THE GUN SPEAKS
The following morning found Kent in Standing Rock closeted with
Gallup. Kent was a nervous wreck. Molly had refused to speak to him;
his men were sullen, aloof; Tobias had been back about the notes,
and to top it all the specter of Johnny Dice walked beside him
wherever he went.
“You been seein’ ghosts, too?” Aaron asked.
“You know, then, eh?” old Jackson answered miserably. “I saw him as
plain as I’m seein’ you, Gallup. The girl did, too. I’ll never
forget how it moaned. I used to laugh at men who believed in
haunts.” Kent shook his head. “I’m past doin’ that now. When did you
see it?”
“Last night. It was here—but it ain’t no haunt. It’s Dice himself! I
found footprints beneath the window this mornin’. Let him come
ag’in. I won’t miss him a second time.”
“You mean he’s alive—that he ain’t killed?”
“You’ve got it! I knew you couldn’t figger him dead unless you’d
seen his body put in the ground. He’s fooled us all, even the
Basque. Madeiras was here last night threatenin’ me. Told me he’d
put me in Carson Penitentiary if I tried to marry Molly.”
“I was hopin’ you’d change your mind about that, Gallup. The girl’s
half mad.”
“Well, you weren’t able to do anythin’ for Tobias yesterday. I’ll
wait ’till day after tomorrow. You pay the money or I take the girl.
She ain’t got no use for you, nohow. A man’s got to have a little
backbone if he wants to keep his head up with wimmen. As soon as she
pulled Traynor’s name on you, you wilted. I don’t know how much Dice
knows, but it’s too much. Madeiras is makin’ big talk, too. The damn
bosco stole that old Moqui charm of mine. He knew who had it, too.”
“What?” Kent’s mouth twitched. He shook his fist in Gallup’s face.
“How’d he know that?” he cried.
“That scares you, does it? Let him prove what he——” Gallup stopped
short, his eyes on the door to the adjoining room. He had seen it
move! He knew that he had closed it when Kent came in. Pushing his
visitor out of the way, Aaron made a leap for the door and threw it
open. Tobias was caught flat-footed.
Gallup grabbed the man by his coat and dragged him into the room.
“Eavesdroppin’, eh?” Aaron screamed. “I’ll teach you to spy on me.
You’re through—fired! You ain’t got a cent but what you got from me.
You pussyfootin’ swine, what were you hopin’ to hear! Take _that_!”
Tobias Gale fairly bristled as he got up from the floor. So wrathful
was he that his little body trembled from head to foot. For years he
had suppressed his emotions, bridled his desires, made a machine of
himself. Gallup marveled as he gazed at him now.
“Let us be honest for once, Aaron Gallup,” Tobias said with fine
impudence. “When the pot calls the kettle black it’s time to tell
the truth. What I’ve got is mine. I earned it doing your dirty
bidding.
“You’ll not kick me out. I’ve protected myself. Indeed I have.
You’ll find that out when you try to call in some of your loans.
Humph! A swine am I, eh? You are the swine, Aaron Gallup.
“I know why you wanted Johnny Dice put out of the way, and I know
that Crosbie Traynor didn’t kill himself. You know it, too! You’ll
crawl to me before I’ve finished. You just try to kick me out, to
cheat me—and I’ll tell what’s what.
“You’ve kicked and beat me for years. You thought I didn’t mind.
Well, I’ve made it my business to find out about you. You start your
little tricks, and Molly Kent will know, and Johnny Dice will know.
I’ll talk you so deep into jail that the Carson Penitentiary will
crumble to ruins before they let you out.”
Tobias hurled a chair from his path.
“Get out of my way!” he warned Gallup. “I’m leaving this house now
forever. When you’ve got something to say to me you can come to the
hotel and find me.”
And the slave marched out, the king at last!
Kent and Gallup sat and stared at each other for countless minutes.
Crushed, dumfounded, Kent reached for his hat finally and without a
word stumbled down the stairs to get into his rig and start for
home.
Gallup seemed unaware of his going. Meal time came, but Aaron still
sat in his upstairs room, fixedly gazing into space. Some one
knocked at his door, but he heard it not. His brain refused to hold
any thought other than that Johnny Dice lived and would have the
truth from Tobias.
Aaron’s gun lay upon the table before him. As he continued to sit in
his trancelike state the pistol began to claim his attention. In
fact, Gallup fancied it talking to him.
“You’ve lived by the gun,” the weapon seemed to say. “I’ve seen you
through every big crisis of your life. I do my work well when
properly handled. I stop babbling tongues; smother secrets; give the
old the strength of the young. I am your friend, Aaron Gallup. Men
whom you have trusted have failed you or else they have been clumsy,
stupid—in me alone can you place dependence.”
Yes, it was plain, Johnny Dice had to die. Tobias and Madeiras were
dangerous—they could be attended to later, but Johnny Dice’s end was
imperative. He had to go. But how? It had to be soon—before the boy
talked with the other two. That meant tonight! Johnny Dice would
have to die tonight!
Gallup began to shake off his lethargy. Between now and sundown he
had to be ready.
He went downstairs and puttered over his stove preparing food. Color
flowed back into his face as his brain began to function again. He
mumbled to himself as he settled on what he would do. Gallup’s
vanity took much pleasure from the proposed plan. It was simple, but
ripe with the native ingenuity which had brought Aaron across many a
rough spot.
In brief, it was this: no one but Tobias Gale and Jackson Kent knew
that he had seen through Johnny’s game. The boy had first appeared
to Kent and then to him. That argued that Johnny would be hiding
out—anxious to keep alive the story of his death.
Last night the boy’s ghostly visit had been more than a success.
Now, if he, Gallup, spread the story of what he had seen—the
grinning face, the fiendish cry—wouldn’t word of his talking reach
Johnny? The man must have some confederate who would carry the tale.
But supposing that failed, if men heard the coroner talking of
having seen a ghost, and this very night that ghost should return
and be killed, and proved no ghost at all—well, wouldn’t that be
alibi enough? Yet the law couldn’t touch Gallup for that.
So, then, it got down to whether Johnny would return. Aaron was
satisfied to believe that he would, so between then and sunset he
spread his story up and down the main street of Standing Rock.
Charlie Paul, loafing in front of the Palace Hotel, heard it and
carried it to Johnny.
“He look sick, Gallup,” the Indian went on. “He pretty damn well
scared, him.”
“Guess Aaron knows haunts is hostile to him,” Johnny said more to
himself than to Charlie.
“Him—Gallup—have big fight, too,” the faithful Indian added.
“What fight? No savvy that, Charlie.”
“Man, Gale—all bus’ up.”
“Split—all off, you mean?”
“Him split,” Charlie grinned. “Him, Gale, live um hotel.”
“Well, I’m damned!” Johnny dropped the frying pan to better voice
his surprise. “Them two old junipers fallin’ out—now what do you
know ’bout that? You hear any more, Charlie?”
“Nah. Gale get horse, he drive away.”
“There’s a kittle of fish for you!” Johnny shook his head
uncomprehendingly. “I should admire to know what’s up. Mebbe so we
find out tonight.”
Unknown to Johnny, Tobias Gale had returned to Standing Rock shortly
after sundown. He had not been alone when he reached the outskirts
of the town. There he had stopped, and the man who occupied the rig
with him had stepped to the ground. Gale had driven on, and the
other man, after ten minutes, had started to walk the remaining
distance into the Rock.
Tobias made no effort to see him again, but he was apparently well
satisfied with his day’s work. The man with whom he had driven
across country that afternoon could be expected to furnish rare
entertainment for one Gallup.
Gale made some discreet, but futile, inquiries regarding the
whereabouts of Tony Madeiras and retired to his room. This was
Gallup’s night, and Tobias was in no way inclined to share the
spotlight with him.