Other men crowded into the carriage, among them two huskies, and the Kid at once became alert.
The carriage swung into one of the dark streets, then turned into a cross street between high, unlighted buildings. One of the huskies reached up and took down the Palace Hotel sign. The other one looked at the Kid and grinned.
“Pull up!” Starrett ordered. “This is far enough!”
The Cactus Kid left his seat with a lunge, springing to neither right nor left as they probably expected, but straight ahead. He landed astride the nearest horse and with a wild Texas yell kicked with both heels. All four of the frightened animals lunged into their collars and took off down the cobbled street with men shouting and grabbing for holds behind them.
Slipping from the back of the horse to the tongue, the Kid worked his way forward to the lead team. The driver was trying to fight the horses to a stand, but the Kid reached and grabbed the reins. With a vicious jerk, he pulled them loose, and the driver, over-balanced, fell from his seat to the cobblestoned street. The horses picked up speed and ran wild, eyes rolling, jaws slavering.
The Cactus Kid heard the crack of a pistol and a shot went by his ear. Gripping the hip strap with his left hand, which also clutched the carpetbag, the Kid took a chance shot under his arm. Several of the riders had dropped from the rig but the others made a solid block that could scarcely be missed.
A
YELP OF pain sounded behind him and several men sprang from the carriage. Shoving the pistol into his waistband, the Kid swung astride the off lead horse and hauled desperately on the reins. As the carriage slowed he slid from the animal's back to the street. He scrambled up and ducked into an alley.
Someone yelled from the carriage as it rattled by, and a dark figure loomed in the alley and shouted a reply, then started for him. The Cactus Kid palmed his six-shooter and fired. The charging man fell on his face and the Kid wheeled and ran.
He ducked in and out of alleys until he was winded. Then a door showed suddenly, and he tried the knob. Miraculously, it was not locked and he stepped in, closing and barring it behind him. Feeling his way up dark stairs he knew from the faint sounds of tinny music that he was in a building that housed some kind of resort.
On the second floor landing he tried a door, but it was locked so he went on to the third floor. A door opened into a hallway with doors on either side. Swiftly, the Kid hurried down the hall to the head of another flight of stairs. A beefy man with a red face and a walrus mustache stood there.
“Hey!” he demanded roughly. “Who'd you come up with?”
“I came up the back stairs,” the Cactus Kid replied, “and I'm going down the front stairs.”
“Yeah?” His eyes traveled over the Kid from the broad hat to the carpetbag. “Yeah? Well, we'll talk to Bull Run first.”
“Who's Bull Run?”
“Bull Run?” The thug was incredulous. “You ain't heard of Bull Run Allen?”
Something turned over inside the Cactus Kid. He had heard many cowhands and others talk of the
BULL RUN
, at the corner of Pacific Street and Sullivan Alley. It was one of the toughest and most criminal dives in a town that could boast of many of the worst in the world. He could not have found his way into a worse trap.
“No need to talk to him,” he said. “All I want is to go through. Hereâ” he took a coin from his pocketâ“say nothing to anybody. I had some trouble back in the street. Had to slug a gent.”
The thug looked avariciously at the money. “Well, I guess it ain't none of myâ” His voice broke and he gulped.
The Cactus Kid turned and found himself facing an elephant of a man in a snow-white, ruffled shirt with diamond studs. His big nose was a violent red, his huge hands glittered with gems.
“Who's this?” he demanded harshly. “What's goin' on?”
The thug swallowed. “It's this way, Bull Run,” he began to explain. As he talked Allen nodded and studied the Kid. Finally he dropped a huge hand to the Kid's shoulder.
“Put away your money, son,” he said genially, “and come wit' me. In trouble, are you? Couldn't have come to a better place. Law doesn't bother my place. I tell 'em you work for me an' it's all right. Let's go to my office.”
Seating himself behind a huge desk, he grinned at the Kid. “Cattleman, hey? Used to figure I'd like that line my own self, but I got tied to this joint and couldn't get away. But I make plenty.”
He bit the end from a black cigar and leaned forward, his smile fading. “All right, you got away with something good. Just split it down the middle and you can goâand you'll not be bothered.”
“You've got me wrong, Allen,” the Kid protested. “I've nothing of value. They fired me back on the ranch so I figured I'd come to town. Lost all I had, about fifteen bucks, to some gamblers on a boat. I slugged one of them an' got part of my money back, but they'd already divvied up.”
Bull Run Allen scowled. “Describe the gamblers,” he ordered.
At the Kid's description his eyes narrowed. “I know 'em. That gent who called himself Harper was Banker Barber, one of the slickest around here. StarrettâI can't figure that play. Starrett works society. He only plays for big money.”
S
USPICION WAS ALIVE in his eyes as he studied the Kid. Seeing it, the Cactus Kid gambled. “Say, maybe that explains it! They were hunting somebody else an' got me by mistake! They seemed to think I had money, tried to get me to bet higher. Shucks,” the Kid smiled innocently, “I've never had more'n a hundred and twenty dollars at one time!”
Bull Run Allen was not convinced. He wanted a look inside that carpetbag. On the other hand this youngster might be telling the truth and while they talked a rich prize might be getting away.
Bull Run stepped to the door and yelled to a man to send up One-Ear Tim. The manager and bouncer was a burly character with one ear missing and a scarred face.
“Get hold o' the Banker,” Bull Run ordered. “I want a talk with him.” He grinned at the Kid as Tim walked away. “Now we'll find out about this here.”
The Cactus Kid got to his feet. “Sorry I won't have time to wait,” he said. “I'm heading for the Palace Hotel. You can see me there.”
Allen gave vent to a fat chuckle of amusement. “Don't think I couldn't,” he said, “but you sit still. We'll talk to the Banker first.”
“No,” the Kid replied quietly, “I can't wait.” In his hand he held a .44 Colt. “You come with me, Bull Run. Only you go first.”
Allen's eyes grew ugly. “You can't get away with this!” he sneered. “I ain't goin' nowheres, so go ahead an' shoot. No durned kid canâ” he lunged, both hands spread wide.
The Cactus Kid was in his element. He struck down Allen's reaching left and smashed the barrel of his Colt over the big man's ear, and Allen hit the floor as if dropped from a roof. Quickly, the Kid stepped outside to the balcony. Still clutching the carpetbag with his left hand, his right hovering near the butt of his .44, he walked down the stairs to the brawling room below, crowded with gamblers and drinkers.
Almost at the door he ran into Tim. The bouncer stopped him. “Where you goin'? The boss wanted you to talk to the Banker.”
“He wanted the Banker himself,” the Kid said shortly. “Hurry it up, he's already sore.”
Tim stared hard at him, but stepped aside, and the Kid walked out into the dark street. Turning left he walked swiftly for a dozen steps then crossed the street and ducked into a dark alley. A few minutes later he arrived at the Palace Hotel.
I
T WAS BROAD day when he awakened. While he bathed and shaved, he thought about his situation. Whoever had tipped the Banker and Starrett to the fact that he carried money must have been close to MacIntosh.
Two attempts had been made to get the money from him and it was likely that two groups now searched for him, only now both groups not only wanted the money but to kill him as well. Allen would not take that pistol blow without retaliation. He dared notânot in this town.
In a town where a man could be murdered for a drink, where it was the proud boast of many that “anything goes,” daylight would not end the search for him. Allen had not been boasting when he said his reach included the Palace. So, figure it this way: Bull Run Allen knew where he was. He would know within a matter of minutes of the time the Kid left the hotel. Even in such a fine place as the Palace was, men could be found who would give information for money.
The Kid's safest bet was to get word to MacIntosh that he had the money, then make contact somewhere away from his business office, which might be watched. He checked his guns and returned them, fully loaded, to their places and walked into the hallway, carrying the bag.
A man in a brown suit sat at the end of the hall. He glanced up when the Kid stepped out, then, apparently unconcerned, went back to his paper and turned a page.
The Cactus Kid walked briskly along the hall. Around the corner, he sprinted to the far end and ducked down the back stairs, taking the first flight in about three jumps. Walking the rest of the way more slowly, he stepped out of the back door when the janitor's back was turned. Entering the back door of another building he walked on through to the street and boarded a horse car.
A roughly dressed man loitered in front of the building where Macintosh had his office, and when the Kid got down from the car the fellow turned and started down the street, almost at a run. The Kid grinned and walked into the building and down the hall to the office door. MacIntosh's name was on the door but he hesitated. If they were waiting for him elsewhere they might also have men planted here. Glancing around, he spotted a door marked
Private
. Taking a chance he opened it and stepped inside.
A big-shouldered man with a shock of white hair and a white, carefully trimmed beard looked up. He was about to speak when the outer door opened and a girl stepped in. Her eyes went wide when she saw the Kid and she stepped back hastily.
“Lily,” he exclaimed, and started forward.
Before he could get halfway across the room that door opened again and Banker Barber stepped in. His jaw was hard and his eyes cold. He held a gun in his hand. He motioned toward the carpetbag. “I'll take that!” he said sharply. “Drop it on the floor and step back!”
The Kid knew from his eyes that the Banker would shoot. He also guessed he was more anxious to get the money than revenge and would not shoot in this building unless necessary. The Kid dropped the bag reluctantly and moved back. The Banker took a quick step forward and grasped the handle. Backing away, he unsnapped the top and thrust his hand inside. Keeping his eyes on the two men he drew out a thick sheaf and glancing quickly, his eyes came up, hard with triumph. Dropping the packet back into the bag he snapped it shut.
“Thanks!” he said grimly. “It was worth the trouble!”
“Be careful that Bull Run doesn't take that away from you,” the Cactus Kid advised. “He has this place watched and he knew I came here.”
“Don't worry!” the Banker replied grimly. “He won't get this! Nobody,” he added, “gets this but me.” He backed to the door and opened it. “I'd like to know who taught you to bottom deal. You're good!” He stepped back through the door. “And don't try to follow me or I'll kill you.”
He jerked the door shut. There was a thud, a grunt, and something heavy slid along the door. Then there were running footsteps. Outside in the street there was a shout, a shot, then more running feet.
M
ACINTOSH LEANED BACK in his chair. “Well,” he said testily, “I'm not taking the loss! The money was still in your possession! I'm sorry for Jim Wise, but he still owes me fifteen thousand dollars!”
With a cheerful smile the Cactus Kid went to the door and pulled it open. The body of Banker Barber fell into the room. His skull was bloody from the blow that had felled him, but he was still alive.
“Down in the street,” the Kid said, “somebody was just shot. I'm betting it was Starrett. And in a few minutes Bull Run Allen will be cussing a blue streak!”
“He got the money,” Macintosh said sourly, “so why should he cuss?”
The Cactus Kid grinned broadly. From his inside coat pocket he drew an envelope and took from it a slip of paper. He handed it to Macintosh. “A bank draft,” the Kid said complacently, “for fifteen thousand dollars! This morning after I slipped away from them, I went to the Wells Fargo and deposited the money with them. Now make out the receipt and I'll make this right over to you.”
Old Macintosh chuckled. “Fooled 'em, did you? I might have known anybody old Jim Wise would send with that much money would be smart enough to take care of it. What was in the bag?”
“Some packets of carefully trimmed green paper topped with one dollar bills,” he said, grinning. “It cost me a few bucks, but it was worth it.”
Macintosh chuckled, his eyes lively with humor. “I'd like to see Bull Run's face when he opens that carpetbag! He fancies himself a smart one!” Then he sobered. “You called that girl by name. You know her?”
“She was with them on the boat,” the Kid explained. “She even got into the poker game when they tried to rook me. She's good, too,” he added, “but she must have been the one who tipped them off. It had to be somebody who knew I'd be carrying money. Who is she?”
“She's been working for me!” MacIntosh said angrily. “Working until just now. I never did put no truck in women folks workin' around offices but she convinced me she could help me and she didn't cost me no more'n a third what a man cost!”
“With a woman,” the Cactus Kid said, “it ain't the original cost. It's the upkeep!”