Cold-Blooded, page 15
Len Crawford nodded. “Make it good. The sawn-off son of a bitch is a demon with a six-gun.”
“I won’t miss,” Graham said. He grinned. “I’m already thinking about how I’ll spend the fifty dollars Dunn give us.”
“You think he’ll come this far?” Crawford said. “Maybe he’ll stop and go back.”
“Dunn said he always passes this alley on his walk. Why should tonight be any different?”
Crawford touched his tongue to his dry top lip. “Hell, just don’t miss, Kirk. If you do we’re dead men.”
“I won’t miss,” Graham said. “And neither will you.”
* * *
Minutes passed and the two assassins grew anxious. Worse, the rising moon spilled wan light into Tam’s Wynd so that Graham’s and Crawford’s jailhouse-pale faces were visible in the gloom.
“Damn him, he ain’t coming,” Crawford said.
“Wait here,” Graham said. “I’ll take a look.”
He propped his shotgun against the wall to his right and walked on cat feet toward the mouth of the alley. Later Luke would say it was a mistake that cost Graham his life.
“Are you gentlemen looking for me?” Luke appeared from the end of the alley, parting the gloom like a sable curtain. He held a Colt in his gun hand, the silver-topped cane in the other. “Well, here I am, as large as life and ready to open the ball.”
Crawford, a rapist and woman beater, was not a gunman. He’d never even met a gunman and all he knew about draw fighters he’d read in the dime novels. A cool gun hand would have deployed the Greener very quickly, but Crawford lacked sand and took time to shriek for Graham’s help. That was all the time Luke Short needed.
Luke, shooting at a distance of five feet, slammed two bullets into Crawford’s belly, figuring the shock of getting gut-shot would immediately cause him to drop the scattergun and put him out of the fight. He was right. Crawford screamed, slammed against the wall and slid to a sitting position. He yelped and wailed and the Greener fell from his bloody hands.
Graham was a tougher proposition. In his time he’d fought men. Separated from his shotgun, he skinned iron and shot at Luke, who took a hit. Luke returned fire, aiming for the white blur of Graham’s face. A miss. His legs in danger of giving out, Luke reeled a little as he and Graham exchanged shots. He staggered a few steps forward, steadied himself against a wall and emptied his revolver at Graham. In the darkness, Graham a bobbing, weaving target, his remaining two shots went wild and the hammer of his Colt clicked on an empty chamber.
Graham roared in triumph and advanced on Luke. “I’ve got ye now, you damned runt,” he said.
Luke saw the shotgun propped against the wall, but he knew he’d never reach it. Graham would gun him for sure. But for some reason the man held his fire, shuffling forward, his revolver at the ready, getting close. Then grinning, showing a rotten mouth, he stated his intentions. “Between the eyes, Short. You get it right between the eyes.”
Luke Short was a small, well-coordinated man and almighty sudden. Steel sang from a scabbard and Graham cried out in pain as a two-foot-long blade ran him through. Luke jerked the sword free of the man’s chest and the blade dripped blood as he watched Graham collapse to the ground.
Luke saw the agonized question on the dying man’s face and he smiled and raised the blade in a salute. “Sword cane, a gentleman’s weapon. Something you know nothing about.”
Graham’s pained eyes lifted to Luke. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.
“You most certainly will,” Luke said. But he was talking to a dead man. He turned his attention to Crawford, who was dying in considerable pain. “Have you made your peace with your Maker?” he said.
“Get it over with,” Crawford said. His teeth were gritted and there was black blood in his mouth.
Luke nodded. “Good-bye, old fellow,” he said. He shoved the sword into Crawford’s heart and watched as all the life in him fled.
When Jess Casey reached the alley, Luke was unconscious, overcome by the bullet wound in his lower chest.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
“Luke Short will not die young of a bullet wound,” Dr. Arthur Bell said. “He’ll die young of something else.” He saw concern in Jess’s face and added, “He’ll be up and about in a few days.”
“The men who tried to kill him?” Jess said.
“Both dead of bullet and sword wounds,” Dr. Bell said. “First time I’ve written that on an Acre death certificate.” His gaze moved to the woman in Jess’s office. “How are you keeping, Mary?”
“I’m just peachy, doc,” Mary Kelly said, her eyes bold. Born in Ireland, she’d lived most of her life in Wales and her speech had a Welsh lilt. “I’m going back to Britain, to London town, to see if I can make a new life for myself.”
“Stay off the streets and avoid the gin, Mary,” Dr. Bell said. “Before you leave come and talk with me. I have a colleague in London who’s a fine surgeon. I’ll give you a letter of introduction and perhaps he can help you find a situation. I think you might prosper in service, start as a scullery maid and work yourself up. Many have done it before you.”
“You’re very kind, Doctor, but I have a friend in the East End who promises to be ever so helpful. Catherine Eddowes is her name. She’s a very happy woman, always singing like a lark.”
“Is she turning tricks, Mary?” Dr. Bell said.
“Yes, and I will, too, but only until I get on my feet, like,” Mary said. “Oh, that was funny . . . only until I get on my feet.”
Jess smiled, but Dr. Bell remained stern. “If you change your mind, remember my letter. If you don’t, well, take care of yourself.”
After the physician left, Jess said, “Miss Kelly, did Luke Short tell you he was going to seek out the two men in the alley and kill them?”
“Yes, before they killed him,” Mary said. She glared at Jess. “Sheriff, you’re not going to put Luke’s head in a noose for defending himself.”
“That is not my intention,” Jess said.
“I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles that they planned to murder Luke then or later.”
“I’m sure you will,” Jess said. “You may go now, Miss Kelly.”
The woman flounced to the door, but her dress caught in the bolt and Jess heard a tearing sound.
“Look at that!” Mary Kelly said. “I’m all ripped to shreds.”
* * *
“I swear that man has more lives than a cat,” Jasper Dunn said. “Two of my best men gone and Short is still kicking.”
“You want I should go deal with him, boss?” Silas Topper said.
Dunn ignored that and said to Loco Looper, “He’s wounded and in bed under doctor’s orders, you say?”
“That’s what I heard,” Looper said.
“Then it’s time to make our move,” Dunn said. “Mr. Talon, you and six other men come with me. Mr. Topper will be one of them. Mr. Looper, you will stay here and guard this building.”
“What’s your plan?” Ford Talon said.
“We’ll break the weakest link in the chain thrown around the Acre,” Dunn said. “That link is Luke Short.”
“You plan to kill him?” Talon said.
“It would have been the more simple way, but no, Mr. Talon, I won’t kill him, at least tonight,” Dunn said. “Mr. Short will sign a contract and all will be well.”
Dunn rose, strapped on his gun belt and said, “Let us be on our way. The game begins.”
* * *
Despite the late hour the White Elephant was still thronged, though the girls had their high-heeled shoes off to rest their aching feet and the sporting crowd showed signs of the wear and tear of whiskey and the gambling tables.
Dunn stood just inside the door with his men, then said, “Mr. Topper, you will circulate and talk to the bartenders and other staff. Sound them out, Mr. Topper. See how they feel about a change in ownership.”
Topper nodded. “They’ll feel good about it or answer to me.”
Dunn said, “No gunplay if it can be avoided.” Then, “Come, Mr. Talon, it’s our Christian duty to visit the sick.”
The pretty young woman who answered Luke’s door shook her head when she saw two men standing in the gloom of the upstairs hallway.
“Mr. Short is resting comfortably,” she said. “But he is not seeing visitors.”
Dunn said, “He’ll see me.” He pushed the girl aside and stepped into the room. Then, a quick turn of his head and, “Mr. Talon, don’t let her leave. If she screams cut her throat.” He stepped to the bed. Luke lay on his back, his face pale. His eyes were closed and his breathing was ragged. Dunn removed the Colt from the bedside table.
“Mr. Short, can you hear me?” he said.
A man who lives by the gun wakes instantly. “Who the hell are you?” Luke said. His hand reached out to the table.
“Is this what you’re looking for, Mr. Short?” Dunn said, holding up the Colt. Then, his face full of mock concern, he said, “Are you wounded very badly? Is it fatal, perchance?”
Luke struggled to rise but the effort was too much for him and he sank back onto the pillow. His voice weaker this time, he said, “Who are you?”
“Why, my name is Jasper Dunn, Mr. Short. I’m your new partner.”
“I don’t need a new partner,” Luke said. “Now get the hell out of here.”
Dunn reached into the inside pocket of his coat and produced what looked like a legal document. “I’ve drawn up the contract and I’m sure you’ll agree it’s quite straightforward, Mr. Short. We split the White Elephant right down the middle. Ninety percent for me, and the remaining ten percent is your share. Generous of me, don’t you think?”
Luke’s face was black with anger and he tried to rise from the bed, but Dunn pushed him back and said, “Sign it, Mr. Short.” He nodded to Talon. “Bring pen and ink from the desk over there. Take the girl with you. She’ll witness the signature.” The woman was terrified and Dunn grinned. “She’ll give us no trouble, will you, little darling?”
“Dunn? Is that your name?” Luke said.
“Yes. Jasper Dunn. Your partner.”
“I’ll kill you, Dunn,” Luke said. “I swear to God I’ll kill you for this.”
Talon laid the pen and inkwell on the desk. He was tearing himself apart. Was this the time to intervene? Should he pull his gun and shoot Dunn down? Something told him that it wasn’t a good idea. Once Topper and the rest of them heard the shot they’d come running and Talon knew he’d be a dead man. Talon had bigger plans in the making and the voice of reason in his head whispered, Bide your time . . . bide your time. And he heeded it.
Dunn dipped the pen into the inkwell and held it out to Luke. “Sign the contract. Make it legal.”
“Go to hell,” Luke said, fighting to rise from the bed.
His struggle revealed the thick, bloodstained bandage that covered his wound. Dunn saw it and, his face filled with a fiendish rage, he slammed his fist into the wound.
And Luke Short screamed in pain.
“Sign it, sign it, sign it,” Dunn screeched. Talon saw that Luke Short was barely holding on to consciousness, his face an agonized white mask. Dunn shoved the pen into Luke’s hand. Black ink splattered over the white pillow and sheets. “Sign it,” he said. “Damn you, sign it.” He forced Luke’s hand across the page and the sputtering pen scrawled what looked like the signature of a demented mental patient.
“It’s signed!” Dunn yelled. And to the horrified girl, he said, “Can you write your name?” The girl nodded and he pointed with the wooden end of the pen and said, “Sign your name down there where it says ‘Witnessed by.’ Do it now or by God I’ll kill you.”
The girl’s hand trembled, but her signature was legible. “Sally Boyd,” Dunn said. “You did very well, Sally. Now, Sally, sweet Sally, go pull the curtains aside and open the window. I’m the new owner of the White Elephant and Mr. Short is leaving us.”
The girl did as she was told and Dunn got Luke by the shoulders and dragged him out of the bed. Groaning in pain, Luke was semiconscious, unaware of the full enormity of what was happening to him. Dunn hauled him to the open window. Sounds of mirth, the clink of glasses and the tinkling of a piano could be heard from the saloon below.
Dunn manhandled Luke’s head and shoulders into the open window.
“Dunn, I want no part in this,” Talon said. “That’s no way to treat a man.”
“Who the hell cares what you think?” Jasper Dunn said. He pushed Luke out the window and then glanced down at the alley below. When he pulled his head back he grinned. “He fell very well, I think. Landed on his thick head.”
“Is he dead?” Sally Boyd said, the tips of her fingers straying to her lips.
“Probably,” Dunn said. “Or close to it.” He scowled at the girl. “You mention this to anybody, sweet Sally, and I’ll throw you to my men. They won’t treat you nice.”
The girl shook her head. “I promise I won’t say a word.”
Dunn’s cold eyes shifted to Talon. “And what about you, Major? Will you keep your mouth shut?”
“For now, yes,” Talon said.
“For now? I don’t like that answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re going to get, Dunn,” Talon said.
Dunn’s cold gaze raked him, as though his eyes had claws.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Luke Short was in a hell of a fix and he knew it. Weak from loss of blood, hurting badly from his wound, his options were few. He could stay where he was and hope someone found him or he could crawl out of the alley and seek help.
The coyotes made up his mind for him.
A big male stepped through the darkness and stopped, his nose high, scenting blood. In the time it took Luke to blink, two more appeared and advanced on him, their heads low. But it was the huge dog that attacked first. The animal growled then lunged at Luke’s face and he threw up a hand to protect himself. The coyote bit hard on Luke’s hand and he cried out in pain. Startled, the big dog backed off, but not for long. Crazed by the blood smell, the two smaller coyotes went for Luke’s ankles where they showed under his nightgown. The big male went for the face again and Luke felt its breath on his cheek. He punched out at the dog and connected with a right hook to the left side of the animal’s head. The coyote yelped and stepped back and Luke kicked away the two that were worrying his ankles bloody.
But his strength was waning fast and the coyotes sensed weakness and grew bolder.
In an instant all three were on top of him and Luke fought desperately, kicking and punching in a snarling tangle of legs, jaws and flashing fangs. Now he was getting bitten badly and the unequal struggle slammed Luke’s back into the timber wall of the White Elephant. His right hand hit something hard. An empty wine bottle. Luke’s fingers closed on the neck of the bottle and he swung hard at the big male. But his hand was slick, covered in blood, and the bottle flew out of his grasp and thudded harmlessly into the wall opposite. At that moment, Luke Short knew he was done for. The coyotes were finding openings in his guard and were in a frenzy to make the kill.
“God forgive me,” he whispered, a three-word atonement for a lifetime of sin. Then he dropped his arms and let the coyotes take him.
* * *
Ford Talon stepped out of the White Elephant while Jasper Dunn was busy inside organizing his takeover of Luke Short’s business. Talon told himself he needed a cigar, but his real purpose was to check on Short and find out if he was still alive. No doubt the fall from the window had broken his neck, but there was also the chance that the little man was still alive and suffering.
Talon stepped off the boardwalk and heard a growling, snarling commotion in the alley. A man cursed loudly, then came the thud of a heavy object hitting a wall. The snarling rose to a crescendo, but the man’s voice was now silent. Talon drew his gun and stepped into the darkness.
Luke’s nightgown was a bundle of white to his right and he saw the dark shapes of three large coyotes as they frenziedly nipped and tore at Luke.
Talon charged, kicked the big dog away and then fell on the other two. But the fight went out of them quickly. The human wasn’t wounded prey but was on his feet and ready for a fight. The three coyotes melted into darkness and left the bloody field to Talon.
Luke Short was in a bad way. He was unconscious and his breathing was ragged and it looked to Talon that he wasn’t going to make it. He thought about it. Was Luke Short any concern of his? Apart from one meeting in Jess Casey’s office he didn’t even know the man. Best to leave him where he was and let nature take its course. But even as he considered that, Talon knew he couldn’t do it. Luke was a human being and he needed help. That was the open and shut of it.
Luke was a small man and Talon had strong arms. He picked up the little gambler and carried him to the mouth of the alley. Out in the darkness the City Hall clock struck three and people had all but vanished from the street, though inside the White Elephant there was a hubbub of voices as Dunn laid down the law to his new employees.
Talon had no idea where the doctors were located in this town and he knew no one who would take Luke in and care for him. No one, that is, but Sheriff Jess Casey.
It was a fair walk from the White Elephant to the sheriff’s office, but Luke was a light burden and Talon wasn’t even breathing hard when he kicked on the office door with the toe of his ankle boot.
After a couple of minutes a lamp was lit inside and Jess Casey, wearing only his long underwear and hat, padded on bare feet to the door. He didn’t open it, but said, “This better be good or I’ll shoot you down right where you stand.”
Talon raised his voice. “Sheriff, it’s me, Ford Talon. I’ve got Luke Short with me and he’s damn near knocking on death’s door.”
The key turned in the lock and Jess allowed Talon inside. “Put him on my cot back there. I’ll bring the oil lamp.”
All Talon said was that Luke had been shot and then attacked by coyotes. Jess kept his questions for later, examined Luke’s cut and battered body, then said, “The coyote bites look worse than they are. If the bullet wound doesn’t kill him he’ll survive.”
