McAllister 7 Page 6

  Ham Stoppard was a little put out when they halted at the express office in Caspar and McAllister told him he could pour the contents of the strong box out on the street. There were a few rather warm words between them when McAllister refused to help Ham tote the box into the express office.

  ‘I ain’t sweating over a heap of sand,’ McAllister declared.

  ‘That’s gold,’ said Ham. ‘I swear it’s gold.’

  ‘I swear it’s sand. How about a hundred-dollar bet on it?’

  Ham turned quite pale even at the thought of betting a hundred dollars on anything, even a certainty. It took him some time to be persuaded to open the box. When he saw that the contents were sand, he gave a fine performance of a man totally surprised. McAllister almost believed in him.

  ‘Next time,’ McAllister threatened, ‘I see the box before it’s packed. This is the last time I risk my hide for a heap of sand.’

  That night Ham hung on a good one and McAllister had to dump him into the selfsame horse trough. McAllister was beginning to worry about the boy. For one reason or another, or maybe one reason and another, he was starting to go to pieces.

  Ham rode back to Black Horse the following day on top of the stage, because he could not bear to be confined. Even with the windows wide to the world he found the vehicle airless. He swore off strong drink for the rest of his life.

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ McAllister snarled. He was never good in the early hours of morning. ‘You should swear off being in cahoots with a bank owner to dupe poor sheriffs and sparking lovely dark-haired girls.’

  Ham had the grace to blush scarlet. Whether it was at the mention of the banker or the girl, McAllister would never know.

  Chapter Ten

  When McAllister reported the whole business to Lindholm, the banker was furious. Well, let us say that he was furious at first. He burst out about sacred trust and a lot more of that kind of thing. He said that he would fire Ham and that he would have McAllister’s badge. Ham said if he felt like that, he would happily resign. In truth, he was still too hungover to care much what happened to him and seemed to be existing in a haze of unreality. McAllister took off his badge and tossed it on to the banker’s desk. At this point, Lindholm seemed to switch his mood right around. Suddenly, he was greatly appreciative of the great risk both of them were taking. All this gold had been a great worry to him. They must bear with him. He would find some way of rewarding them. He shook them both by the hand. There would be one more shipment of this lot of gold, and then they would rethink the whole situation.

  McAllister said: ‘You’ll have to do a whole lot of thinking, Lindholm. Now that the other prospectors are here.’

  That startled the banker. ‘What prospectors?’

  ‘They are starting to come into the country,’ McAllister told him. ‘The word always gets out, no matter how careful you are. You know how it is.’

  The banker nodded and nodded. Indeed he did. He must protect Joe’s interests. That was his sworn duty, as it was the duty of every banker to protect his clients. If Joe would reveal where his gold lay so that a proper arrangement could be made ... Couldn’t McAllister talk to him, persuade him. Joe was an old man and he needed looking after.

  ‘I’ve tried,’ McAllister said. ‘Joe’s a stubborn old man.’

  ‘Try again,’ said Lindholm. ‘Don’t give up trying. I have a feeling harm will come to the old fellow if we don’t do something. According to him, the gold we have shipped is nothing compared with what is still in the ground.’ He fixed his eyes on McAllister. ‘I have a feeling that he has not staked his claim, you know. He must stake his claim. Then we’ll know.’

  ‘I’ll have another try,’ said McAllister.

  As he walked away from the bank, he thought about that. All he could think of was that Joe must be watched, somehow or other, around the clock.

  When he walked into the office, he found Charlie Stellino there. He had already heard about the failed attack on the stage.

  After expressing his pleasure at not having been present, Charlie said: ‘You sure they was only fooling, Rem?’

  ‘We surprised them all right when Horry whipped up his team,’ McAllister said, ‘but we did not surprise them all that much. They know their business too well for that, Charlie. No, they had to show they were after the gold, because they couldn’t afford to let us know they knew there was only sand in the strong box. There’s somebody on the inside who knows as much or more than us.’

  ‘So who’s on the inside?’

  ‘That we know of — old Joe himself, Lindholm and Ham Stoppard.’

  ‘That’s it. There ain’t nobody else.’

  ‘There’s the other clerk in the bank, and there’s the girl.’

  ‘How about the expressman in Caspar?’

  ‘He don’t know the gold’s coming.’

  ‘Well,’ said Charlie, ‘we can rule out Ham and the girl.’

  ‘We don’t rule anybody out,’ said McAllister.

  ‘Hell,’ said Charlie, ‘don’t we?’

  They took one small drink together, just to oil the weariness of the day from their throats. They sat around the office while McAllister cleaned and oiled his weapons, which had suffered from the dust of the road. They talked. Charlie was a man who was smarter than he talked. Which was just as well. He said: ‘Rem, one of us has got to track them fellers back from the next hold-up. There ain’t no other way of pulling anything off against them.’

  ‘We’re thinking the same,’ said McAllister. ‘Which means, most likely, they’re thinking the same thing.’

  ‘You agree they’re going to hit the last consignment of gold to go out?’

  ‘Yes,’ said McAllister, ‘I agree.’

  ‘So this is our last chance.’

  ‘Certainly for some time.’

  Charlie said: ‘I thought about this a lot. You’ll have to ride inside with a good horse tied on behind.’

  ‘I had the same idea. Then I remembered how they shot that leader at their first hyste. If I tie a horse behind, likely they’ll know what it’s for and they’ll take it or shoot it.’

  ‘You could be right. So you have to trail the stage.’

  ‘How can you trail the stage in the open without being spotted?’

  ‘So what the hell do we do? We have no idea where they’ll hit us this next time.’

  ‘That’s right.’ McAllister assembled his revolver in silence. He loaded it and frowned. ‘There’s only one way to do it. I’ll have to be hidden somewhere along the trail, at the Caspar end. I wait till the stage reaches me and tells me where it was stopped. Then I come back and start tracking. It’s a hell of a gamble, but can you think of any other way?’

  ‘No, I can’t,’ said Charlie. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have somebody this end of the road on the off-chance they might see the hold-up. That way we would have the chance of at least two riders in the chase.’

  McAllister eyed him speculatively. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Yes, that makes sense. Me the far end of the road and you somewhere halfway, say the spot where they stopped the stage before.’

  ‘I’ll go along with that,’ Charlie said. There was no doubt or anxiety in his face now. He could see the action. Charlie was always at his best when the action looked concrete.

  ‘So,’ said McAllister. ‘That’s settled. Now, how about our friends. When did they get back into town?’

  ‘Madders got in from the south around seven in the evening. Stevenson came in after dark, say, ten. Their horses had been ridden some. Madders’ horse had a bullet burn along its nearside flank. He didn’t offer any explanation for it. Just showed surprise when it was pointed out to him.’

  McAllister looked vexed. ‘My shooting wasn’t ever that bad,’ he said.

  ‘You were on a moving stage.’

  ‘Must have been from one of his friends’ bullets.

  Charlie looked skeptical. McAllister gave him another drink and sent him out to watch Joe Ramage’s
house.

  Lige Copley rode into town to report on the ranch and receive orders. He and McAllister talked horses for an hour or more and McAllister bought him a meal at the Chinese restaurant. Lige put more food away into his beanstalk frame than a man four times his size would have been ashamed to be seen consuming in public. McAllister did not know whether to feel proud or embarrassed. Wu Song, who owned the restaurant, said: ‘Jeez Clist, I never seen nobody eat nothing like it.’

  Lige rode off into the sunset, and McAllister returned to the office at the same time Charlie arrived. He said: ‘That feller Stevenson just called on Joe. They’re drinking the old man’s best liquor. That Allison gal is a-hovering around them till it sickens you to see it.’

  ‘You’re jealous.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  McAllister buckled on his gun. Charlie said: ‘Where you going?’

  McAllister told him: ‘Miss Allison should be sparked by local men only. I’m going to prize her loose from the interloper.’

  Charlie said earnestly: ‘You’re a man who knows his duty.’

  ‘Ain’t I?’ said McAllister. ‘Take a badge over to Mark Tully and tell him to stuff it in his pocket. I have a feeling we’re going to need old Mark around here before we’re through.’

  ‘I know where Mark’ll tell you to stuff that badge.’

  McAllister smiled sadly and went out.

  He did not hurry himself down to Joe’s house, because he was pretty sure that Stevenson would be in no hurry to leave, and not only because of the lovely girl, either. Because of the lovely gold.

  His knock on the street door was answered by the girl, as he had hoped.

  ‘Good evening, Sheriff,’ she said.

  He went to enter, but found her in his path. ‘I’m here to talk to Joe,’ he said.

  ‘Uncle Joe is engaged at this moment,’ she said.

  McAllister took off his hat politely and said: ‘Folks disengage when the sheriff calls officially.’

  She hesitated. ‘I’ll tell him you’re here,’ and turned away from the door.

  He followed close behind her and said: ‘No call, ma’am.’ She was a little mad, but there was not much she could do about it. McAllister followed her right through the house to the back porch.

  Old Joe cried out: ‘Why, Rem, this sure is a pleasure. Have a drink?’

  ‘Miss Allison told me you were engaged. Joe. Sorry—’

  ‘Engaged? Hell, I ain’t engaged. Just jawing with a new friend here. Stevenson, meet McAllister. He’s the law in the parts, such as it is. Ha! Ha!’

  ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ said Stevenson. He rose to greet McAllister, who found his hand grip dry and firm.

  Joe said: ‘We was having a mighty interesting talk, Rem. Mighty interesting. Stevenson is a mining man. Knows all there is to know about gold and stuff.’

  McAllister was genial. He beamed on host and fellow guest, and extended his great smile warmly to the girl.

  ‘I’d bet a thousand dollars,’ he said, ‘I know what you’re talking about, Joe.’

  ‘That’s a lot of money,’ said Joe.

  ‘Not for you.’

  ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ said Joe.

  ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ said Stevenson. Even the girl smiled. Joe beamed a million dollars’ worth of happiness.

  ‘What?’ said Joe.

  ‘Mr Stevenson was telling you that for your own sake you should disclose the whereabouts of your mine. You should get organized properly and et cetera.’

  Joe cried: That’s it. That’s what we was talking about.’

  ‘Uncanny,’ said the stranger.

  ‘I’ll bet old Lindholm is trying to sell you the same idea,’ said McAllister.

  ‘That about the size of it,’ said Joe.

  McAllister found a seat and accepted the drink the girl offered him. He drank, and found the rye excellent. He said: ‘You’re keeping a good cellar, Joe.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Joe. ‘A man in my position ‘You hear the road agents made another try at the stage, Joe?’

  ‘Is that a fact?’

  ‘Sure is. But we pulled a fast one on them.’

  Stevenson enquired: ‘What happened exactly, Sheriff?’

  ‘Why,’ said McAllister, ‘we were approaching the spot where the road agents stopped the stage before. It’s just the right place for a hyste. The road is so steep that the team is at a slow walk. I told old Horry to whip up the team at the last moment because I’d spotted riders among the trees. We went over the brow of the hill without the wheels touching. They came after us, firing off their pieces, but they were too late. We got clean away into Caspar with the gold intact.’

  ‘That sure is great news,’ said Joe. ‘But it backs up my claim, Mr Ramage,’ said Stevenson, ‘that while there’s gold, there’s danger for you. Sheriff, I’m trying to talk Mr Ramage into considering a business partnership. I’m an engineer, and I could get the gold out of those hills in no time at all. It’d squeeze our work-time down and lessen the danger-time. You see that, don’t you? Most likely a year or less would see us through. By engineering the process properly we could extract a far higher percentage of gold, making anything you paid me amply financed over and over by the greater gain.’

  McAllister said: ‘There’s a lot in what he says, Joe. I’d think on it.’

  Joe looked a little sulky. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I’ll think on it.’

  ‘If I could have a look at your claim, Mr. Ramage,’ said Stevenson, ‘that would given me a chance to assess its potential.’

  Old Joe looked a little wild. He cried: ‘You’d assess your potential too, I dare say.’

  Stevenson protested. ‘All I look for is a legitimate return for my time and trouble, Mr Ramage. The extra gold modern methods would produce would more than compensate me.’

  Joe said: ‘I ain’t revealing the whereabouts of my claim, and that’s final.’

  ‘Take me to it blindfold,’ said Stevenson. ‘Nobody’s trying to rob you.’

  ‘Like hell they ain’t,’ Joe yelled, going falsetto. ‘They took a whole load of gold, didn’t they? What do you call that?’

  McAllister said: ‘I think we’ve seen the last hold-up, Joe. They learned their lesson yesterday. Our guard on the stage is too much for ’em.’

  Stevenson said: ‘Sure looks like it.’

  He made his apologies and departed shortly after. The girl went with him to the street door.

  Joe looked at McAllister balefully. ‘They’re all the same. They come whining and cringing around me now I have the gold. Nobody passed the time of day civilly with me before I had it.’

  ‘Joe,’ McAllister said, ‘I’ll give it to you blunt and fast while we don’t have anybody listening.’

  Joe went still, leaning forward and listening. ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Either they’ll squeeze the truth out of you here, Joe, or they’ll follow you to the mine. Either way, you’re dead.’ McAllister watched a number of emotions reflected on the old man’s face. Fear and alarm, scorn, rage, wariness.

  ‘You’re just trying to make me tell you,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t even tell the girl.’

  McAllister said: ‘Did Allison ask you where the gold is?’ Only wariness showed on the old face now. ‘You ain’t suspecting her, for crissakes?’

  ‘When it comes to gold, Joe, I suspect everybody. I’m asking one thing. If they threaten you and you reckon they mean it, you tell ’em, Joe. I have a feeling these men’ll stop at nothing. Just tell ’em and leave the rest to me. My word on it, they won’t get your gold.’

  The old man gave that some thought. He was impressed, that much was plain. The girl came back and stood looking slightly puzzled from one to the other of them.

  Joe said: ‘I’ll study on it, boy.’

  McAllister said he had to be going. When they reached the street door and the girl opened it, he looked down at her and gazed into those clear, honest blue eyes. To see such transparent truth gave him a strange feeling. He said: ‘Stay close, Miss
Allison. I think Joe may be in real danger. You suspect anything, you let me know.’

  She said: ‘I’ll do that, Sheriff. It’s a real comfort to know you’re around.’

  McAllister thought that was nicely put. He gave her his best smile and headed for the white picket gate.

  Back at his office, he got out the cot so that Charlie and he could take turns getting a sleep. Charlie thought this watching Joe’s house all night was taking security too damn far, but McAllister did not relent. It occurred to him, during the long watch of the night, his Navaho poncho around his shoulders against the cold, that a good time for the bandits to make a move against Joe would be while he, McAllister, was out of town with the gold. Mentally, he shrugged his shoulders. Not even he could be in two places at once. During the night it came on to rain and the water got inside his collar and ran down his back. There was nothing he disliked more, and he began to wonder if Charlie was not right and this business was getting ridiculous. Just the same, his old Indian foreboding was starting to haunt him.

  He was not in too good a mood when he went into the Chinese restaurant for breakfast. Charlie joined him and said: ‘Just looking at you tells me you don’t think this foolery a good idea no longer.’

  ‘We go on doing it just the same,’ McAllister said stubbornly.

  Charlie said: ‘They seem to know everything we do, so why don’t they know about us watching Joe’s place?’

  ‘Because we didn’t tell anybody,’ said McAllister. ‘Or did one of us?’ His eye on Charlie was terrible.

  Charlie shivered a little and said: ‘This one didn’t. I don’t know about that one.’

  Chapter Eleven

  All they gained from the watch was loss of sleep and an increase in irritability. McAllister called in at the bank and confirmed with Lindholm that he thought it was safe to withdraw extra guards from the stage when the gold was shipped out. The last of it, thank God, said McAllister.

  ‘You can say that again,’ said the banker. ‘I’ve had enough of the worry. Let somebody else take over. I and my man Stoppard are quite worn down with it all. No, no further need for extra guards, Sheriff.’