The Bounty Hunters, page 5
Primrose turned off the square and led the way down a narrow side street lined with small crumbling adobe houses, most of them unpainted and resembling cubes of dried mud. Primrose stopped in front of one of these low-roofed houses and said reluctantly, “This is it. She’s inside.”
“Where’s the money you took?” Travis asked.
Primrose scowled. “She’s keeping what’s left of it. I got in a poker game and some cardsharps cheated me out of most of it.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Travis said. “But Chet won’t like it.”
“I ain’t worried about that old fool,” Primrose said. Then he asked, his scowl deepening, “You gonna take her back to him? Or were you thinking of keeping her for yourself?”
“Don’t push your luck, Billy,” Travis said quietly. “I was never very fond of you and you’re not helping me to forget it. Now take a walk and keep out of my sight till I leave town, or I may decide to take you back with me.”
Primrose swaggered off, muttering, “I’ll be watching the house, so don’t you try anything. Not unless you want a bullet when you come out.” He threw a frightened glance over his shoulder at Travis and then broke into a run, ducking into a narrow alley between two buildings.
Travis looked after him for a moment, then stepped up to the door of the small adobe house and knocked.
“Who is it?” Nita Ramsey called in her throaty voice, the Mexican accent somehow making the question seem exciting.
Travis repeated the knock as if he had not heard her, and quick angry steps approached the door. She jerked the door open and he saw the anger flashing in her large brown eyes. Then the anger vanished and her mouth opened in surprise.
“You!” she exclaimed.
“Afraid so,” Travis said, adjusting his hat but not taking it off. When he bared his head it seemed more like an invitation to admire his hair than a courteous gesture. And whatever else Nita Ramsey was, she was no lady. Not if the word still meant what Travis thought it did.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, the anger coming back into her beautiful dark face. Her full, sensual lips twisted with scorn. “Did that old fool send you to find me?”
“That’s about the size of it,” Travis said. “He wants you back.”
“Well, I’m not going back!” Nita Ramsey retorted, her voice rising to a near shout.
Travis glanced about and then said, “Could we discuss it inside?”
Nita stepped back from the door. “Come on in. But it won’t do no good. I’m not going back to that old shack. It was bad enough at the ranch.”
Travis stepped inside and shut the door. His glance took in the room—the lumpy unmade bed, the cluttered bureau in one corner, the two straight-backed chairs. At the back end of the room there was a small cookstove and a board table.
“I can see why a place like this might make it hard to go back to that,” he said slowly, hiding the irony.
“Everything’s in a mess,” Nita said, picking a silky garment out of a chair and tossing it onto the bed. Then she looked at Travis and fired off two rapid questions. “How did you find us? Have you seen Billy?”
“I think I saw him ducking into an alley back there,” Travis said.
“You leave him alone,” Nita said. “What do you care anyway? You never even noticed me.” She gave him a closer look. “Are you jealous?”
He gave her a hard look. “I don’t. I didn’t. I’m not.”
“What?” she asked.
“Just trying to catch up with you,” he said.
“Why don’t you like me anyhow?” Nita asked, as if he had insulted her.
“Would you really like to know?” Travis asked, his face a little grim.
“Yes, I would!”
“You talk too much,” he told her. “You talk so much no one can keep track of what you say, including you.”
“So that’s it,” she said. “I thought it was something else. You sure that’s the only reason?”
“That’s enough,” Travis told her. “But you and Chet can discuss your faults when you get back. I imagine the subject will interest him a lot more than it does me.”
“I already told you, I’m not going back!” Nita yelled.
Travis nodded. “Chet and I talked about that a little before I left. I told him you might not want to come back. He said in that case you better enjoy the money you stole from him, because you’ll never get another cent out of him.”
“Oh, I already know that,” Nita said scornfully. “That’s the reason I left. He wouldn’t give me any money or take me anywhere to spend it. Do you know how much he got out of the ranch? Forty thousand dollars, that’s how much! And he wouldn’t even take me to Santa Fe and buy me some new clothes. I was a prisoner in that old shack.”
“Well, it looks like you escaped,” Travis said. “Chet thought you might be ready to come back. So he sent me to tell you you can come back if you want to.”
“Ha!” Nita said. “I starve first!”
Travis nodded. “That’s just what will happen if you wait for Billy Primrose to earn you a living. He’ll have you walking the streets.”
“That’s better than going back to that old shack,” Nita said.
“You might like it better,” Travis admitted. “You always struck me as the type. But I don’t think I’d do it in this town if I were you.”
“And why not?” she asked. “It’s as good a place as any.”
“It might not be too safe,” he said. “If I’m not mistaken there’s an old friend of yours dealing cards in one of the saloons. He may even be the one who cleaned Billy out. They don’t know each other from Adam. But he’ll know you when he sees you.”
“What are you talking about?” Nita Ramsey asked. “I don’t have any old friends in this town.”
“I’m pretty sure the man who came to the ranch with Red Grayson is here,” Travis said. “And if he’s here, there may be some other members of the gang around.”
Nita Ramsey’s eyes widened in alarm. “Are you sure? Do you think he knows I’m here? Oh, God, they’ve come to kill me! They said they’d kill me if I told anyone they raped me!”
“Did they rape you?” Travis asked.
“I already said they did!” she cried. “Don’t you believe me?”
“I’ve never been as sure as I’d like to be,” Travis said. “I meant to get the truth out of Red Grayson, but instead of telling me he went for his gun and I had to kill him.”
“You should have killed the other one too!” Nita exclaimed. “Now he’s come here to kill me!”
“I’m not even sure he’s the one,” Travis said. “But I’ve got a feeling he is.”
“What does he look like?” Nita asked.
“Tall man with pale blue eyes and a big nose,” Travis said. “He’s got a little scar here on his left cheek.”
“It’s him!” Nita Ramsey cried, wringing her hands. “I just knew it! He’s the one who killed Lyle! Lyle came in with a gun in his hand and told Red Grayson to get away from me and then that tall one came in and shot Lyle.”
“Did they both attack you, or just Red Grayson?” Travis asked.
“Only Red Grayson,” Nita said. “But that other one would have too if Lyle hadn’t come in. Then they left after they shot him.”
“What was Lyle doing back at the ranch, when he was supposed to be at the roundup?” Travis asked.
“I don’t know,” Nita said, waving her arms. “Chet asked me that a hundred times. Would you believe he was jealous of his own son?”
“Did he have any reason to be?” Travis asked.
“No!” Nita Ramsey cried indignantly. “He never should have married me if he was going to think things like that all the time. He knew he was too old a man for me and he thought I was with one of the hands every time his back was turned. He said I only married him for his money.”
“Well, it was true, wasn’t it?” Travis asked.
“What if it was?” Nita asked angrily. “Why else would I marry a man old enough to be my father? He had a son older than me. He should have known why I was marrying him. I was tired of being poor and ragged all the time. But I was a lot happier when I was poor and ragged than I ever was at that ranch! And then he took me to that old shack where I never got to see anyone except him. I was ready to go crazy till Billy showed up. But now I guess I’ll have to go back there. That man won’t ever find me there.”
“You may not be in any danger,” Travis said. “Somehow he doesn’t strike me as the type who’d kill a woman.”
“They said they would if I ever told anyone!” Nita Ramsey cried. “And now he’s here. Why did he come here if he wasn’t looking for me?”
“You’d have to ask him that,” Travis said.
Nita rolled her large eyes in horror. “Are you crazy? I’m not going near him! I’m getting out of this town just as fast as I can.” She turned and began throwing things in a bag, then stopped and asked, “Will you take me back to Chet? I know Billy won’t. I already asked him to once when we had an argument and he hit me in the face.”
“Do you still have a horse?”
Nita nodded her head. “The mare Chet gave me. She’s at the stable.”
“Get everything ready and I’ll come back for you tonight after it’s dark,” Travis said. “Don’t try to take anything much. We’ll have to travel light.”
Chapter 6
As Travis entered the hotel where he had taken a room, a tall dark-garbed man stepped out of an alley across the street and lit a long thin cigar. His hat was tilted down over his sharp black eyes but a close observer would have noticed that he watched the hotel with more than idle curiosity. The man had a hard weathered face with a strong nose over a black mustache and a stubborn chin. He looked older than his thirty years. His name was Colman but at the moment he was calling himself Parker. It was a name he had used before when his own name was too well known to the wrong people.
Travis had not appeared in El Paso, so Colman had kept going west according to plan. He had come through Albuquerque, but Travis had not been there either. He had not gone to Santa Fe, because Lorna Mason had said she was going there to see if her husband was still there, and would send off the agreed-on telegrams if she spotted Travis. Colman figured she was going there to meet Barney Pierce. But Pierce was here in Tucson, so perhaps she did have a husband in Santa Fe.
Pierce was here, Nita Ramsey was here, and now Travis. Colman had seen them all, but he did not think any of them had seen him yet.
Colman had often marveled that the same faces kept turning up in town after town, but he knew there was more than coincidence involved here. He was here looking for Travis, and it now appeared that Travis had come here looking for Nita Ramsey. That was somewhat of a surprise, and it made Colman wonder if there had been something between those two when Travis was Chet Ramsey’s foreman. He had not thought Travis was the type to get involved with his boss’s wife, but he had been disappointed in people so often that he knew anything was possible.
He did not remain where he was long, for he was afraid that as soon as Travis climbed the stairs to his room he would look out the window and see him. So Colman turned down the alley and made his way to the small side street where Nita Ramsey and Billy Primrose had rented a one-room adobe. When Travis returned he meant to be waiting for him.
As he drew near the house he heard Nita Ramsey and Billy Primrose inside arguing. The racket they were making covered the slight scuff of his boots and the curtains were drawn, so they could not see him through a window. He had intended to force his way in and keep them quiet at gunpoint, but at the last minute he changed his mind and walked softly around the corner of the house and knelt behind some bushes. The pair had lowered their voices and he could not tell what they were saying.
Then he heard the door open and he realized they were leaving. Straightening up cautiously he peered over the bushes and saw them cross the street and go down an alley, carrying a single carpetbag. Billy Primrose looked back over his shoulder and Colman ducked from sight. When he looked again they had disappeared.
Well, well, he thought. Travis would have two surprises waiting for him when he got to the crumbling adobe.
Colman went around and tried the door. It opened and he went in. It was already getting dark and when he closed the door he could barely distinguish the objects in the room. He debated lighting the lamp on the board table. It would seem more natural if the lamp was burning. But he decided he could not chance it. The window at the back had no curtain and the other curtains probably had holes in them. Travis was not a peeping Tom, but he was not a reckless fool either, and he might try to see what was in the house before trying the door. There was only one door, so he would have to come in the front. That made Colman’s job a little easier. He drew his Colt and waited by the front window, pulling the curtain back enough so he could watch the street.
Outside a lone cottonwood shook in a cold wind and dead leaves rattled across the yard. Colman turned up the collar of his black whipcord jacket and wished he had brought a warmer coat. He would likely need one before he ever got Travis to Sam Grayson. That was a chore he did not much look forward to, but getting the drop on Travis was enough to think about right now.
A sound out back arrested his attention, and his head jerked toward the window that had no curtain. He bent down and crouched behind the foot of the bed, watching the window. A moment later he heard low voices. One was unmistakably the voice of the mulatto, Coon Hooks. So they had followed him, Colman though grimly.
“You sho’ it was him?” Hooks asked.
“It was too dark to tell,” another voice said. “But who else would it be?”
“Be quiet, dammit. He heah you.”
“Hell, you’re talkin’ louder than I am. He’s prob’ly already heard us. No way to move quiet because of these dead leaves.”
“Den I guess we jus’ have to bust in shootin’,” Hooks said. “You go round front doah. I take dis heah window.”
“I sure wish we had them other boys here.”
“Hell, he only one man. You getting sca’ed, Dextuh?”
Dexter grumbled something and tramped through the narrow alley toward the front of the house, not even trying to avoid noise. Their boldness and recklessness amazed Colman a little. They either had a lot of confidence in themselves or not a very high opinion of him as a fighting man. But one thing was plain—they had come here to kill him.
Well, if this is how you want it, he thought, his face hard and grim in the dark.
His gun was one of the new double-action Colt .45s that did not have to be cocked. He trained it on the naked window and waited, casting quick glances over his left shoulder at the door.
He saw a dark shadow at the window, but still waited, his heart pounding despite the resolute hardness of his face. He thought he knew what the mulatto had in mind. He was waiting until the door burst open and Colman fired at Dexter. Then he, Hooks, would direct his fire at Colman’s muzzle flash. The mulatto had more brains than Colman had figured. But he was a bit too eager and exposed himself at the window a moment before the door crashed open.
Colman fired at the window first, heard the glass break and Hooks cry out in pain and surprise. Then as the heavy man fell, Colman whirled and fired at the dark shape of Dexter in the doorway. Dexter staggered back firing as he went down and his bullet whined off the bedstead near Colman. Rising Colman shot him again just to make sure. Then he ducked through the door and ran around to the back of the house, his gun ready.
Coon Hooks was trying to rise. He held his empty hand out toward Colman and cried hoarsely, “Don’t shoot no mo’, man! I’m hit bad!”
“Not as bad as you should be, you son of a nigger whore,” Colman told him. “Where’s your gun?”
“I don’t know, man! I drops it someplace around heah! I can’t half see, man! I got glass in one o’ my eyes! You done blinded me!”
“It’s better than you meant for me,” Colman said. He located Hooks’ revolver and thrust it in his waistband, stepping back away from the mulatto who, though badly hurt and unarmed, might still be dangerous. It was even possible that he had another weapon on him, but Colman did not want to get close enough to search him.
“Who dat?” Hooks asked, peering up at him with his one good eye. “Colman!” he cried in wild outrage. “We thought it was Travis in dere! What duh hell you doin’ heah?”
“What do you think?” Colman asked.
“You dumb son of a bitch!” Hooks said. “Now look what you gone and done! And we wasn’t even aftuh you!”
“Maybe not,” Colman said, “but you would have killed me all the same.”
“You still aftuh Travis, ain’t yuh?” Hooks cried. “Even aftuh I done tol’ you he belong tuh us! Yo’ goose is cooked now, man! Wait till Grayson heahs about dis!”
“Who’s going to tell him?” Colman asked, quiet and grim. “You?”
“What? Nah, man, I ain’t tellin’ him nuthin’. He got no use fuh no blind nigguh. You done ruint me, man!”
“If I had any brains I’d finish you,” Colman said. “When you get done running your big mouth, Grayson will think I was after you all along. But you better tell him the straight of what happened here. Tell him I wasn’t after you or Dexter or any of his men. I’m just after the bounty on Travis. If you lie to him about how this happened, the next time we meet I won’t leave you in any shape to talk.”
“Don’t leave me heah like dis, man!” Hooks cried. “I’m bleedin’ tuh death!”
“I hope you do,” Colman told him.
He went back around to the front of the house and started to drag Dexter’s body into the alley. He thought it possible that Travis might still show up, even after the shooting. But as he stopped by the dead man he heard shouts and pounding feet and knew a crowd was headed this way. He ran down the street to the edge of town, circled through the desert chaparral and reentered town from the far side, mingling with the excited crowd in the square. He looked about for Travis but did not see him anywhere.
