.

“You don't seem too concerned that I might have you shot in the next five minutes.”

“I'll get concerned,” Saulter said, “at the right time.”

“But now is not the right time?”

“Doesn't appear to be.”

“Why not?”

“You're talking. You want something. If you were going to shoot me you wouldn't waste all this breath.”

“What is it you think I want?”

“I don't know.”

McGraw leaned forward intently. “I have heard about your big rifle. Are you good with it? Can you use it?”

A small smile came to Saulter's mouth.

“I mean, are you really expert? What could you hit at four hundred yards? Could you hit a top hat?”

The smile stayed on Saulter's lips.

“A playing card?”

“There's one way to find out,” Saulter said.

“And what would that be?”

“Give me the rifle and get off four hundred yards and put the card in your breast pocket.”

McGraw laughed dryly. “Your sense of humor impresses me.”

Saulter nodded, but didn't speak.

McGraw looked over at Billy. He said to the gunman, “You may be right.” Then he switched back to Saulter. “I'm putting this to you seriously. How would you like to cooperate with us in the matter we have at hand? You would first have to prove your ability at long-range marksmanship, but you seem obviously sure of yourself there. But once satisfied, I could offer you the opportunity to even up your score with the railroad and make yourself a very handsome payday at the same time.”

“No,” Saulter said distinctly.

McGraw looked faintly surprised. “No? Just like that? Knowing no more about the job, you say no?”

“I don't like you,” Saulter said, “and I don't like your crowd. I don't have to know much about your work to know I don't want any part of it.” His face was impassive, giving away nothing of what he was thinking. Only the faint movement of his eyes as they flicked about the room showed that he was tensing up for the trouble he felt was very near.

McGraw laughed, a short ugly bark. “That's the most absurd remark I've ever heard.” He leaned toward Saulter. “You're not in a position to give in to your likes and dislikes,
Mister
Saulter. Has it occurred to you, you might not have a choice?”

“Oh,” Saulter said easily, “a man always has a choice.”

“A fool maybe,” McGraw said. “Now let me tell you something. And let me put it so you don't misunderstand for apparently you don't have the brains I gave you credit for. You are either going to ride out of here when we do, point that big gun at what I tell you to, pull the trigger when I tell you, and hit what I tell you, or else I'll have you shot. Is that clear? I'll have you shot dead.”

Saulter didn't reply.

“And further understand this,” McGraw said angrily, “I haven't decided to take you in. I am offering you the chance to convince me I should. And at this point that might take some doing. You'll have to show me you're very expert with that rifle. And very trustworthy.”