The Sunshine Killers (5 page)

The woman went in and closed the door while Letty carefully descended the steps and walked over to Saulter. For a moment she stared down at him, then she knelt and tentatively touched his back as if assuring herself it was a man lying there. She started to turn him over, looked back toward the house, started to yell, “Juno!” then broke off in mid-syllable and glanced quickly toward the saloon. She got up and went back to the house and stepped inside.

The maid, Juno, was at the window with the other women. Before Letty could say anything, one of the women came forward. “Listen,” she said determinedly, “you better not get mixed up in this. You better leave that man alone.”

“Shut up,” Letty told her. She motioned to her maid. “Juno, didn't you hear me call you? Come along. I want you to help me.”

But the other woman said, “Listen, you're not bringing him in here. You're not getting the rest of us mixed up in this. I mean it.”

Letty turned on her furiously. “Shut up, Hester, you damn bitch. Go to your room. If you don't want any part of this, go up and cover your eyes. But shut up!”

She went out with the Spanish maid following her. The cold hit them like a physical force. The maid shivered and complained, but Letty ignored it. She knelt by Saulter and, with Juno's help, turned him over. His breathing was hoarse and ragged. She bent and listened to his chest. “He's alive,” she said, “but not much else. We got to get him in the house. Help me get him on his feet.”

Juno seemed afraid to touch him. “Get his shoulder, dammit!” Letty said sharply. “He won't bite you.”

Together and with much effort, they slowly raised him first to his knees and then to his feet. His eyes fluttered open and he coughed. “What?” he said hoarsely.

“It's all right,” Letty told him. “Just hold on to us. We're taking you in the house.”

They supported him up the steps into the house, a big arm over each of their shoulders. He seemed to go in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he would be almost walking under his own power and then he would sag down and it would be all the two women could do to hold him up.

They got him through the front door. The other women were standing around, openmouthed. “Goddammit,” Letty swore at them. “Help me. Help me get him up the stairs. We'll put him in Juno's room. They'd never go in there.”

They would not have made it, jammed in the tight stairwell, if he hadn't come to long enough to help them at the last. They eased him through the doorway of a tiny room and then down on the bed. He said haltingly, “My horse.”

“Don't worry,” Letty told him. “We'll see to it.”

They got him in the bed and then Letty took Juno to the stairs and told her to put Saulter's horse in the barn. Then she stopped her. “No,” she said, “wait a minute.” She thought. “They'd find him. Just—just get that big rifle of his and his saddlebags. Leave the horse. They'll think he fell off and the horse came back.” She went back in the room to see to Saulter.

 

Across the street the men were playing cards. Tomlain looked over toward the window and laughed. “I bet that big hunter could use a drink right now. Bet he's a little cold.”

Billy looked at him. “Shut up and play, Tomlain. You calling the bet or not?”

“Always,” Tomlain said. He laughed again. “I always call, Billy boy. You remember that.”

None of them saw Juno as she scurried out of the house, quickly took Saulter's gun and saddlebags, and then raced back into the warmth.

T
HE MORNING OPENED
quiet and clear. In the bunkhouse Tomlain and Billy and the other three men stirred themselves awake and gathered in front of the fireplace where Chiffo had laid on a good blaze. Billy and one of the other gunmen were dressed, but the others were still in their long underwear though they'd pulled on boots and hats. They stood sulkily, listlessly, some of them feeling the effects of too much whiskey the night before, warming themselves from the cold.

Tomlain growled. “Where's that goddam Indian with the coffee?”

At that instant the door of the bunkhouse opened and Chiffo stumbled over the sill bearing a huge coffeepot and a handful of tin cups. He tried unsuccessfully to kick the door to first, and then to edge it back with his body, but it was unwieldy and wouldn't budge. Finally, Tomlain yelled, “Shut that Eskimo hole, you heathen bastard! And get that coffee up here damn quick or I'll kick your tail up between your shoulder blades.”

Chiffo scurried in, stopped, and looked bewildered.

“Put the coffeepot down and shut the door,” Billy called. “Then bring the coffee up here to the fire.”

The boy gave Billy a grateful look, did as he was told, and then finally came forward with the coffee. Tomlain jerked the pot out of his hand before he could set it down, poured himself a cup, and handed the pot around. Chiffo stood by, a hopeful, anxious smile on his face. “You buy me a little wheesky now, maybe?”

Tomlain suddenly whirled, spilling his coffee, and swung a kick at the boy. “Get your ass out of here or I'll buy you something all right!” he yelled.

Chiffo jumped back out of the way and then ran for the door. When he was gone the men stood around drinking coffee and scratching and yawning. Gradually they began dressing piece by piece, gaining energy as the coffee took hold.

Finally one of them asked, “Reckon Mister McGraw will get in today?”

“Ought to be real soon,” Billy said. He gave Tomlain a significant look. “Judging by what that pilgrim said about them railroads gettin' close to tiein' in to each other.”

Another tall, thin man they called Barney spoke up. “You know, that just confounds hell out of me how they can do that—join them tracks up like that. I understand they started one out from the east coast and the other'n from the west coast and they plan to meet head-on somewhere out in the slam middle of the country!”

“In Utah,” Billy said. “Right about fifty miles north of here.”

“Well, hell and damnation,” Barney exclaimed, “how do they find one another? I've rid back and forth across that country and it's mighty wide and lonesome. I've been lost with just me and my horse, never mind about draggin' no railroad along behind.”

“They survey,” Billy explained. “They got surveyors out.”

“A surveyor? What the hell's that?”

“Oh, shut your face,” Tomlain growled irritably.

“Well, I just can't understand it. Them comin' all that way and then dabbin' into each other.”

“What the hell you care?” Tomlain asked him angrily. “What the hell you care how they do it? Your job don't start till they do it. After that is when you earn your money. And damn good money it is, so just shut up and let me drink this coffee.”

They fell silent again, just the sound of slurping coffee breaking the quiet of the long room. Then Billy turned slowly to Tomlain. “This is some deal, ain't it? I shore never figured I'd be in on something this big.”

“It's big,” Tomlain agreed. He licked his lips.

Billy hunched forward. He started to speak, hesitated, and then said, “I wonder ... I mean, I wonder if it ain't maybe a little too big.”

“How's that?” Tomlain asked him. He unbuttoned his undershirt and scratched his chest, the black hair matted so heavy it looked like black fur.

“Well ... think about it. I mean, this is kinda serious. You ain't worried about it? Maybe even a little scared?”

Tomlain gave him a cold glance. “I ain't scairt of nothing, boy.”

Billy gave a sour look. “Oh, come off it, Tomlain. I'm talking straight now, not saloon talk. It ain't like we was going in to rob a bank or kill an ordinary citizen. You talking about the power. Any man that's got any sense has got to be a little nervous about such doings.”

“He's just a target to me,” Tomlain said contemptuously. “He'll bleed same as a stuck hog.”

Barney was unable to keep quiet any longer. He'd been listening to the talk eagerly. Now he put in, “Yeah, and that's another thing's got me dumbfounded. Why, look at all this power of fuss we're going to just for the sake of one man. Why, they'll be nine of us all told. And just a world of plannin' and the money bein' spent.”

“He ain't exactly an ordinary citizen,” Billy said gently. “You don't just walk up and stick a pistol in his belly.”

“Well, is they guards and all like that around? Troopers and such?”

“Shut up, goddammit!” Tomlain said violently. “Can't you keep that trap of yours closed for five seconds?”

Barney looked grieved. “Well, I can't help wondering, can I? Here Mister McGraw has gathered up the finest set of gunmen and desperadoes in the country. Men that know how to get a job done no matter what it—”

“Aw, lay off it,” Billy said. “Sometimes you talk too much. Job like this, it's better just to do it and not worry it to death.”

They had finally all dressed and one man walked by shrugging into his coat. “Guess I'll look at the weather,” he said to no one in particular. He went out the end door of the bunkhouse, shutting it carefully behind him. For a moment he stood there yawning and stretching in the dazzling whiteness of the morning. Finally he looked toward Schmidt's. He saw a horse standing there, just to the leeward side, his reins hanging abandoned. The man took a step or two closer, looking hard at the horse. Then he suddenly whirled and raced back in the bunkhouse. “Hey, Tomlain,” he yelled, jerking his thumb. “You better come here an' look. I think that hunter is back.”

Tomlain was sitting on a bunk, still drinking coffee. He turned slowly to look at the man. “What?” he asked flatly.

“That goddam hunter's horse is out there. Right behind Schmidt's.”

Without another word Tomlain got up, found his gunbelt, put it on, and then led the others as they trooped through the door. As they went he spoke to Billy, “If that sonofabitch is back we'll see who's head it's on now. Wouldn't let me kill him. Well, we'll see what Mister McGraw says.”

They trudged through the snow, staring hard at the horse as they came. The animal, looking drawn and sorry from his long night in the freezing weather turned his head and stared back. They ranged up along his side and Billy went to his head and took up the reins. “Hell,” he said, “this horse came back in here on his own. Look at that.” He pointed to the heavy crust of snow on the saddle. “He's been standing out here all night. And these reins are just hanging loose. Nobody rode this horse in here. He wandered in.”

“By the lord,” Barney said, “I do believe you be right.”

Tomlain looked at the horse and then the snow around him. He licked his lips. “I don't know,” he said.

“Sure,” Billy said, “it's plain as paint.” He pointed. “Horse is still saddled, but the saddlebags and that old boy's rifle are gone. He got off that horse somewhere up the line to try and make him a camp. Probably weak as skimmed milk. He got his rifle and his saddlebags off and then the horse got away from him. Maybe he even collapsed.”

“I don't know,” Tomlain said again. He rubbed his black-whiskered jaw. “Could be.”

“Looks likely,” one of the other men said. “Horse ain't dumb. He wadn't gonna stand out in that cold and freeze. He made back for the only place he knew where they was a barn and hay.”

“Maybe so,” Tomlain said again.

“Hell,” Billy insisted. “Ain't no maybe about it. That man is laying up the line somewhere makin' a hump under the snow.”

Instinctively they all walked to the front of Schmidt's and looked up the road. It was all snow as far as they could see. Nothing to break the whiteness. “Nothing could live out in that,” Billy said. “Not no man on foot and hurt.”

“We still ought to look around a little,” Tomlain said. “Make sure he didn't ride back in and hole up.”

“That can't hurt nothin',” Billy agreed. “Well, we know he ain't in the bunkhouse or Schmidt's or the women's house. That just leaves the barns and them two other buildings over yonder. Barney, you take that horse and put him up in the barn back of the women's place. They got more room and they ain't no point in lettin' a good animal stand out here and freeze. Then have a look around while the rest of us look them other buildings over.”

 

At an upstairs front window of the women's house, a girl looked out at the men beginning to disperse for the search. She watched for a moment and then turned away. The room was still dim, the morning's sun not having fully illuminated it yet. Letty was lying in one chair, asleep, and Juno in another. Saulter was lying on the bed, also asleep. He stirred restless from time to time with the pain. The girl at the window went over to Letty and shook her by the shoulder. “Letty . . . Letty . . .”

Letty came awake with a start. She looked first at the girl and then across at Saulter. She straightened in the chair and yawned. “Goddammit, Brenda, don't startle me like that.”

“Tomlain and that bunch have come out and seen his horse.” She gestured to Saulter. “They look like they fixin' to search.”

Letty got up and went to the window, but the men had disappeared by then. “They won't come in here,” she said with assurance.

“Wonder what they'll think?” the girl asked.

“What the hell do I care what they think,” Letty answered irritably. “They'll think what they ought to think. That he fell off his horse and froze and the horse came back here.”

“What if they don't?” Brenda was a young, pretty, slightly dumb-looking girl. “Why, they're terribly bad. No telling what they'd do to us if they knew that man was here.”

Letty was gruff from having awakened from a nearly sleepless night. “Why should they think he's here? This is the last place they'd look. And they wouldn't come in Juno's room. They ain't gonna think a bunch of whores would take a man in off the street like that.”

“Well, why did we take him in? I don't really understand that.”

Letty frowned at her for a moment, then shrugged and half smiled. “Maybe I ain't a whore at heart. Who knows? What the hell difference does it make? So long as everybody keeps their mouth shut we ain't got any worry.”

“Oh, I ain't gonna say anything, Letty,” Brenda promised. “You don't have to worry about that.” She stole a glance over at Saulter. “My goodness, he is kind of good-lookin', ain't he? So handsome and genteel and all.”

“Looks like a man,” Letty said grimly. She walked over to Saulter's bed. “And I've seen enough of them in my lifetime to last me through all my years in hell.”

“Then I still don't understand,” Brenda began. But Letty cut her off with, “Oh, shut up about it, Brenda. There's lots you don't understand.” She put her hand on Saulter's brow. “Wake Juno up and let's have a look at him now he's lasted the night. One of ya'll fetch some hot water and clean cloths and some scissors.”

Across the street, Tomlain and the others had gathered on the front porch of Schmidt's. They stood around, looking off in the distance and smoking.

“Well, he might'a come back in on that horse last night,” Barney said, “but he left again on foot cause he ain't in this here town. Nowhere.”

“Maybe,” said Tomlain.

Billy made a disgusted sound. “No maybe about it. The man is laying out yonder froze like an icicle.”

“Maybe,” Tomlain said, “somebody ought to ride out the road and see if they's any sign of him.”

“Under two foot of snow?” Billy asked. “It snowed all night, Tomlain. What you want to do, dig up every mound?”

“I don't know,” Tomlain answered slowly. He rubbed his jaw. “With McGraw due in I don't want no slipups. I'd like to be sure.”

“What's the matter, Tomlain? Think you're slipping? Them licks you gave that man I'm surprised he didn't die on the spot. You figure he was still in shape to take off cross-country? Didn't it fall out just about the way you'd figured?”

Tomlain smiled slowly and licked his lips. “Well,” he said, “I guess that's right.”