TWENTY-ONE
At his expression the blonde girl turned her head. When she saw the boxes Shanaghy thought for a moment she was going to cry. Then her face took on a hard, ugly look.
“The trouble with being a crook,” Shanaghy said mildly, “is that you have to associate with so many dishonest people.”
“Who did that?” McBride demanded. “How the devil-?” “Looks like you boys have been played for suckers,” Shanaghy continued. He turned to Josh. “You an’ Joel hogtie this lot, including the lady. If you take my advice you’ll watch her most of all.”
She kept glancing at the train, and clutching her handbag in her left hand. He reached over and took the handbag from her. She started to pull it away but he took it with a quick jerk. When he opened it he found a .44 Derringer. He showed it to Joel Strong and Josh. “Can’t be too careful,” he added. “What happened to that gold?” McBride demanded. “If it gets into the papers, you can read about it there,” Shanaghy said. He turned to Josh. “Take ‘em aboard now.”
“Where are we going?” Judge McBane asked from the doorway.
“Back to town,” he said. “I’ll speak to the engineer.” The train started to back up the track. Shanaghy walked forward to the express car. When he opened the door the express messenger shook his head. “Man, they had me running scared there, for a minute, with that shootin’ and all.” “Don’t let it worry you. I think it’s all over.” He glanced at the shipment, then walked back to the car where the prisoners rode. Despite their mild objections, McBane had moved the other passengers into the other coach, so they had the prisoners and themselves in the car alone. Josh had taken a seat at one end of the car facing the prisoners, and Joel Strong at the other. Two of the prisoners were seated together. McBride sat alone as did the girl.
Shanaghy was tired. He was feeling the letdown from days of thinking and worry. He paused by McBride. “Are you the one who shot an old prospector’s burro out by the water tank?”
McBride looked up. “You going to arrest me for that, too?” “No,” Shanaghy said. “I think with trying to steal the gold shipment and the murder of Holstrum, we’ve got enough on you. Then there’s the attack on Rig Barrett, resisting an officer and a good deal more. Take my advice, though. If you get a chance to escape, don’t take it.”
“What’s that mean?”
“That old man whose burro you killed. He’d like nothing better than to get a shot at you. And if you do escape I am not even going to look for you. He’ll take care of it.”
“That old blister? Hell, I should’ve shot him as well as his burro.”
“Well, you didn’t, and that’s a mighty hard old man. And he loved that burro.
He’s taking it mighty bad.”
Greenwood was at the station when the train backed in and he watched the prisoners get off. He also watched the body of George taken from the train. “Holstrum?” he asked.
“I think they killed him. They aren’t talking about him, so I’ll have to ride out that way and have a look. Anyway, he didn’t show up here.” Shanaghy himself helped unload the boxes containing the gold. “There it is, Greenie,” he said. “Now you can supply the money to pay off those cowhands.” Greenwood looked at the boxes and shook his head. “Tom, I’m damned if I know what to say. You’ve saved the town and our money, too, and mighty poor treatment you’ve had for it.”
“Fix me up with a room at the hotel again, and I’ll ask for nothing more.” “No problem. They all know who killed Carp now, and most of them are sorry for the way they acted.” He paused. “By the way, you’ve some friends in town ... at least they were asking for you.”
“Friends? I don’t know anybody in this part of the country.” Greenwood lit a cigar. “Don’t appear to be from around here. I’d say they were easterners. There’s four of them.”
Easterners? Who- Suddenly he remembered the letter from John Morrissey. He felt in his pockets for it, then opened it.
Dear Tom:
No need for you to come back unless you wish to. What you started when you left worked out fine and the Childers people are gone ... cleaned out. However, if I were in your boots I would keep a sharp eye out. The Childers are still around and you were the one they wanted most of all.
Lochlin is well, and sends regards.
My advice is stay west. You are too good a man for this, and you could make a place for yourself in that new country like I did when I landed in New York. The letter was signed with a flourish, John Morrissey.
Greenwood was watching him as he read. “What is it? Bad news?” Shanaghy folded the letter and put it in his pocket. The Childers family had come from someplace in the west or midwest, and so might know this country. Finding him would not be difficult, especially if they had somebody keeping an eye on Morrissey’s mail. This letter was probably written the same day Morrissey received his note. Even without that, there were only two rail lines into the west and this was the logical one.
“It could be trouble,” he admitted. “Those men you spoke of could be some old enemies, from New York.”
His eyes on the street, he explained, briefly. The thoroughfare was busy now, the people coming and going about their shopping, for this was a Saturday, always a big day in town.
“If it’s who I think it is,” Shanaghy said, “this is my affair. They are hunting me and nobody else.”
“You’re our town marshal,” Greenwood objected, gently. “And we don’t like outsiders meddling in our affairs.” He grinned. “Meaning no offense.” “You know,” Shanaghy said, “the only one of them I have any sympathy for is Holstrum. He had a dream. Maybe it was foolish, maybe not. Seems that was all he wanted from life.”
“We’ll miss Carp. He was a good man.”
“Aye,” Shanaghy was watching the hotel. Where were they? Did they know he was back in town? He looked around, taking his time. Judge McBane walked over. “We’ve locked up your prisoners. That young woman wants to talk to you.”
“All right.” He walked away, following Strong.
She had been locked in another storeroom at Holstrum’s, the place where he kept sacks of flour, sugar, and seed. It was a temporary place at best. She was sitting up when he came into the room, and she got quickly to her feet.
“Marshal, you can help me. I’ve got to get out of this!”
“What do you mean?”
“All this. I never intended ... I mean I never meant for this to happen! It’s
impossible! I mean, my family, my friends-“
“You should have thought of that before.”
“How could I? I never expected-“
“You never expected to get caught, is that it? You never expected to have to go to prison, to have a trial, to be in court as a person on trial for robbery and murder.”
“Murder?” she gasped. “You can’t believe I had anything to do with thatl” “You started it all, ma’am. You were the instigator, and as such you’re the most guilty of all. The truth of the matter is, ma’am, that nobody would commit a crime if they expected to get caught. Every criminal believes he is going to get away with it.”
“But I never did anything like this before! Marshal, it was my first offense, and believe me it will be my last. Doesn’t that count for anything?” “I will do as much for you as you will for Holstrum.”