Sudden--Troubleshooter (A Sudden Western) #5 (23 page)

An angry sound rose from
the massed spectators. Appleby’s words had cleverly played upon
their loyalty, for among the townspeople he had a reputation for
square dealing that had always been to their liking.

‘Yu lose yore bet,
Appleby!’ boomed a voice from the back of the room. The Marshal
whirled to face the direction from which the voice had come, his
hand flying to the gun at his side. His hand closed on empty air,
and he turned to see Sudden holding the weapon leveled at his
chest.

‘Seen a ghost, Marshal?’
gritted Sudden. Indeed, Appleby’s face was ghastly enough to have
convinced any onlooker that such was the case, and in truth the man
was shaken by the sight which caused every man in the room to rise
to his feet.

‘
My Gawd, it’s Lafe
Gunnison!’ shouted one spectator, unable to repress his
astonishment any longer.

‘Yeah,’ said another.
‘What’s left o’ him.’

The old rancher looked like
a man at death’s door as he limped down the aisle between the
chairs. Supporting his huge bulk by means of one of his arms over
their shoulders were Susan Harris and Philadelphia, his face
slightly grey under his tan. Gunnison’s huge frame was wasted, and
his formerly iron-grey hair had turned completely white. His face
was marked by bruises and abrasions, and etched deep into his
expression were the lines of pain and suffering. He lurched into
the open space in front of the bench, spurning further help from
Philadelphia and Susan, and came to a stop before his trembling
son, who cowered before his father’s accusing finger.

‘There’s yore killer: my
own son!’

A cry of rage arose from
the spectators, who completely ignored the insistent pounding of
Bleke’s gavel as they grabbed Randy Gunnison with none-too-gentle
hands and stripped him of his hideaway gun, two men on each arm
holding him prisoner as immutably as if he were chained to
rock.

‘Yes, my own son tried to
kill me. Damn near succeeded, too! He must have thought I was
cashed, shore. Whoever tossed me in that dry wash up in the
Mesquites didn’t even look to see if I was dead. I woke up with
buzzards flapping around me. Laid there all day in the open.
Finally, I managed to crawl to water. I must’ve passed out. I
crawled a lot. All I knowed was it was downhill. Next thing I knew
I was in a bed in the Harris place, with these two youngsters
tendin’ my wounds. When I regained consciousness they told me what
had happened.’ A dry cough racked his frame, and fresh redness
stained the bandages around his chest. ‘It … it’s a lot worse than
it looks,’ he managed, trying to smile. He turned to his son, pain
in every line of his face. ‘I know yu never loved me,’ he gasped.
‘But why did yu try to kill me?’

Randolph Gunnison tried to
wrench away from his captors, tried insanely to escape the
accusation in his father’s staring eyes. His captors held him
immovably.

Spittle formed at the
corners of his mouth, and his eyes rolled madly. ‘I had to!’ he
screamed ‘I had to! You kept asking and asking how I knew you
hadn’t hired Cameron. I was scared you’d guess it was
Appleby’

‘Shut up, yu damned fool!’
the Marshal roared in an agonized voice. ‘Shut yore stupid
mouth!’

‘Take a mite o’ your own
advice, Marshal,’ a cold voice warned him, and the lawman subsided
as Sudden gestured minutely with the gun.

‘He’s been holding me to
ransom ever since he came here!’ Randy Gunnison was raving. ‘I got
into trouble in Santa Fe … cards. A woman. There was a shooting … I
… ran. He followed me. Told me he could get me hung … had to do
what he said. He said … if I did … he’d make me rich.’

‘Rich?’ coughed Gunnison.
‘How did he aim to make yu richer than I could?’ He reeled
slightly, as though about to fall, and Sudden, thrusting the gun
into the hands of a bystander with terse instructions to shoot
Appleby if he moved an eyebrow, moved to support the old man. He
lowered him gently to a chair, while Randy Gunnison continued to
speak as though some trigger had been tripped in his mind and
nothing could stop the flow of words.

‘He knew about … loot from
robberies … the Jefferson gang … all hidden under a cabin, up in
the Mesquites. Two hundred thousand dollars. Under one of the
nester’s shacks.’

‘So he had to clear the
nesters out afore he could look for the money,’ Sudden prompted the
younger Gunnison.

A cackling laugh made him turn his head.
Weak though he was, the old man was chortling in amusement.

‘He believed that ol’
fairy-tale?’ He coughed, pain wracking his face. ‘Hell, boy, there
ain’t no money up there! Never was.’

Appleby made as if to step
forward, and immediately heavy hands restrained him forcefully. He
writhed in the grasp of his captors and spat, ‘Yo’re lyin’! I know
there’s money up there!’ He stopped, a crafty look crossing his
face.

Sudden twined to face him.
‘Yu were sayin’ …?’ he prompted.

‘I’ll see yu in hell,’
cursed the Marshal.

‘More’n likely,’ agreed
Sudden equably. ‘Yo’re right, Marshal. There was money up there. It
was under Reb Johnstone’s shack, and the total amount was … how
much was it, Mr. Granger?’

‘Two hundred and twenty
three thousand, six hundred and forty dollars, sir,’ announced the
banker, enjoying the gasps of astonishment that the figures caused.
Not a few of the men in the saloon looked at the struggling Appleby
with sympathy for the first time since Gunnison had made his
astounding entrance. The banker handed Sudden a large satchel,
which the cowboy took across to Appleby.

‘This has been in the bank
since the day yu killed Cameron,’ he said. ‘This is what yu lied
for an’ murdered for, Marshal.’ He emptied the satchel on the
floor. Men craned their necks, jostled and shoved to catch a
glimpse of the cascade of paper which Sudden emptied at Appleby’s
feet.

“Take a look at it!’
Sudden’s voice was a harsh command, and he snatched up a fistful of
the money and thrust it under Appleby’s nose. ‘Take a good look,
Appleby. Do yu know what the Jefferson boys stole? They robbed a
train loaded with Confederate money that was being taken to
Washington to be burned. Two hundred and twenty three thousand
dollars – an’ not worth the paper they’re printed on.

‘No …’ Appleby’s face was
grey. ‘No. Yo’re lyin’, yo’re lyin’, yo’re lyin’!’ His voice was a
thin scream.

Randolph Gunnison, too, had been stricken by
the revelation. He slumped now in the arms of the men who held him,
weeping like a child. An astonished clatter of conversation filled
the courtroom. Jake Harris pushed forward to ask his employee a
question.

‘Shucks, that was easy,
seh,’ Green told him. ‘I just checked the land office maps for
‘sixty-six, which was when they caught the Jefferson boys. They
only showed one cabin up in the Mesquites. Location was nigh on the
same as Johnstone’s. After that, it was only a matter o’ diggin’ it
up.’

Now it was Lafe Gunnison’s
turn to speak. He got slowly to his feet and approached the bar,
behind which Governor Bleke sat, his grey eyes not missing a
movement in the room.

‘Yo’re Bleke,’ Gunnison
said softly.

‘Yes, Gunnison. I’m
Bleke.’

‘It took yu long enough to
get up here.’

Bleke smiled. ‘Oh, no,’ he
told the old rancher. ‘I’ve been here some considerable time. Not
in person, of course. But when I got your first letter I sent my
special deputy.’

Appleby overheard this exchange and looked
from Bleke to Gunnison in utter confusion.

‘He wrote to yu … about the
Yavapai valley?’

Bleke nodded. ‘You were
nothing like as subtle as you seem to think you were, Appleby.
Green spotted you very quickly.’

‘Green?’ cried the lawman
hoarsely. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’

‘Everything,’ Bleke told
him, his voice cutting. ‘Green is my special deputy. He has been
acting on my orders throughout.’

Jake Harris stepped
forward, his eyes shining and his hand out-thrust. ‘I never thought
I’d live to see the day I’d want to shake yore hand, Gunnison, but
by God! I aim to do her now! If yu wrote to Governor Bleke askin’
for help, that’s all the proof I need that we can get along in the
future.’

The two men shook hands warmly as a sullen
rumble of thunder rattled the windows lightly and the sunlight
outside turned a faintly darker shade of amber.

‘Storm buildin’ up in the
Yavapais,’ muttered Shorty Willis.

‘It’s the time o’ year for
them,’ another old-timer agreed.

Meanwhile, Bleke was
beckoning to Gunnison and Sudden. His words stilled the hum of
conversation which had arisen. ‘There is one final point to be
cleared up, gentlemen. Who was behind all these raids on the
property of the homesteaders?’

‘Well, Appleby was the
brains, o’ course,’ Sudden said. ‘But his orders was carried out
by?’

‘Stand damn still, every
last one o’ yu!’ The command came from the grimly compressed lips
of Jim Dancy, who had, as Sudden had started to indict him, leaped
backwards towards the door of the saloon, clear of the clustered
watchers of the drama in the court. A wicked sawn-off shotgun lay
across his forearm, cocked and murderous.

‘Don’t nobody even blink,’
he warned the silent crowd, ‘or I’ll spread this crowd around
some.’ He moved forward two steps and those nearest to him shrank
backwards, away from the gaping muzzles of the shotgun. ‘Clear a
way, damn yore eyes!’ grated the Saber foreman. ‘Yu’ – he gestured
with the gun towards Appleby’s captors – ‘turn him loose!’ The men
holding the Marshal’s arms complied hastily, and Appleby scuttled
around until he was beside his companion in crime, dragging Susan
Harris back with him, protecting his body with hers. He lifted a
six-shooter from the holster of the nearest spectator, his face lit
with a hellion’s smile. Sudden, unarmed, watched helplessly as
Randy Gunnison wailed plaintively, ‘Dancy! What about
me?’

‘Stay an’ hang, yu
spineless Jessy!’ rasped Dancy.

Appleby was close to the
door, gun cocked. His teeth shone whitely as he smiled wolfishly
behind Dancy. ‘One last thing,’ he hissed. ‘For yu, Sudden!’ He
raised the gun and fired, all in one movement, but the shot was
hasty. Sudden felt the cold breath of the bullet on his temple,
heard a grasping groan behind him from Randy Gunnison. The son of
the Saber owner slumped to the floor, blood pumping from a wound
near his heart.

Appleby had not waited to
see the result of his shot; he was already through the door,
dragging the struggling Susan Harris along with him. The batwings
swung inwards as Dancy backed towards them and caught the burly
Saber foreman on his shoulder, upsetting his balance for a fraction
of a second. In that moment young Philadelphia moved, his gun
belched flame. The bullet spun Dancy backwards out through the
doors, the shotgun pellets blasting harmlessly into the ceiling.
Dancy fell dead in the street outside as Sudden, scooping his gun
belt out of the old jailer’s unresisting hands, dashed into the
open in time to see Appleby thundering out of
town towards the north, the girl slung half-conscious across
his saddle in front of him.

Men spewed out of the
saloon and one or two were about to fire after the fleeing lawman
until Jake Harris stopped them with a sharp word; even if they were
lucky enough to hit the fast-disappearing figure of Appleby, there
was too much danger that Susan might also be hurt. Sudden was
already in the saddle of the first horse he had found at the
hitching-rail, and by the time others had followed his example he
was out of the environs of the town and heading in pursuit of the
fugitive lawman.

Over the prairies an evil
yellow murk had descended. The Yavapais were already disappearing
into slate-colored cloud, and lightning flickered once or
twice.

‘Goin’ to be a real one
when she comes,’ muttered Sudden, his eyes intent upon the dot on
the open plain ahead which was Appleby. He cast a quick glance
behind him. The rest of the pursuers were strung out in an uneven
line, about two hundred yards to the rear. Off to his right he saw
a lone horseman thundering eastwards, heading for the low hills
lining the horizon, and wondered vaguely who it was. The first
heavy spots of rain dashed against his face as he spurred the
animal beneath him to ever greater speed. Slowly he drew nearer to
his prey, pounding now along the trail towards the
Mesquites.

‘Runnin’ scared an’ runnin’
blind,’ was Sudden’s first thought, but then he realized that such
was not the case at all. Appleby was heading for the Badlands, the
rough, flint-covered edging to the desert. ‘If he gets in there
I’ll lose him shore,’ he told himself, renewing his efforts to coax
even more speed from the horse, wishing as he did so that he had
hat time to find Midnight, who would have run down with ease the
double-laden animal Appleby was riding. Crooning to the horse,
Sudden peered ahead into the murk. He was gaining on Appleby. The
lawman was now only about five hundred yards ahead, and veering
eastwards off the trail towards the Badlands. The rain was becoming
heavier now; it splattered wickedly into Green’s eyes as he raced
on.

‘Ain’t any better for him,’
he consoled himself. ‘Worse, probably … tryin’ to cope with the
girl as well.’