Trail West (A Sam Spur Western Book 6) Read online

  “What’s beyond that door?” Spur asked.

  “The alley.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The clerk led the way and opened the door. Spur found they were in a narrow alleyway. Far to the left was a street, to the right was Main. He choused the clerk to the head of the alleyway and peered out onto the street.

  There was a bank opposite and slightly to Spur’s right. In the doorway stood the man Goodyear. He was watching the door of the Ralston House.

  Spur said to the clerk: “Walk back down the alleyway to the far end. Go awful slow. I hear you run an’ you get lead up your butt? Hear?”

  The clerk heard all right. He shook his head emphatically. He turned and started off at a snail’s pace. Spur thought he was pretty funny and he couldn’t help chuckling to himself.

  Goodyear waited a full five minutes, the clerk was nearly at the far end of the alleyway. Spur thought Goodyear would never move. He could sense the worry in the man. That was good. At last, however, the man moved, going off down Main to the left, passing Spur’s alleyway without looking in his direction.

  There were a fair number of people about and some wheeled traffic. Spur reckoned he would gamble on trailing Goodyear. He might get away with it. He put his gun away, gave the man a moment to get ahead and stepped out onto the street.

  He followed him down Main and turned left into Frazer. The man walked almost to the courthouse and then crossed the street. He came to the door of what looked like a mansion and knocked. Spur crossed the road and sauntered, got half behind a stationary wagon and watched.

  The door was opened by a large man who looked like a bruiser, there were a few words and Goodyear stepped inside.

  Spur wanted to know whom he was going there to see. He knew he wouldn’t get past that door without trouble. If he could find Goodyear’s contact, he would know who was behind all this affair. He wondered how he could get around to the rear of the house, but he could see no way. The daylight wasn’t any help. He wished he were here at night. But he had to do what he could with what he had. He had to hurry. If he lost time, he could be too late.

  He walked down the street past the courthouse and came to an old man standing on the sidewalk chewing and spitting with great vigor.

  He asked him who owned the house he had seen Goodyear enter.

  The old man eyed him rheumily.

  “Ranee Straffer,” he crackled. “Must be a stranger around here not knowing Mr. Straffer. Fanciest bawdy house in town.” He was prepared to go on at great length, but Spur cut him short with his thanks and hurried on. He found himself on a street called Longleat, went down it a hundred paces and came to another alleyway. He went down this and found the gateway to a timber-yard. The place smelled pleasantly of fresh-cut lumber. There was a man there stacking planks. He turned as Spur entered, then seemed not to take any more notice of him. Spur dodged behind a stack of lumber and took a look around. He was at the rear of Straffer’s place.

  Between him and the house was a high solid plank fence. He shinned up this and dropped on the far side. He knew that he might have been seen, but he couldn’t help that. The whole thing was a gamble.

  He found himself in a yard that argued violently with the front of the place. Here was all litter and trash, broken boxes, bottles thrown here, there and everywhere, a broken bed and a splintered bureau. He picked his way through it and found himself at a door. He tried the handle and found it open.

  He entered a kitchen. It was deserted, which was a relief. On the far side of the room was a door which led into the house. He crossed quickly to it, opened it slightly and looked through. He was facing a plush hallway, all thick carpet and gilt mirrors. If this was a bawdy house, it had sure cost a mint.

  Spur went forward. To his right was a staircase, beyond it and to his left were doors. He thought he had as much chance of finding Goodyear here before he himself was found as flying. The place was silent. Possibly everybody was sleeping. They would keep late hours in an establishment of this kind.

  He opened a door to his left. Plainly a gaming room. He tried the next. This was a salon, as plush as the hall. He turned to the door by the stairs—a dining-room.

  He started up the stairs. His boots made no sound on the thick carpet.

  “Hey, you!”

  He looked up. The bruiser was leaning over the banisters of the landing above. Indignation and disbelief showed in his eyes.

  Spur carried on up the stairs and smiled amiably.

  “Hello, there. Just the man I wanted to see.”

  The bruiser looked somewhat incredulous.

  “What’re you doing here?” he demanded. His voice was surprisingly cultured for a man of his appearance.

  “Doing here?” Spur said, looking surprised in his turn. “That’s a strange question coming from you.” He reached the head of the stairs and turned to face the bouncer. “What does a man usually do here?”

  “I’ve never seen you before,” the man said accusingly, but there was a small grain of doubt in his voice.

  “Maybe not,” Spur agreed. “I came in with Ranee last night. Say, how does a fellow get some breakfast around here? I could eat a horse. The activities of the night and all that.”

  He saw that the man held a rubber cosh against his leg. He looked like he could use it too.

  “I think you just came in,” he said.

  “I assure you,” Spur said in his most educated voice, “that I spent the night here.”

  “Who with?”

  “Little dark girl.”

  “Name?”

  “I didn’t get around to asking her name. You know how it is.”

  The man brought the cosh into full view.

  “Out,” he said.

  Spur lifted the Colt from leather with the speed that only he possessed. The man didn’t have time to raise an arm to defend himself, because he scarcely saw the gun at all. It had landed on his head before he could move his right hand an inch. He fell forward and Spur caught him, lowering him gently to the floor. Then Spur went very still and listened for a half-minute. He heard nothing.

  He went to the nearest door and opened it. The curtains were half-drawn, but there was enough light in the room to see a girl asleep in bed. A very beautiful girl. The things one missed being an outlaw. Spur dragged the unconscious man inside. The girl didn’t stir.

  Spur looked around.

  A pair of silk stockings lay across a chair. He picked them up, stuffed one into the man’s mouth and tied it there with the man’s necktie. With the other he bound his hands. He opened a drawer, found more stockings and used them to tie the man’s ankles together.

  The girl still hadn’t stirred.

  Spur left the room and closed the door softly behind him. He had to move fast.

  He opened another door and found another girl asleep. Another door revealed another girl. More and more he was convinced of what he was missing.

  Finally, he came to a door and heard a murmur of voices beyond it. Very gently, he opened the door a crack. He heard Goodyear’s voice.

  “He must have followed the Kid. My God, don’t you realize it’s Sam Spur. While he’s in town I’m not safe.”

  The other voice came, it was smooth.

  “Go to your room at the hotel and stay there.”

  Goodyear said: “I’m not safe there. He was right there in the place. He knows the Kid contacted me. He has to kill me.”

  A girl’s voice cut in: “What’s so terrific about this Sam Spur? He’s just a man, isn’t he?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to convince your friend here of,” the second man said.

  Goodyear said: “It’s not your life.”

  “For God’s sake kill him and quit bellyaching,” said the girl.

  The second man snapped: “You keep out of this.”

  “You’ve got to tell Roach,” Goodyear said.

  The second man told him: “That’s precisely what I intend to do.”

  “Now.”


  “He won’t take kindly to it.”

  “Who the hell cares how he takes to it? It’s not his hide that’s at stake.”

  “All right, all right. Now cool off. Everything’ll be taken care of. Go back now. You mustn’t be seen here. Straffer wouldn’t like it. He doesn’t know a damn thing about this, remember.”

  Spur backed up hastily.

  He opened the next door and went in. The girl in bed was a blonde with fine white arms, a flimsy pink nightdress. She had become hot in her sleep and had thrown back the bedclothes. Spur saw more woman than he had seen in a long time. He’d forgotten women were so beautiful. He left the door open a crack and watched the other door.

  After a minute or so it opened and Goodyear came out. He surely looked a very worried man. He hurried down the landing and went down the stairs.

  Spur waited. He could hear the man and the girl in the room talking. Glancing over his shoulder, he checked that the girl in bed hadn’t stirred.

  The door of the other room opened and a girl came out. She wore a dressing-gown that hung open and showed that she wore nothing beneath. She was young, dark and sensuous looking. Spur reckoned he would know her again, dressed or not. And he knew that he would have to know her again. She passed the door and went down the hall.

  He heard a sound behind him and turned.

  The fair girl was sitting up in bed and looking at him with some interest. He shut the door as quietly as he knew how and leaned against it.

  The girl said: “A man in my room’s nothing new, God knows. But I usually get to know their names first. Who the hell’re you?”

  “Sam Spur,” said Spur.

  “Yeah, sure,” she said, “and I’m Cleopatra. What d’you want?”

  “A few minutes shelter and not a sound out of you,” Spur told her.

  She showed more interest. She threw back the bedclothes and put her legs over the side of the bed. This revealed the fact that her long slender white legs were as perfectly proportioned as her breasts. Spur now wished with a vengeance that he was a law-abiding quiet-living citizen so that he could visit high-toned bawdy houses like this one along with all the other respectable businessmen. She came toward him, then changed her mind, stepped to the window and drew back the curtains. She did this to have a good look at him. At the same time, she gave him a better view of herself. He saw now that the hair wasn’t so much blonde as red-gold. He thought that was really nice. He forgot for the moment that there was a beautiful girl back in the Cimarron Country who was willing to marry him tomorrow.

  “You sound awful sure of yourself,” the girl said.

  “Who’s the man next door?” he asked.

  “In Ruby’s room?”

  “If she’s the luscious little brunette, yes.”

  “Luscious little brunette, my eye,” said the girl. “She’s mouse died black. Yeah, that’s Ruby all right. The man’ll be Jenner, Mike Jenner.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “You think I’m pining for your company, mister man?” the girl demanded. “Men pay to come in here. You’re getting an awful lot of information for nothing.”

  “Who’s Jenner?”

  “Go ask him.”

  “Maybe I will at that.”

  The girl cocked her head on one side and she came toward him with bright interest and curiosity in her eyes.

  “You were joking when you said you were Sam Spur, weren’t you?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m Spur.”

  He thought she was going to curtsey.

  “You know,” she said, “I believe you are at that. What do you want with Mike Jenner? You going to kill him?”

  “I hadn’t planned it,” Spur said.

  “What do you aim to do? What d’you want here?”

  “I want to know where Jenner goes now.”

  “Why?”

  “Long story. I’ll come up and tell you about it when this is all over. We could pass a pleasant evenin’.”

  She smiled. The smile was so brilliant that he forgot to look at her body for a moment.

  “You know, I think I like you. Pity you have business to attend to right now. Say,” her tone switched, “what do you do if I scream? There’s a tough bouncer here.”

  “He’s tied up and gagged in the next room.”

  “You don’t say?” She started to laugh.

  Spur heard the next door open and a man walk down the hall. That was his cue to move.

  He said: “This is where I tell you goodbye.”

  “So soon?”

  “’Fraid so. What’s your name?”

  “Jenny.”

  It was his turn to laugh and she said indignantly: “What’s so funny.”

  “That’s what I call my mare.”

  She grinned. He thought he rather liked her.

  He opened the door and she said: “Come around some time.”

  He said: “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

  “Watch out for Jenner. He’s poison.”

  He could see she meant it. He told her goodbye and slipped out of the door. As he passed down the hall he heard a loud thumping and a muffled voice from the room in which he had dragged the bouncer. Then came the shrill and alarmed voice of a girl. He looked down the stairs and saw a man was half-way down. Had he heard the sounds and would he turn back.

  He looked back. Jenny was at her door watching him.

  From the room where the bouncer was came a female shriek. The door was wrenched open and a girl stood in the doorway. She was naked.

  Spur started down the stairs and the girl started to scream:

  “Mr. Straffer, Mr. Straffer.”

  The man below didn’t turn back, but hastened his descent. That suited Spur. He hastened his own. As he came onto the floor below a door opened and a man appeared. He was a big man and he had a lot of thick dark hair. Spur guessed this was Straffer. Spur palmed his gun and said: “Back up.” The man looked at the gun with some respect, didn’t turn a hair and went back into his room. Plainly, he knew what a gun could do. Spur went on down the stairs. He heard the street door open and close. He ran on down to the street door and opened it. He heard a shout from above and a girl giving out a stream of high-pitched words. He saw Jenner across the street. The man didn’t look back. Spur closed the door behind him and sauntered along the street after Jenner, trying to look as if he hadn’t been near the house.

  Jenner turned along Frazer into Main, went down Main and entered another street. He walked until he had almost reached the edge of town. They were near, Spur noticed, the governor’s residence. To his surprise the man, after glancing around, walked boldly up the drive.

  There was a sentry on guard at the main entrance. He stopped Jenner and shouted for the corporal of the guard. The corporal came, apparently passed Jenner as a fit person to enter and Jenner went in through the main entrance.

  That left Spur slightly stunned.

  Malcolm had said he thought the killing was political and this just about clinched it. Spur’s mind flitted. Surely, the governor himself could not be behind it. Why should he ask Spur to hunt down the murderers? There was something here that Spur didn’t understand and this worried him.

  He walked down the street and found a cottonwood tree. He built a smoke in its shade and smoked for a while, watching the large house, wondering how long Jenner would be inside. He waited thirty minutes and still he did not come out. How the hell, he thought, was he going to find out who Jenner had gone to see in there?

  George Malcolm.

  Spur didn’t waste any more time. He headed for the courthouse. There he found Malcolm in the marshal’s office. He had a pile of paperwork in front of him and he looked like a harassed man. He looked up with a frown as Spur walked in.

  “My God, Sam,” he said, “you’re taking a risk coming here in daylight.”

  Spur sank into a chair. He didn’t waste words.

  “You know Mike Jenner?”

  “Who doesn’t?” Malcolm leaned forward. “Do
n’t tell me you’ve tangled with him.”

  “I haven’t yet. But I aim to.”

  “Then my advice is don’t. Being good with a gun won’t help you there.” Light seemed to dawn on Malcolm then. He said: “Don’t tell me you were over at Ranee Straffer’s place a short while back.”

  “Sure, I was,” said Spur.

  “He made a complaint. He gave me a description of an intruder. It fitted you, particularly the way the man handled a gun. It fitted you, but I couldn’t believe it. Threatened him, attacked his hired hand, frightened one of his girls out of her wits. Sam, have you taken leave of your senses?”

  Spur said: “A feller tried to bribe all three of us to kill Lincoln and his crowd and not bring ’em in. The Kid contacted the man at the Ralston house because he killed Lucky Lincoln.”

  Malcolm leaned forward eagerly.

  “You mean you have the other two? Where are they?”

  “Not so fast. Like I said the Kid contacted this man in town here. I followed this man to Straffer’s place. There he talked with a girl named Ruby and with this Mike Jenner.”

  Malcolm said: “You think Jenner’s on this.”

  “Wait—I followed Jenner to the governor’s house after he said he’d have to tell Roach about the Kid contacting Goodyear and after Goodyear asked for protection against me.”

  “Hold hard, you got me in a tangle. Who’s Goodyear?”

  “The Kid’s contact.”

  Malcolm leaned back in his chair. “You know what you just said?”

  “Sure, I said—”

  “Roach is the secretary.”

  “Secretary of what?”

  “He looks after the financial side of the territory’s business. Jesus, Sam, you just tied up the governor’s right-hand man with murder. You just put a rope around your own neck. The governor’ll never believe a word against Roach.”

  Both men were silent for a moment, slightly appalled by what they found themselves up against. Finally Spur spoke:

  “One thing’s clear, George. There’s not much you can do about all this. Ulster got himself killed because he put his nose in. You’re right out in the open, you could get killed too. Leave it with me.”