“What proof have you?”
“Not a danged bit,” admitted Brick sadly. “Mebbe that Romeo person is
innocent; but I’ve kinda cinched some of the Dale killin’ onto Buzzard,
and he’ll have to buck like —— to shake it off. Buzz will likely talk
about it, when I gets him in jail.”
Malvene seemed undecided for a moment, and then:
“Well, it’s none of my business, but you can’t use my stage to haul
prisoners in. There’s plenty of rigs you can get. I’ll take charge of
the stage.”
“Thasall right,” admitted Brick. “If I pick up more passengers I’ll make
these walk. I’m the best stage-driver yuh ever seen. So-long.”
Brick kicked off the brake and the restive team swung off up the street
to the bank, where Brick stopped them. Felix Bray was evidently watching
for the stage, and came out when it stopped. He was carrying a
canvas-covered bundle, which he handed up to Brick before he recognized
him.
“Want me to put this into the treasure-box?” asked Brick.
Bray stared at Brick foolishly.
“Howdy, Mister Bray,” said Silent sticking his head out of the window.
Bray stepped in closer and peered inside.
“Goin’ to make it plumb miserable for anybody what tries to steal this
shipment,” grinned Brick. “Giddap, broncs.”
Brick realized that he had not signed for the money, and that the loss
of it would brand him as a thief; but he only grinned and snapped the
long whip over the lead team.
About a mile from town the road dipped into a dry-wash, which was a
tangle of willows and rose bushes. He swung the team off the road,
following the dry watercourse until he was able to conceal the stage
from the road.
Silent and Harp asked no questions, but followed Brick’s order to
unhitch the team, which they tied to the willows. Brick tested the bonds
of his prisoners, rolled them each a cigaret, picked up the package of
money and started toward Silverton, taking a short-cut across the hills.
Silent and Harp grumbled audibly, but followed cheerfully. They knew
Brick was leading them back to town—and the town meant trouble. As they
topped a high knoll they could see a string of horsemen stringing along
the road toward Silverton. It was impossible to distinguish individual
riders at that distance, but there was something significant in the fact
that over a dozen horsemen were riding together at this time of the
morning.
“Whatcha make of that, Brick?” asked Silent.
Brick rubbed his nose thoughtfully.
“I reckon it’s lucky that we didn’t go to Marlin last night, and also
that we turned off at the dry-wash. Them jiggers are lookin’ for us.”
“For the demise of Sawyer?” Harp was indignant.
“Uh-huh. Bunch of want-to-knows.”
“More the merrier,” chuckled Silent. “I’ve got two guns and so has
Brick. Five times six is how many? Thirty, ain’t it?”
“I don’t reckon there’ll be any fightin’,” replied Brick.
“I’m goin’ to batter —— out of you if there ain’t,” declared Silent.
“You sure are liable to a trimmin’, cowboy.”
* * * * *
If Silverton was a sleepy village when the stage left, it had surely
changed in less than an hour. At least twenty horses were tied to the
hitch-rack, and an overflow crowd seemed to be trying to get into the
stage-office.
Brick had led Silent and Harp in a roundabout way to get into town; for
he was taking no chances in appearing boldly in the street. They came in
on the west side of town, behind Otto’s place, without being seen by any
one.
Brick stopped at the inside edge of the board sidewalk, between Otto’s
place and the blacksmith shop. Silent and Harp crowded in behind him and
watched the crowd up the street. Nebraska Yocum and Snookie Duggan rode
in and joined the crowd.
“Ain’t even standin’ room in that place,” grunted Brick. “’Pears to me
that it might be worth listenin’ to.”
“If yuh wants to use yore ears—I’ve got a idea,” grinned Silent. “I was
up on that buildin’ last Fourth of July and sat on the edge of the
front, when the rodeo was on. There’s a fence back there, which makes it
a cinch to get on to the roof, and there’s a kind of a trap-door up
there, which they keeps open to give ’em air.”
“Yo’re worth all the trouble I’ve had in raisin’ yuh,” grinned Brick.
“C’m on.”
They circled the rear of Otto’s place and reached the high fence, which
connected with the rear of Pelham and Malvene’s building. It was easy to
climb to the roof, midway of which was a ventilating-trap, half raised.
They tiptoed over to the trap and squatted on their heels. The
conversation was plainly audible. Malvene was talking.
“Where do you suppose they turned off the road?”
“Is this a supposin’ meetin’?” boomed the voice of “Slim” Hunter,
foreman of the Crescent outfit.
A jumble of voices took up the matter, but stopped as Malvene continued.
“It is a sure thing that they did not go to Marlin City last night.”
“That’s a —— wise remark.” Banty Harrison’s remark drew a laugh from the
men who had tried to find Brick in Marlin City.
Felix Bray’s precise voice followed the laugh:
“They have sixteen thousand and eighty dollars in currency with them. I
gave it to the driver before I recognized who he was.”
“Don’tcha worry about yo’re money, Mister,” drawled Jim Neeley, the
blacksmith. “Brick Davidson may smoke yuh up with his six-gun; but he
ain’t no danged thief.”
“The money is gone,” declared Bray. “The stage never went to Marlin
City. You can not blame me——”
“If she turned off the road, we’ll find the tracks,” declared Slim.
“That won’t be hard to do, if yo’re lookin’ for ’em.”
“Well, ——, that ain’t the first money to be stole around here.”
Brick recognized Soapy’s voice. Several men laughed.
“Let’s find that stage,” suggested Slim. “All this talk about stolen
money, mavericked stages and killin’ folks without a reason ain’t
gettin’ us no place. If we find Brick we’ll sure find out somethin’—if
it ain’t more than findin’ out that we’ve been in a —— of a fight. Come
on.”
There was a general exodus toward the door. Brick opened the trap and
peered inside. He placed the package of money on the roof, swung down
inside and dropped as light as a cat to the floor. Silent and Harp
followed him.
Men were mounting at the hitch-rack. Malvene, Bray and Soapy were just
outside the door, watching the men. Nebraska and Duggan were standing on
the edge of the sidewalk, making no move to get their horses. Several of
the men rode away from the front of the building. Soapy turned from Bray
and Malvene and started up the street. Nebraska and Duggan, instead of
going to their horses, turned and came back toward the door.
Brick and his men made no move. Suddenly the small door at the rear
opened and Klein stepped inside. He shut the door softly and took
several steps toward the men before he saw who they were. Then he froze
in his tracks.
Klein had been a killer; but just now he realized that finis had been
written at the bottom of his record. His right arm was helpless, and he
knew he was not a left-handed pistol-shot. He slowly licked his lips as
he stared at the three hard-faced men, who were making no move.
Klein’s eyes flashed to the window, and he grinned wolfishly as he saw
Nebraska and Duggan coming toward the door. They stopped in the doorway
and spoke to Malvene and Bray. Klein’s lips twitched and with a
strangled cry of warning, he threw himself sideways, trying to fall
behind Malvene’s desk, and clawing left-handed for his gun.
Harp’s wrist flipped swiftly and his big Colt thundered in the confines
of the small room. Klein dropped out of sight behind the desk, leaving a
pair of twitching legs in sight.
At Klein’s warning cry, Nebraska and Duggan drew their guns and whirled
in the doorway. The crash of Harp’s shot was echoed by the splitting
reports of four guns, as Nebraska and Duggan met the challenge of the
law.
Such swift shooting is not usually deadly. A bullet tore into the wall
two feet from Brick’s head, while another ripped through the side of
Silent’s boot. Both Brick and Silent were shooting slower—shooting
through a pall of powder smoke at indistinct figures, which staggered
drunkenly back to the sidewalk, spouting smoke from their hips.
Suddenly one of the figures went down, sprawling under the smoke. The
other turned and started away. Brick sprang through the doorway and
almost fell to the sidewalk. His left leg was numb and his left arm
seemed full of needles, but he laughed and fired his last shot at
Duggan, who had reached his horse and whirled to shoot.
Duggan dropped his gun, grasped for the saddle; but his hand groped at
empty air and he sprawled under the belly of his frightened horse, which
tore away from the rack and galloped away.
A bullet whizzed past Brick’s head, and he turned to see Malvene
shooting at him from the middle of the street. Brick shook his head to
clear his vision and his groping hand came in contact with the butt of
Romeo’s pistol, which he had shoved inside the waist-band of his
overalls.
Brick steadied himself and sent two shots at Malvene, while from behind
him came the combined reports of two more guns. Malvene seemed to fairly
spin off his feet and go down.
Silent and Harp were standing in the doorway, looking at Malvene, as
Brick turned. Silent was bleeding from a bullet furrow across his cheek,
and Harp was exploring his right arm to find the reason for a
blood-soaked sleeve.
Silent glanced up the street and pointed to Felix Bray, who was running
toward the bank. It seemed ridiculous for the precise Felix Bray to be
running.
“Does he think we’re goin’ to hurt him?” asked Harp.
Brick stepped into the street.
“C’mon, cowboys,” and he headed for the bank, with Harp and Silent
following.
Brick was walking with difficulty, half-dragging his left leg. Men and
women had come out from places of business, wondering, speculating over
the pistol battle, and the reasons why these three, limping, bloody men
were heading for the bank with guns in their hands. Duggan’s horse, with
the saddle twisted under its belly, bucked across the street, almost
into Brick.
They reached the door of the bank, and as Brick reached for the
door-knob, there came the dull thump of a pistol-shot fired inside the
bank. They stopped. No bullet came their way and no more shots were
fired. Soapy Caswell came running across the street and up to them.
“My ——!” panted Soapy. “What’s it all mean? I seen Malvene get his, and
then——”
Brick opened the door and they went inside. Just inside the railing,
near his own desk, lay Felix Bray. Near his body lay a cheap pistol.
Felix Bray had killed himself. Brick turned and staggered outside, where
he sat down on the steps. He tried to think; but his brain was in a
whirl. The three others came out to him.
“She was a humdinger,” breathed Silent. “My gosh, that sure was a
regular party. Where did they hit you, Brick?”
“Leg and arm,” grunted Brick. “No bones; but a —— of a lot of meat.”
A crowd of people were drifting up to them, standing at a distance.
Suddenly the street seemed filled with riders, riding beside the
recovered stage. They drew up at the bank, and Brick got painfully to
his feet. Romeo and Buzzard were still roped. Brick went to them and
braced himself against the side of the stage, while he spoke directly to
Buzzard.
“Malvene, Duggan, Nebraska, Klein and Felix Bray are dead. Now, I want
you to tell me which one or which ones killed Grant Dale.”
Buzzard stared at Brick. It was unbelievable that all five of those men
were dead; but the condition of Brick, Silent and Harp made the
statement reasonable.
“Some of yuh killed him,” continued Brick. “He was knocked down and
likely drowned in the horse-trough. He was shot after he was dead,
wasn’t he Buzzard?”
Buzzard stared around at the crowd and his eyes came back to Brick. His
face twisted with horror; but he knew he must tell.
“Klein killed him,” Buzzard’s voice was barely above a whisper. “That
girl, Rosie—her and Dale was both detectives. She thought Felix Bray was
square. He was givin’ her a bum steer. She told him who Dale was.
“Klein and Dale were sittin’ on that horse-trough that night and Klein
hit him with a loaded quirt. Dale fell into the trough. I dunno whether
he was drowned or not. Malvene and Klein got him into the stage barn and
into the stage. Then they made me drive away with him, and I had to
shoot him to make the play good. Sawyer was planted to show up and bring
him back.”
Brick nodded.
“I thought so. There wasn’t no blood on Dale’s clothes and I never did
find any around where he was killed. Findin’ his gun in the horse-trough
and then findin’ that Klein wanted to find that gun so —— bad.”
“Who hit me that night in McGill’s place?” asked Silent.
“Sawyer,” said Romeo, seemingly anxious to get in on the confession.
“They had to get that gun. Nebraska and Duggan was the ones what held me
up. They had to do it to make the play right, if anybody comes along.”
“But where did Bray come in on it?” asked Soapy.
“Take me to the stage-office and I think I can show yuh.”
Willing hands helped him to a seat and the cavalcade moved down the
street, where they placed Brick in a chair.
“Somebody get my package off the roof,” said Brick.
Slim Hunter picked up Banty Harrison and shoved him up through the
trap-door, where Banty retrieved the money package. Brick handed it to
Soapy who tore the canvas wrapper off the outside, disclosing a bunch of
worthless paper.
“That’s what the Whipoorwill would ’a’ received,” smiled Brick.
“Nebraska and Duggan was supposed to pull off a fake job with the stage
this mornin’; but they likely seen you fellers and came in to see what
was the matter.
“That counterfeit exchange was too slick; but I didn’t think it was
Bray. I kinda had my eye on Nestor. He lied to me when he said that he
didn’t know who owned the banks at Marlin City and Redrock.”
“He didn’t,” said Soapy. “Felix Bray and me was the only ones what did.
I had him get ’em for me.”
“Yuh never can tell who is a liar or a thief,” stated Slim Hunter. “Yuh
just can’t, thasall.”
“If yuh can’t,” drawled Soapy, “send for Brick.”
Just then Lafe Freeman elbowed his way inside.
“Danged if yuh didn’t do it!” he exploded, slapping Brick on the
shoulder. “Heard there was a posse on yore trail and I hopped along as
soon as possible to pick up their cripples.”
He looked at Silent and Harp and back at Brick:
“Yuh said you’d return ’em in good condition and I finds that these are
shopworn. I owe yuh two thousand, dang yore hide!”