The Sunshine Killers (8 page)

She suddenly got out of the chair, leaned down, and kissed him. “Shut up, Saulter. Go to sleep. I'm dead on my feet.” She started to slump back in the chair, but he pulled the covers back on one side of the bed and looked at her.

She asked, “Even with what you think I've been doing downstairs?”

“Yes,” he said.

“All right,” she agreed. “But we're just going to sleep. You're too weak for anything else.” She got up and took off her dress. She had on several petticoats. She got down to her Merry Widow underwear and then slid into bed beside Saulter.

He smiled slightly. “I may be a little rank. Haven't had much chance to take a bath lately.”

“That's all right,” she said, “you just smell like a man. And they don't all smell like that. Some can wash everyday and still stink. We'll give you a bath tomorrow. A whore's bath.”

He looked over at her, her face very close to his. “What's a whore's bath?”

“That's the kind of bath you have to take in a house with a bunch of women and no tubs. A bucket of hot water and a lot of rubbing.”

He smiled. “I might like that.”

“You're getting better fast,” she said dryly.

They were quiet for a moment, their eyes closed. Finally hers flickered open and she looked at his face in profile. “By the way, nobody touched me downstairs.”

“I heard you cussing Tomlain.”

“He tried. But that's all.”

“Well ...” he finally said, “that's another mistake he's made.”

W
ITH THE MID-MORNING
sun came four men, riding across the snow field that led into the town. One rode in the lead; that as well as other things made him predominantly different from the rest. There were his clothes, a long coat and a flat crowned beaver hat, that were of better quality than those of the men with him. There was his horse and the trappings of his saddle and rigging. But the primary difference was in his carriage and his demeanor. There was a hawklike ruthlessness about his face, an intelligence in his eyes, and a cruel cut to his mouth that was made even more distinctive by the desolation of his surroundings.

As they came closer to the town the man in the lead began to slowly shift his eyes in a searching sweep of what lay ahead.

Barney saw them coming first. He'd gone out on the saloon porch to spit and breathe a little fresh air. As he stood there smoking, he glanced casually to his left, then straightened and studied hard. With them still a couple of hundred yards away he suddenly whirled and dashed into the saloon. The others were sitting around their table, drinking whiskey and finishing a fried steak. Barney came charging up. “It's McGraw,” he cried. “McGraw and the rest are coming. Just up the road.”

Billy smiled slightly. “Sit down, Barney. Take it easy else you'll have a convulsion.”

Barney said, as he took a seat, “I just thought we ought to go out and meet him or something.”

Billy laughed. “He'll find his way in.”

Tomlain was chewing a mouthful of steak. “How far off is he?”

“Just a little piece,” Barney said. He rubbed his hands together. “Boy, oh boy, looks like we gonna finally get this show on the road.”

“About time,” Tomlain said. He clattered his fork onto his plate. “I'm tired of sitting around this goddam town.” He looked at Billy. “How long we been stuck here?”

Billy ran a hand through his hair. “Better than a month, anyway.”

“Seems like a goddam year,” Tomlain growled. He got up and walked behind the chair. “I tell you, I've about had it. We don't get this goddam action moving this time and I'm slam ass gonna bust.”

Billy smiled. “You knew the rules when you got in, Ray. So did I.”

“Yeah, but words is one thing. Hangin' around this goddam hole is something else.” He licked his lips. “I wish I'd kept that goddam pilgrim around here to play with. Kill him a little every day.”

“Well,” Barney offered, “things will start to move now that Mister McGraw is back.”

The riders came on, nearing the front of the store. The three trailing men were tough and ruthless and capable looking. They pulled up in front of the saloon and McGraw got down, dropping his reins like a man used to having someone else see to his horse. He climbed up the steps, not bothering to knock the snow off his clothing. As he opened the door and stepped into the room, the men at the table stood up, some promptly, some grudgingly, like Tomlain.

He stopped just inside the door. Slowly he took off his long saddle coat. Without looking he threw it over a nearby chair. “Well, gentlemen,” he said, “I see you're keeping well.” He got out a cigar and lit it, then started forward. “Let's all have a drink. Schmidt!”

“Yes, sir, Mister McGraw.”

“Bottle of my private stock.”

“Yes, sir!”

The other three men came trooping in the door. There was a round of handshakes and then the bottle appeared. “Now then,” McGraw said. “I've had a long, hard ride. Let's not talk about business for the moment.” He raised his glass. “But we will begin with a toast to sure success!”

 

Across the street, Saulter and Letty were still in bed. The room was dim and they still slept. A slight rap came at the door. They both opened their eyes. In another second the rap was more insistent. “What is it?” Letty called.

A voice on the other side of the door said, “Open up, Letty. Something you got to know.”

“Hell,” Letty exclaimed. She got up, being careful not to throw the covers off Saulter, and put on a robe. She unlocked the door and swung it back. It was Sheila.

“Letty,” Sheila said, “it's McGraw. He's back. He's here.”

“Where? In the house?”

“No,” Sheila said, “they just rode in. They're in the saloon.”

“All right,” Letty said. She looked suddenly very tired. “All right, you go on now. Thanks.”

She went to a chair and sat down, looking at Saulter. He pulled himself up on the bed. From the way he moved you could tell he was much better.

“I didn't think he'd come so soon,” she said finally. “I thought we had at least two more days.”

“It's bad, him coming?”

“Very bad,” she said. She hesitated. “You're stronger?”

“Yes.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “I think you ought to go.”

“All right,” he answered. He moved to throw the covers back and swing around.

“Not yet,” she said. “For god's sake. Wait until dark.”

“Why?”

“Why? So you can get away.” She looked at him. “Look, you got it all wrong. I don't want you to leave for my sake, but for yours. I want you to get away from here. It's going to be all different now that McGraw's back.”

“I can't leave,” he said. “I can get out of your house, but I'm not going anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“I've still got some business to tend to here.”

Letty's mouth tightened. “What kind of business? You don't have any business here. Your business is to get away from this place.”

“Not until I tend to this.”

“What?”

“Tomlain.”

“Oh god,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I might have known! Tomlain.” She looked at him in disgust. “Listen, there'd be nine of them now that McGraw is back. You can't get at Tomlain. Forget it.”

“No.”

“You're crazy.”

“Nevertheless.”

They stared at each other for a moment. She broke the silence. “What would you do?”

“I'd hide in the barn or somewhere until I could catch him.”

“You really mean this?”

“Yes.”

“All right,” she said, “but you're just going to get yourself killed.”

“Perhaps. But I doubt it.”

She stood up and began dressing. He watched her. He said, “I'll slip out the back.”

“No you won't,” she said. “You'll stay here at least through tomorrow. At least you can rest.”

He lay back in bed, consenting.

She finished dressing and faced him. “But look ...” She hesitated. “Things are going to be a little different now.”

“All right.”

“McGraw will be sleeping over here. In this house.”

“All right.”

“He'll be sleeping in my room.”

He looked at her.

“I'll have to be sleeping with him.”

He nodded slowly. “All right. I don't own you.”

“He does,” she said harshly. “Bought and paid for.”

“That's your business.”

“Goddam you,” she said. She went to the door and opened it. But she stopped and turned back. “If you've got to kill someone why don't you kill McGraw?

He answered her seriously. “I've got no quarrel with the man.”

She smiled, “That's what you think. I'll send Juno up with some food.” She shook her head. “This is crazy as hell. We're all going to get ourselves killed.”

He waited until she was gone and then slowly got out of bed and stood up. He was wearing just the bottoms to his long underwear. Slowly, he stretched and bent, feeling for the pain. He was a little unsteady at first, but you could see him gritting it through and willing his body to obey. He raised his hands and looked at them, clenching and unclenching his fists and wiggling his fingers. Finally he got his pants and a shirt out of the chiffonier and put them on. It cost him an effort, but you could see he was much improved. Finally he pulled on his boots.

After that he didn't do anything for a few seconds except sit on the edge of the bed. Then he arose and got his big gun. He unsheathed it and stood looking at it for a moment. It was a magnificent weapon, almost six feet long. It broke down at the breech like a shotgun and breech loaded, shooting one shell at a time. He laid it on the bed, then reached in the closet and brought out a heavy leather pouch. He sat down on the bed and took a huge shell out of the pouch. He slipped that in the breech of the rifle, snapped it shut, and lay the gun aside. Now from the pouch, he took out the various paraphernalia for reloading cartridges: the brass, the huge bullet heads, the powder. He settled down to the meticulous task of furnishing himself a large supply of ammunition. As he made each shell he laid it carefully on the bed.

 

Over in the saloon the level was getting low in the bottle of whiskey. McGraw downed what was in his glass with a satisfied sigh. He looked over at the bar. “Mr. Schmidt, leave us please. And take that boy with you. We can look after ourselves for the time being.”

“Yes, sir.” Schmidt took off his apron, put on a coat, and motioned violently for Chiffo to follow him. McGraw watched until they'd gone. Then he directed Barney to step to the door and make sure they were not listening just outside. “They gone, Mister McGraw,” Barney said. He came back to the table.

McGraw looked around at the faces of his men. “Well, gentlemen, it looks as if we're about to go to work.”

Billy asked. “Close, huh?”

McGraw took a map out of his pocket, unrolled it, and spread it on the table. “The two lines are only about thirty miles apart right now and moving at the rate of four miles a day each. They should make the join up in about a week. . . .” He pointed at the map. “About right here.”

Billy looked. “Promontory Point” he said. “Promontory Point, Utah. Has a nice sound to it. That a town?”

“No, just a geographical name the railroads have picked out for where they intend to meet. Now, I don't know when the ceremonial hookup is going to be made—”

Barney broke in. “They really going to drive a gold spike? I mean a real gold spike?”

“Yes,” McGraw said, annoyed. “But that's not our concern. As I say, I don't know when the ceremonial hookup will be—that'll depend on Washington and the governmental officials—but I want to move out of here in a couple of days and establish a camp within striking distance of Promontory Point.”

Billy hesitated, then interrupted. “Wanted to, uh, ask you about the getaway arrangements, Mister McGraw. Has any more been done on that?” He laughed. “That's of some interest to us.”

McGraw nodded. “Good point.” He stuck a cigar in his mouth. “I'm going to have horse relay stations set up every ten miles going south. There'll be four, with top-quality horses ready for every man. By the time you've used those up you ought to have outrun any immediate pursuit. Even if there is any.” He looked around at them through a wreath of smoke. “You understand, of course, that if everything goes according to plan there won't be any pursuit. In that great crowd and turmoil it will be impossible to know where the shots came from. And the soldiers and other guards should be in total confusion. But I'm making every precaution that every possibility is taken care of.”

“Well, it's just that it's so big,” Billy said depreciatingly. “I mean, the target is a pretty big man and it might stir up a hornets' nest.”

“I understand and I agree. The final arrangements on the getaway will be completed while we are in our forward camp. Every man will be completely looked after. I'm not expecting any of you to take foolhardy chances in this enterprise. As you know, every one of you will be out of the country with all the money you'll ever need. Plans right now are for you to take a steamship out of Tampico, but that will all be finalized at the appropriate time. But I assure you that nothing will be left to chance.”

“We appreciate that,” Billy said.

“Now,” McGraw said, “let's get down to the actual plan of battle. I believe we can consider it set and it's almost exactly as forecast.” He took up another roll of plans and spread it out on the table, anchoring the corners with bottles and glasses. “This is just a rough sketch, but it will do to give you all the details. Here”—his finger traced a set of pencil tracks—“is the line of the tracks. Both east and west. Here”—he pointed to an X—“is where they will meet. That is absolute and certain, it's been selected by both railroads in advance so the various paraphernalia for the celebration can be erected. They will arrange to meet there and join the two tracks.” He made a sweeping motion with his finger. “All the country around is rocky and broken and very rough. Here”—he stabbed out a finger to some marks—“is where we have been so very fortunate. This is a butte that commands a view of the joining point and will provide a clear field of fire at our target. It is from here that Mister Tomlain will make the shot that will make us all very rich.” He looked around at them and smiled slowly. “Believe me, gentlemen, it's perfect.”

They mirrored his smile, looking over and grinning at Tomlain, who was beginning to swell with the attention. McGraw went on. “The distance is three hundred fifty-two yards. We have measured it and remeasured it. From that distance and with the necessary elevation to give him an absolutely clear shot, I don't see how Ray Tomlain can miss. Do you, gentlemen?”

They said, “Ain't no chance!” And “By god, that money's good as ours!” And “Look out, you South American senoritas!” And “Best rifle shot in the world!”