The Fortune Hunters (14 page)

‘I reckon I do,’ Dusty said quietly, his left hand rubbing the butt of the rusted old Navy Colt in his waistband. ‘Let her up, Lon, then tend to Mark.’

Rising, Jennie came towards Dusty, her pale face working spasmodically as if she did not know whether to smile or cry at him. She halted a few feet away from him, stopped by the cold glow in his eyes. If Jennie had imagined her sex, or her grandfather’s hopes, would sway Dusty her way, she now saw there was no hope of it happening.

‘I—I didn’t want to hurt you, Dustine,’ she said.

‘Did you mean to hurt Marlene last night?’ he answered.

For a guess, and it was no more, the words made a meat-in-the-pot hit. Cold anger glowed in the girl’s eyes and an expression of hate twisted her face into something old and vicious, as mean as her grandfather always looked.

‘Yes!’ Jennie spat out. ‘I meant to hurt her. She ordered me to bed.
Me!
In Casa Thackery! She told me to go to bed as if she owned the house!’

Mark and the Kid looked at the girl, then exchanged glances. They wondered how Jennie managed to get into the locked room, and what made Dusty suspect the girl.

‘And you killed her,’ Dusty said quietly.

‘I killed her,’ Jennie agreed. ‘I went from my room and I watched her as she fought with Joan Shandley. It couldn’t have worked better if I’d planned it. When Joan beat Aunt Marlene unconscious I saw my chance. I slipped up and hit Joan with the chair leg and then used the knife I brought on Aunt Marlene. The blood splashed my hand and dress but I didn’t care. I knew how to take any suspicion from me.’

‘Sure,’ Dusty drawled. ‘Put Marlene’s ring on Joan’s finger, make sure everybody thought Joan killed Marlene and robbed her.’

‘Yes. Then she would be tried for Aunt Marlene’s murder and hanged for it.’

‘Why Joan, Jennie?’

‘She treated Grandfather like a saddle-tramp, humiliated him. I hated her. That was why we included her in the will. She was another one who wanted to take Casa Thackery from me, Dustine. They can’t do it. I won’t let them do it. Casa Thackery and everything Grandfather owns is mine. I had to fight for what belongs to me. Dustine, you must know how I feel.’

For a long moment Dusty did not reply. His eyes studied the girl’s face as if he had never seen it before. Then an involuntary shudder ran through him.

‘I don’t know, Jennie,’ he said. ‘And I hope to God I never do.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ONLY a couple of Mexican house servants saw the three Texans bring Jennie back to Casa Thackery. The cowhands, used to Borg’s absence in a morning, went out to carry on with their work, and the people at the house stayed inside. Waco had been given certain orders by Dusty and the youngster obeyed them to the letter.

Leaving Jennie in the Kid’s care, Dusty and Mark went to the house, using the kitchen. Dusty sent the cook to find the doctor and waited until Mark’s wound received proper care before putting the next part of his plan into operation.

‘You were lucky, Mark,’ the doctor stated. ‘That’s a nasty gash up there.’

‘Yeah, I reckoned it might be, Doc,’ Mark replied. ‘And don’t ask what happened, I hate lying.’

‘Got it cleaning your gun, huh?’

‘You might say that,’ grinned Mark. ‘Fact being, until after Dusty gives the word I’d take it kind if you did say it.’

‘I’ll go along with you,’ promised the doctor.

Dusty had been to see various people while Mark’s wound received attention and he now returned carrying a new shirt for the blond giant, collected from his warbag in the room.

‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘Come with me, Doc. Mark, go tell Lon to bring her along like we planned.’

Feeling puzzled, but interested, the doctor followed Dusty to the library. He found a good crowd gathered, which did not surprise Dusty who had arranged for them to be there. The sheriff sat scowling and wondering if he ought to have stood on his rights as senior law enforcement officer of the county and objected to Dusty ordering him to join the people in the room. Roughly the same thoughts ran through Claude Thackery’s head; he wondered if he should have asked Dusty by what right he gave orders in Casa Thackery. Joan Shandley sat stiffly in a chair by Mamie Thackery, after the old woman and Frankie helped her downstairs. The local undertaker had come along because he possessed an inquisitive nature and wanted to know what went on in the grim old walls of the house.

Silence fell on the room and every eye went to Dusty as he walked from the door to halt before the crowd. He stood at the side of the room, looking across it, glancing at the fireplace and the portrait on the wall.

‘Jennie’s not in her room, Dustine,’ Mamie said. ‘I don’t know where she is. Nobody’s seen her all morning.’

‘She knows what I’m going to tell you,’ Dusty truthfully replied.

‘What’s it all about, Dusty?’ Gaunt asked.

‘Sheriff,’ Dusty said, ignoring the question. ‘You never checked on that body in the ravine, did you?’

‘Shucks, everybody could see it was Elmo,’ Topham replied.

‘He the only white haired old man around here?’

‘Naw. Course he ain’t, Cap’n. There’s old Bill Turner—’

‘Ain’t seen old Bill around for some weeks now,’ the doctor interrupted Topham to announce. ‘Been by his place three times and he wasn’t there.’

‘Hell, Doc!’ snorted Topham. ‘You know old Bill takes off prospecting every once in a while. Anyways, that couldn’t’ve been Bill. Them two cowhands who found the body said it was wearing the same clothes they’d seen Elmo in not an hour afore they found him.’

‘What’re your questions leading to, Dusty?’ Gaunt put in.

‘That feller in the ravine,’ Dusty answered. ‘He was shot in the back before he went over.’

The words created something of a sensation. Talk welled up among the occupants of the room and was silenced by an angry gesture from Topham who came to his feet.

‘Now just a doggoned minute. I been out there and looked down into the ravine. Me ‘n’ my deputies. We couldn’t see no sign of a bullet wound. And them two cowhands who found Elmo who close enough to have heard a shot.’

‘But you never went into the ravine and looked real close, did you, sheriff?’ asked Dusty.

‘Naw. Hell, you seen that place. What with it being an accident, and that bit about leaving him lie if he died someplace like that ravine, and all, we didn’t see the sense of risking men’s lives to go down there. Elmo was for sure dead and it wouldn’t fetch him back to life if somebody else got killed too. So we got the preacher to say words over him and left him where he fell.’

‘And a killer was left to do more killing,’ Dusty snapped. ‘Three people have died, and another one nearly got killed, all because you didn’t check.’

‘I assume some of the responsibility for that, Dusty,’ Gaunt remarked.

‘If it comes to that, I said we should give Elmo his dying request,’ Mamie went on. ‘Three— You said three people died. Is Jennie—’

‘I didn’t count her,’ Dusty answered, choosing his words carefully. ‘We, Mark, Lon and I, went out there today. While Mark was lowering me into the ravine, somebody took a shot at us.’

‘Who?’ Gaunt asked, wondering why Dusty spoke much louder than usual and put extra clarity into his words as if he wanted them to carry some distance.

‘Jennie.’

‘Jennie!’ At least four voices repeated the word Dusty spoke.

‘Is she dead?’ gasped Mamie.

‘When the Kid heard the shot, he turned, saw a movement in the bushes and started throwing lead—from his rifle.’

The last three words gave a special significance to the listeners, for all knew of the Kid’s amazing skill with a rifle. Once more silence dropped on the room and Dusty waited to see if the bait would draw the killer into his trap. For almost thirty seconds nothing happened.

‘Is she d—’ Thackery finally said.

Even as the lawyer spoke, a sound drew every eye to the fireplace. Its back swung open and, as Dusty hoped would happen, the killer of Casa Thackery burst into the room—but Dusty’s plan only partially worked.

‘Elmo!’ Mamie screamed and collapsed back in her chair looking as if she was seeing a ghost.

‘Father!’ Claude screeched, looking as if he had seen something worse than a ghost; such as the ownership of Casa Thackery departing from his grasp.

Dusty did not speak or move. The old Walker Colt in Elmo Thackery’s right hand lined full on Frankie’s breast and the shotgun gripped on the old man’s claw-like left hand pointed down to the floor.

‘Sit still, all of you!’ he snarled. ‘The gal gets it if you move.’

While Dusty expected Thackery to be listening to the meeting and to make his appearance on hearing of Jennie’s ‘death’, the small Texan had also expected the man to be so shocked at the news that he would not be able to think straight. The gun in Thackery’s hand showed that Dusty had guessed only partly right.

‘Who is that in the ravine, if you’re alive!’ Gaunt asked.

‘Old Bill Turner,’ Thackery answered. ‘Doing something useful for once in his life. Where’s the Kid. Did he kill my Jennie?’

‘Look at the door,’ Dusty, to whom the words had been directed, replied.

Jennie came in, the Kid’s hand on her arm. On seeing her grandfather, the girl jerked herself free and ran to his side. She did not pass before him or in any way interfere with his keeping Frankie covered.

‘Get the scatter, little gal!’ Thackery ordered. ‘Stand easy all of you.’

‘Drop the gun and give it up, Elmo,’ Dusty ordered. ‘You’ll never get away from here.’

‘Maybe we don’t aim to,’ Thackery replied. ‘Call Mark Counter in here.’

‘He’s in the hall, Grandfather!’ Jennie put in, holding the shotgun with easy familiarity.

‘Call him in, Dustine!’ Thackery said and gestured towards Frankie. ‘And he best come empty handed.’

‘Come in with your hands empty, Mark!’ Dusty called.

Holstering his right side Colt, Mark entered the library, his hands held clear of the gun butts. He looked around him, to where Waco stood at the far side of the room, the Kid at the left of the door, Dusty standing before the people who all stared in amazement and horror at Jennie and Elmo Thackery.

‘I don’t reckon he’d kill Frankie,’ Mark said quietly.

‘Don’t try him,’ Dusty answered. ‘He tried last night, with the rattler.’

‘It’d’ve worked too,’ Thackery spat out. ‘It did when I tried it out afore on that greaser gal servant.’

‘You did better on Borg,’ Dusty admitted. ‘Only it didn’t look like suicide, Elmo. You should have held the gun to one side, instead of right behind his head.’

‘Yeah,’ grunted Thackery. ‘I should have. Only he sat up on the bed just after I come out of the cupboard with his gun in his hand and I couldn’t risk him turning and seeing me. So I shot him and he fell forward off the bed. I thought it’d only be Topham there investigating and he’d fall for it. Should have knowed you’d butt in, Dustine. You’re nosey, just like your Uncle Devil.’

‘What do we do about them, Grandfather?’ Jennie asked.

‘Nothing yet. How long you known about me, Dustine, and who’ve you told?’

‘I’ve not told anybody. But I suspected you when I saw the rattler,’ Dusty answered, watching for a chance to break the deadlock without getting Frankie hurt. ‘That’s when I started thinking about you being alive, Elmo. I was suspicious as soon as I heard about the hit at Joan in Newton. That attack on us in the Nations made me more sure. Knowing you, there wouldn’t be many saw your will. I didn’t even think Aunt Mamie had. So it left Frank, and I trusted him, and Jennie. She was sure to know about your will. Why ask Uncle Devil to have us gather the folks?’

‘To show folks how keen I was to get them here. Sending the famous Dusty Fog, Mark Counter and the Ysabel Kid after them. Only it’d be just too bad happen they all got killed when a bunch of raiders hit Dusty Fog’s camp to try to steal his trail drive money. I reckon I handled it real well.’

‘You overdid it, like everything else,’ Dusty drawled. ‘There was too much happened just right. Like your death coming just when we’d be either in or real close to Mulrooney. You’d seen our trail herd passing north—’

‘Sure I had. I’d planned all this earlier though. Couldn’t’ve worked out better, you making for the railroad and all them four being within easy reach.’

‘I still say you overdid it. That piece in your will about leaving your body lie where it fall, it didn’t have any real point unless the body went into a place where folks’d think twice about trying to recover it. You knew Mamie and Frank would respect your last wishes, and that Topham wasn’t going to push it too hard at inspecting the body when he saw the risks involved. So nobody’d know it wasn’t Elmo Thackery lying out there.’

‘That’s right,’ Thackery answered, his eyes gloating at the thought of his brilliant plan. He could not prevent himself boasting, telling everything. ‘Turner came to see me. I sent for him, the night afore and Jennie dropped him. We dressed him in my clothes, some like I was wearing when those cowhands saw me, and took him out to the ravine, tossed him over. Next day I rode up there, turned my hoss loose after I made him rear at the edge, and hid out in the bushes. Come back here and got hid in the priest’s hole behind the fireplace that night. There’s secret passages all round this house, only me ‘n’ Jennie knowed ‘em.’

‘I guessed about them, even though Jennie lied about there being any,’ Dusty told the old man, hoping the gun would waver, but it did not. ‘You used the one that came out in the cupboard in our room when you went to put the snake in Frankie’s bed. That’s why Jennie was so all-fired eager to keep us downstairs. I nearly caught you at it, didn’t I?’

‘And I saved your life, Dustine,’ Jennie put in. ‘What do we do about them, Grandfather?’

‘I know why you wanted Claude and Marlene dead,’ Dusty put in, before the old man could reply. ‘You was scared they’d contest your will and take some of the land or money from Jennie. And you aimed to get rid of the only other two, Mamie and Frankie, who had any legal claim. But why Borg?’

‘He got drunk one night. Told me it was his father who put me where I am today. That he ought to marry Jennie so that he could get hands on my money. I should have killed him then. But I didn’t. I let him live long enough to think he had a share in my money. Then I killed him.’

‘Why me?’ Joan asked.

‘You?’ Jennie spat out. ‘You thought my Grandfather was an old bag-line bum and you bought him a meal as if he was a tramp. That’s why.’

‘I didn’t want you to get here,’ Thackery went on. ‘So I fixed it with a feller. I know to have a pair of gunnies follow you when he heard about my death, and not to kill you until you knew about the money I’d left you. I wanted you to know it wasn’t a bag-line bum you’d helped. Last night, I thought you and Marlene was going to kill each other. But you didn’t, Jennie here fixed it neat so you’d be blamed after she killed Marlene.’

‘You killed her!’ Claude screamed and started to rise.

The shotgun in Jennie’s hand boomed, its charge slamming into Claude’s chest and hurling him back across the room, smashing the chair beneath him. Frankie screamed, but kept her seat; nor did the Walker Colt’s muzzle waver from line on the girl’s body, so Dusty did not have a chance to make a move.

‘He won’t take Casa Thackery from us now, Grandfather,’ Jennie said, her lips twisting into a mirthless smile that went well with the mad gleam in her eyes.

‘Keep still, all of you!’ Thackery warned. ‘And I reckon you boys had best shed your gunbelts.’

Slowly Joan Shandley moved her right hand into the mouth of the vanity bag she had carried with her all morning and which now rested on her knees. Inside it lay a Remington Double Derringer, an item most saloongirls carried on their persons when working in wild wide-open towns. She had packed the Derringer with her other belongings when she left Newton, never expecting to need it. The incidents since her arrival at Casa Thackery had caused her to unpack the gun again and hide it in the bag. Now it seemed she might have use for the gun.

Looking towards Dusty, Joan saw the indecision on his face. He, and every man in the room, knew that the moment they dropped their guns they would be dead men. Thackery and his granddaughter were crazy enough to try to kill every person in the room.

‘You sent men to kill me?’ Joan asked and saw Thackery’s mean, evilly glinting eyes turn towards her.

‘Had it done. Same feller as fixed with them raiders to hit at you done it for me,’ Thackery replied. ‘And I ain’t askin’—’

‘Beegee Benson died, not me!’ Joan said bitterly.

Flame spurted from the bag. Joan was a poor shot, never having practised with the gun. So her bullet missed Thackery—and struck Jennie in the left breast. The impact spun Jennie around and pain caused her to squeeze the shotgun’s second trigger. Its lethal charge smashed into the wall within inches of the Ysabel Kid’s side.
Ka-Dih
appeared to be watching over Long Walker’s grandson that day.