The Sunshine Killers (3 page)

Saulter nodded. He was about finished eating.

“You don't talk much, do you?”

“It hurts to talk,” Saulter said lowly.

“Ah,” Billy said. “Your ribs. Must have one busted. How about a good laugh? Reckon that'd feel good? What if I was to tell you some real funny jokes?”

Saulter smiled faintly. He knew that Billy was being friendly for a purpose. He just wished he'd get on with whatever it was he'd come over to say.

“Heard you to say you was a hunter. Reckon what kind?”

“Contract,” Saulter said in a hoarse whisper. “I was a contract hunter for the railroads they're building.”

“Railroads?” Billy looked startled. He glanced over at the table where the men were sitting, watching and listening. “The continental hookup? I thought they was a good little piece from here.”

“They're getting closer,” Saulter said. He pushed back his plate and then picked up the stump of the cigar he'd been smoking. Before he could light it, Billy reached in his shirt pocket, pulled out a long cigar, and tossed it across to Saulter. “Here,” he said, “have a fresh one. That one looks like it's been rode hard and put up wet.”

Saulter nodded and picked up the cigar. He took a careful moment to light it. When he had it drawing good, he leaned back in his chair. “Thanks.”

They stared at each other for a half moment.

Finally Billy grinned. “Well, tell me, Mister Saulter, if I ain't prying, how come you leave off working for the railroads. I'd think that would be pretty good employ.”

Saulter considered the question for a moment, turning the cigar in his mouth and looking at the four men at the other table. “It was their choice,” he said finally.

“Have anything to do with that?” Billy asked, gesturing toward Saulter's wound.

Again Saulter spent a long moment considering the question. It was pushing his privacy, but then there was something going on here he hadn't got all figured out. “It was a fair fight,” he said.

Billy laughed. “Sounds like you was hunting the wrong kind of game.”

“It was a fair fight,” Saulter said again. He raised his voice, speaking now for the benefit of the whole room. There was a menace in his words. “A man put me in a corner and wouldn't leave me no way out except to kill him. It was his mistake.”

It brought a silence. Billy looked at him. He understood what Saulter meant and what he was saying.

Saulter took the cigar from his mouth and put it out. “Now I'm a little curious,” he said to Billy. He jerked his head toward the other table. “How come you and that bunch are pushing me so hard toward the city limits?”

Billy smiled and shrugged. “Well, we just can't understand why you'd want to hang around Sunshine, Mister Saulter. Ain't much here.”

“I told you why,” Saulter said evenly.

“Well, that worries us, Mister Saulter,” Billy admitted. “See, we're worried you might have got in some trouble with the law and there might be a whole pack of them right behind fixing to come piling in here on us. And we wouldn't like that. So we'd kind of like them to see your trail leading out the other side of town. Understand what I mean?”

“I told you nobody was tracking me. I'm not wanted. By nobody.”

“Yes, that's what you told us, Mister Saulter. Still and all.”

“All I can do is tell you.”

Billy put a cigar between his teeth and smiled around it. “I reckon I might say some of the same if I was wounded and needed a place to hole up. But, see, we might be wanted men, for all you know. You could understand how we'd feel then.”

Saulter looked at Billy and then at the other men. “If you're wanted,” he said slowly, “they'd be tracking you, not me.”

“Still,” Billy said.

Saulter looked at him. “Is it just this saloon, just this one place you want me out of? What about them other buildings, the one across the street?”

From the other table Tomlain laughed. Billy said quickly, “Oh, you wouldn't be interested in those, Mister Saulter. See,” he confided, “this ain't really a town. Not what you'd call a proper one. We've kind of taken it all over. You might call it a company headquarters. So you can see how we wouldn't be interested in having no strangers around.”

Saulter nodded slowly. He'd gone as far as he could or would. The rest of it was up to them. “Yes,” he said, “I can see that.”

“And besides, you're leaving.”

“Yes,” Saulter said, “I'm leaving.” He got up slowly, and went to the bar. Schmidt was standing there, his arms crossed. Saulter nodded at a bottle of the cheap whiskey. “Gimme a bottle of that.”

Schmidt set the bottle on the bar. “Dollar and a half.”

Saulter took out his shot bag and counted out six dollars. “And there's another four and a half. That's for me and my horse for three more days.” Then, without looking back, he picked up the bottle of whiskey, shouldered his rifle, and walked out of the room. As he left Billy looked over at the other table and shrugged, the gesture saying that he'd done all he could.

Outside, Saulter stood a moment looking around, drawing the clean cold air into his lungs. The sky had turned off a bright blue and the rays from the sun put a sparkling sheen on the snow. But still it was cold, bitterly cold.

Standing there, he looked the other buildings over. Just across what would have been a road if it wasn't hidden by the snow was a large rambling adobe and log building. He could tell it was occupied by the smoke coming out of the chimney. As Saulter looked, a woman suddenly opened the door and came out on the porch. He turned to face her, staring. She looked back. Though she was perhaps fifty yards away he could tell that she was young and fairly good-looking. For a long moment they stood there, staring at each other, her holding the door behind her, him in the snow. Finally, not taking her eyes off him, she backed through the door and disappeared inside. He stood there a moment longer, wondering. It was not a place, nor the country, for such a woman. Seeing her had startled him. This was, he thought, a very strange town. But all he wanted out of it was three days' rest. Then they could have it. He trudged toward the bunkhouse.

S
AULTER LAY LIKE
a man carefully preserving his strength so that his body could do the job of healing a wound. He lay on his bunk, fully dressed against the cold that swept through the room in spite of the big fireplace at the end. He had the place to himself and the dimming afternoon sunshine made it seem much bigger and bleaker. He lay there, not thinking, not making any plans beyond getting strong enough to travel. He had the big pistol back in his belt; he'd seen to the loading and added an extra cartridge to the safety hole, making it a full six. He didn't plan to stand for any more prodding.

Then the door suddenly banged open, blown out of someone's hand by the wind. Saulter turned his head, tensing. But it was only Schmidt. He came in, banged the door behind him, and stood a moment to stamp the snow off his boots. Then, without preamble, he walked over to Saulter's bunk. “You've got to get out,” he said. “Get up and saddle your horse and ride out of here.”

With an effort Saulter rolled over and got up on one elbow. He chose his words carefully. “Landlord, I paid for three days for myself and my horse. I intend to stay.”

Schmidt had Saulter's money in his hand. He flung it down on the bunk. “Here's your money back. Now get up and leave. Get out of here. I'm throwing you out.”

Evenly, Saulter said, “You took the money, Landlord. You can't give it back because they changed your mind for you. This here is a public inn. Pick the money up and put it back in your pocket.”

“You've got to go!” Schmidt shouted, stress and worry pitching his voice upward. “I can't have you here. They don't want it!”

Saulter looked at him. “Who are they, Landlord? Who is that crowd, anyway?”

“I don't know!” Schmidt said violently. “And I don't care! But they's five of them and one of you. They're paying good money and been doing it for a considerable spell. They say for you to go. So I'm telling you now I don't have a place for you. Get up!”

Saulter seemed to consider. He drew a long breath that hurt him. “Pick up your money, Schmidt. I'm not leaving. I paid for this bunk and that stall out there and I'm staying. I'm staying for three days and then I'm leaving. I don't want no trouble.”

Schmidt suddenly sat down on the next bunk. “Look here,” he said, “don't be a fool. That's a rough crowd and they want you to go. I'm not saying,” he added guardedly, “but I think it would be a whole lot better for your health if you took their advice. I'm not saying anything, but I can tell you that they mean what they say.”

Saulter looked at him mildly. “Why do they want me to go, Landlord? What's going on around here that they need me to leave?”

“I don't know,” Schmidt swore violently. “I don't know anything about them. I'm not one of that bunch. They came in here and rented out the town. They're paying good money. It's the best payday I've seen in a long time. I don't ask no questions. I don't concern myself with their business. I just do what they tell me. They tell me you've got to go.” He suddenly leaned close to Saulter. “Look here, they're having a hell of an argument. That Tomlain is bad. He wants to deal with you another way. I tell you now, leave. Leave!”

Saulter turned his face away. “Pick your money up, Landlord. I'm staying.”

Schmidt looked at him and then shrugged. “You'll leave,” he said assuredly, “one way or the other. I give you the advice, but you don't want it. I take my money,” he said. He leaned down and scooped up the silver dollars off Saulter's bed. “It won't do you any good where you're going.”

Without another word he went out. Saulter sighed and lay back to try and relax.

 

The afternoon waned. In the saloon the five men were sitting around a table, a bottle of whiskey in front of them. Schmidt had reported back to them that Saulter was not leaving. For the past several hours Tomlain had been working on the hate that had begun when he first laid eyes on Saulter.

“The hell with him,” Tomlain said. “I'm gonna put his tail between his legs right now. Or kill him trying.”

“Just take it easy, Tomlain,” Billy said. “We don't need none of that. Especially now. You know Mister McGraw don't approve of the way you like to handle things. Just let me ease on over and have another talk with him. Maybe I can make him see the light.”

“I'm going to make him see the light,” Tomlain growled. “I'm going to fix it so you can see light all the way through him.”

“Look here,” Billy said, “that won't warsh. And you know it. Mister McGraw is due in here in the next couple of days and he wouldn't be happy about that at all. He said he didn't want us causin' no disturbance. Said he wanted us laying quiet and nice. Killing that pilgrim ain't what he means. What if Saulter's got a half dozen friends looking for him? Or a half dozen enemies. Same difference. We just don't want no company, especially now, not with the job getting this close. I'll talk to him. I still feel like I can make him listen to reason.”

“I'll give him reason,” Tomlain said. “About six reasons.”

Billy sighed. “You don't listen yourself, Tomlain. You know that? Your brains ain't in your head. I just got through explaining, patiently, why we got to be careful now. I'll just talk that old boy into riding on.” He gave Tomlain a significant look. “Or would you rather deal with Mister McGraw?”

Tomlain didn't say anything. He looked away from Billy.

“Well? You've already got some explaining to do. You want some more? Or you want to try it my way? Which?”

Tomlain still didn't say anything and Billy prompted him. “Com'on now, answer up. A wink or a nod's the same to a blind mule. You want to handle this, or you want me to? You're mighty quick with that gun, but you ain't too good when it comes to answers. We can do it your way, but you be sure you're ready to explain to Mister McGraw. Well?”

Finally Tomlain pushed back his chair. “Run him off,” he answered. “Do it your way.” He stood up and started for the bar. But halfway he whirled back around. “But if he don't go I'll tend to it. You understand? And Mister McGraw would say I done right.”

 

Saulter was lying on his bunk. His face was pale and drawn. The door opened and Billy came in, a shaft of sunlight following him. He walked to the bed next to Saulter's and sat down. “Howdy,” he said. “Thought I'd come visit.”

Saulter nodded.

Billy got out a cigar, licked it, stuck it in his mouth. “Can I light you up one?”

Saulter shook his head.

Billy studied him for a moment. “Neighbor, I've come over here for your best benefit. You're actin' a little more stubborn than is good for you. What say I go ahead and saddle up your horse and help you on out of here? Another town just about ten miles down the road. You could make that easy by tonight.”

Saulter smiled slightly. “That's a lie. There's no town near here.”

Billy shrugged and grinned. “Just trying to make it easy for you.”

Saulter settled himself. “I like it here.”

“Now look here, neighbor,” Billy said earnestly. “I'm going to have to have a little prayer meeting with your heart. That old dog won't hunt. You've gone and upset Mister Tomlain and he wants you gone. It's took me the better part of an afternoon to talk him out of coming over here and doing something harmful to you. See what I mean? I'm looking out for you and you won't even take my advice.”

“I can't leave,” Saulter said hoarsely. “I will when I can. In three days.”

Billy shook his head. “That just won't do, scout. See, we've got a very important visitor coming in here in the next two days and he wouldn't like you hanging around. I'll tell you at least that much.”

Saulter asked, “Why not?”

“Well, let's just say that's his way. Let's just say he don't like strangers around.”

“Why not?”

“Mister Saulter, you're getting a little more inquiring than is best for a body's health. Here I'm trying to do you a favor and you won't see it. I told you this ain't really a town. This gentleman in question has bought the place and it's just the same as if you was trespassing. You get my drift? You understand what I mean about trespassing? It's not a healthy occupation. I can understand your problem, what with your wound and all, but I can tell you that if this gentleman sics Mister Tomlain on you, you'd be a lot better off out on the bald-ass prairie in all this snow.”

Billy got up. “I'm going to saddle your horse for you. Then I'm going to come back here and help you gather up your gear and ride on out. It's the sensible thing. And you'll be glad you did it.”

“No,” Saulter said.

Billy grimaced and threw his cigar down on the floor. “Don't be like that, neighbor. You're into something a little bigger than you want a part of. Look, I'm going the extra mile for you. I'm a southern boy myself, and I can see you're hurt. I comprehend all that. But I'm telling you, you don't know what you're up against.” In his earnestness, Billy took off his hat and laid it on the bed. “I'm talking too much, as normal, but I don't really want to see you get killed. Don't see the need. But that's what it's going to come to if you don't get out. I mean that.” He stopped and stared at Saulter, waiting for a reaction.

Saulter made none.

“Look here,” Billy went on, “just supposing we were wanted men. Just suppose we were on the dodge. Don't you see how it'd be, how we'd feel about company?”

Saulter said, “That ain't it. If you were wanted you wouldn't let me ride out of here.”

Billy studied him for a moment. Then he put his hat back on. “You're hardheaded. The way things are it's as easy to kill you as let you go. You keep on makin' push come to shove and the killin' part will get easier. It's your choice.” He got up and smiled. “Now I'll go get your horse and you make yourself ready to ride. I'll even stake you to some grub off Schmidt if you're short.”

He waited for Saulter to answer, but, when the tall man didn't, wheeled on his heel and went out. Saulter watched him until the door had shut, then with a painful effort, pulled himself up and eased his feet over the side of the bunk. He rested a second, then pulled on his boots, the effort making his face go gray with pain. He got the bottle of whiskey sitting by the side of the bunk, uncorked it, and took a long drink. Then he sat there, his arms resting on his knees, holding the opened bottle loosely in one hand. He didn't want to get up, but he knew he was going to have to. This thing wasn't going to go off by itself so it looked as if he'd have to get up and go handle it. He wished he felt better, stronger. He took another drink of whiskey and corked the bottle and set it back down on the floor.

Just then Billy came back through the door. He came up to the bunk grinning, his face rosy from the cold wind. “Ready to go, scout? Got your horse saddled and tied up outside. Here, let me get your gear.” He bent and began to gather up Saulter's bedroll and other belongings. “We ought to get moving. It's getting late and you'll want to make a good camp before dark.”

Saulter came slowly to his feet. The weight of the big revolver was a reassuring tug at his waist. He reached for his rifle, but Billy took it. “I'll see to that. I don't imagine you'd go without it.” Saulter nodded; he would as soon have both hands free. Billy went on. “Used to have a wife like you and that rifle. Inseparable. Good thing she couldn't shoot as straight as I imagine this piece here does. She caught me being a little too separable one time. Took a real bad attitude about the whole situation.” He was talking gaily as he shepherded Saulter toward the door. The tall hunter walked slowly, as if he were pushing a heavy boulder ahead of him.

Billy held the door and they went outside. Saulter looked up. The sky had gone leaden again and little flurries of snow were beginning to fall. His horse was tied just outside. Billy went to the animal and began to load the gear, tying the bedroll on the back and ramming the big rifle home in the boot. “All set,” he said, “hop aboard and I'll give you a send-off.” He held up a bottle of whiskey he'd taken from his coat. “This is the good stuff. None of the ordinary.”

But Saulter walked on by him, toward the saloon. Billy took a step after him. “What's the matter? Where you going?”

“In there,” Saulter said, still walking.

Billy came up alongside of him. “Look, you need something? Some grub? I'll get it. You better not go in there.”

“No,” Saulter said. “I'll tend to it myself.” He walked toward the front of the store, his stride becoming more purposeful with every step.

Billy stopped, watching him. “Saulter,” he called, “don't do anything foolish.”

But Saulter did not answer. He now had his mind on what he must do, though he was not sure yet how he was going to handle it. Unconsciously he reached down and made sure his big coat was unbuttoned so he could get at the Navy Colts.

Then, as he was about to step up on the porch, the door of the house across the street opened. Saulter stopped. The same woman he'd seen earlier came out. She paused, seeing Saulter, and then started down the steps. He watched her. She was wearing a long dress with bunched sleeves. She had a shawl over her head and shoulders and he couldn't see the color of her hair. But he could see, from closer now, that she was prettier than he'd thought before.

She came to the bottom of the steps and stopped. For a long moment there was eye contact between them. Same as before. Some sort of chemistry was passing between them. Then she dropped her eyes and hitched at her shawl. Saulter turned, after one last look, and mounted the steps to the store. He did not pause, but took the doorknob in his right hand and threw it back forcefully.