The Quiet Gun - Edge Series 1 (13 page)

81

‘It’s well placed, lady,’ Edge said as he picked up the money, neatened it into a stack and pushed it into his hip pocket.

‘I hope so.’

He went to the rear door, paused with a hand on the latch and looked over his shoulder to say: ‘I suppose it’s impossible for you to put yourself in my position?’

‘What?’ She had become detached from her present surroundings as she lifted the lamp chimney and prepare to blow out the flame: had to delve into her mind to recall what he had just said to her. ‘I don’t know what you mean?’

She doused the light and he swung the door open as he replied:

‘I’ve got a reputation to maintain,’

82

CHAPTER • 10

_________________________________________________________________________

AS EDGE closed the door on the scowling widow her terse response was
sneeringly indistinct. But the tone signalled it was profane and he briefly regretted he had caused such a beautiful woman to express herself in this ugly way. But he immediately put thoughts of Kitty Raine out of his mind as he moved away from the house and crossed behind three of its neighbours to the south: taking long strides over the deserted street then heading for the rear of Jake Slocum’s premises. The woman was only his kind because she was beautiful. Everything else he knew of her was weighted on the opposite side of the scales by which he measured his opinion of the female of the species.

A light continued to burn in the undertaker’s workshop and there were some muted sounds from within which ceased when Edge rapped knuckles on the alley door and announced:

‘It’s Edge, feller.’

Footfalls drew near and the door creaked open. The tall, thin man showed his hollow cheeked, sunken eyed face in the six inch wide gap, patently not glad to see his visitor for the second time tonight.

‘Need to trouble you again,’ Edge said, aware of a foul smell he identified as a mixture of stale tobacco smoke and fresh formaldehyde.

‘Hope you ain’t brought me another cadaver?’

‘It’s not your professional services I need.’

‘So what else?

‘Do you know who takes care of the livery when Rider’s out of town?’

Slocum opened the door a little wider, clamped the unlit cheroot between his yellowed teeth and shook his head. ‘It never came up before as far as I know.’

‘How’d it be if I left twenty bucks with you to give to Rider if he gets back before me?

‘Twenty bucks? What for?’

83

‘I’ve got some business to attend to outside of Dalton Springs. I need a horse and –

‘

‘Hell, just take whatever animal and stuff you need from Ephraim’s place. And if he asks about what’s missing, I’ll tell him you’ve got it. I ain’t holding any money or getting involved no other way, mister. And whatever you got to do out of town, just don’t bring me no more cadavers tonight. Nor stir up trouble to rile Shannon.’

He closed the door and shot home a bolt loudly to emphasise his determination not to open it again to any night callers and the problems they brought. And Edge started back toward the livery, satisfied he had registered his honest intent with a pillar of the local community. Once more he showed himself on the moonlit street only to cross it near the far southern end and drew no attention to himself as again he made his way over the back lots.

He picked out a bright eyed, smooth coated, strong looking bay gelding which he judged would better serve his needs than either of the horses he had brought to town from the Drayton spread.

Then he selected a saddle and accoutrements that had seen a lot of better days but were no worse than he expected to find in a small town livery stable. After he had readied the horse and secured his carpetbag to the saddlehorn he went to the cluttered desk in a rear corner of the malodorous stable. In a drawer he found a pencil. There was no unused paper to be seen, but in the untidy heap on the desk a receipted bill from the local feed and seed store was blank on the back. On this he wrote an IOU for twenty dollars and signed it. He left it, marker side up, on top of the pile. Then he led the gelding out on to the street through the front door and swung into the saddle in full view of anyone in a position to see him. The animal responded readily to his commands, clearly pleased to be outside in the chill night air, free of the confines of the livery.

Edge felt less easy in his mind than his mount appeared to be as he rode down the street, the clop of the animal’s hooves the only sound in town. He knew he was being watched and sensed that the eyes following his progress were filled with a malevolence that did not auger well for him getting away unhindered with what he planned.

84

He kept to the centre of the street to ensure he could be clearly seen by anybody who heard the horse and chose to peer out into the night: harbouring enmity or any other ill or maybe even good will toward him. Could but hope he presented the image of an innocent man going peacefully about his reasonable business. But just as he had not expected his plan of action to work without snags, it did not. When he drew level with the law office, the door was jerked open and a figure stepped on to the moon shadowed threshold.

‘Hold it right there, mister! And state your business!’

He recognised the voice of the woman he last heard inside the same building in the early hours of this morning. He said:

‘Why should my business be any of yours, lady?’

She snarled an obscenity and stepped out of the shadows. Showed herself to be a tall, solidly built blonde of about thirty with a hard set face that might be mildly attractive in different circumstances. She was dressed in masculine pants and shirt, but the swells of her generous breasts and flare of her wide hips within the confines of the dark fabric was adequate to dispel any doubt about her gender.

She had a solid double handed grip on the repeater rifle angled up at Edge from her left hip. A revolver butt jutted from a holster on the right one.

‘Because this Winchester says it is! If you wanna argue with that, you better already have made your peace with your maker! State your business, I told you!’

‘Freight.’

The scowl cut more deeply into her features. ‘What?’

‘I just told you, my business is freight.’

A harsh guffaw sounded from further down and across the street. And Edge and the woman shifted their attention to where Luke Shannon stepped out from between the batwings of the Lucky Break.

Two other men showed their heads and shoulders above the doors as Shannon came to a halt at the centre of the building-wide porch of the saloon. These would be Strange and Craig, Edge guessed.

85

‘Luke?’ Chrissy was disconcerted.

‘The tinhorn made a joke!’ Shannon was still good humoured. He stepped down off the boarding and angled across the street toward the woman in the law office doorway rather than Edge astride the gelding. An unsteadiness in his gait showed he had taken a couple more drinks that he could comfortably handle. ‘You asked his business and he told you the line of business he’s in. I sure like a man that has a sense of humour.’

He halted beside Chrissy and draped a possessive arm around her broad shoulders. Then there was less bonhomie on his rugged featured face when he added: ‘But there’s certain kinds of funny business I just can’t abide, tinhorn. So, just where do you think you’re going at this time of night, uh?’

He withdrew his arm from around the woman and stepped to the side to emphasise both hands had unobstructed access to the revolvers jutting from holsters tied down to each thigh.

‘Farm run by a feller named Drayton.’

Chrissy caught her breath. But if she had something in mind to say it was checked when she glanced at Shannon and saw the way he peered fixedly at Edge.

‘Why you going out there?’

Edge replied evenly: ‘Hopeful I can buy a wagon and team off the feller.’

‘You lost me, tinhorn.’

Chrissy remained uneasy while Shannon appeared to be totally in control, knew exactly what he was doing. Edge was aware he may have overplayed his hand but was committed to trying to finish the exchange in the naïve way he had chosen to direct it.

‘Last might I drove a wagonload of farm implements into town. Drayton took delivery and headed out to his place. Was given the job in Tucson and I liked the work. But I don’t see any future in it as a hired hand.’

‘Damnit, Luke, we gotta listen to this guy’s life story when we could be – ‘

‘You got nothing better to do unless I tell you to do it!’ Shannon growled. ‘Go ahead, tinhorn.’

86

‘Last night I asked Drayton if I could buy the wagon and team and he said he’d think about it,’ Edge lied.

‘You rolled into town awhile ago driving a wagon.’

‘A man running his own freight line needs more than just one wagon and team, feller.’

‘Kinda late at night for buying and selling anything, ain’t it?’

‘It sure is, Luke!’ Chrissy sneered, glanced at Shannon’s glowering face and compressed her lips, obviously as mistrustful of him in his deteriorating mood as she was of the even-tempered Edge.

‘I stay in town I have to pay for room and board. Figure to bed down at Drayton’s place. Man starting a new business has to cut corners with money as much as he can.’

Chrissy jerked her head to indicate the jailhouse behind her, shot another sidelong glanced at the man beside her and felt confident enough to warn: ‘It won’t cost you a cent to stay in here!’

‘Hell, go about your business, tinhorn,’ Shannon growled sourly, like the final glow of too much liquor had been doused by the start of an inevitable hangover.

‘Much obliged, feller.’

‘And as one ex-con to another, best of luck to you.’

Edge tipped his hat and tapped his heels against the animal’s flanks to start the gelding moving forward. There was a discernible tension in the horse that seemed to signal he would welcome a command for a gallop to rid himself of the staleness of too long in the livery.

But the rider held him on a tight rein even though he was eager to put some distance between himself and the couple silhouetted in the dimly lit law office doorway: as suspicious as the woman of the man’s darkening attitude.

But a sudden spurt might be misinterpreted as an aggressive move and trigger an instinctive violent response. Then he heard the law office door close and looked back, saw both Shannon and his woman had gone: registered also that Strange and Craig were no longer watching from the saloon’s batwinged entrance.

87

Just a few windows showed cracks of light and he knew from being in countless small country towns over the years that the early to bed-early to rise principle was a general rule that applied in most communities like Dalton Springs.

But he doubted there was much sleep being had in the darkened houses of this town tonight: the citizens too concerned by how it had been taken over by a murderous element and deeply worried about the outcome.

He was no longer conscious of being watched by troubled eyes but he figured that anyone who heard the gelding’s slow progress and peered covertly out around a drape or shutter would wonder about him.

Another stranger in town. Not one of Shannon’s men, yet a survivor of the violent jailbreak. Who was allowed to come and go from Dalton Springs with apparent impunity. And who had been seen to shoot down a man in cold blood.

Did they envy him? Were they suspicious of him? Reproachful that if he was not with Shannon then he should be against the man? So ought to be prepared to help the law abiding people of Dalton Springs get rid of the lawbreakers?

He had ridden far enough southward to reach the front of the Raine house when his train of inconsequential thoughts was interrupted by muffled noise from behind him. The subdued sounds of surreptitious movement that caused an icy chill to spread from the nape of his neck to the base of his spine: produced a brief paralysis that held him unnaturally erect in the saddle.

There had always been a chance Shannon was toying with him: that he knew what had happened to Drayton from being out at the man’s spread. Had recognised the wagon and team Edge drove into town from seeing the rig and horses at the farm. But it had amused his twisted mind to play a waiting game until he had taken his fill of that kind of diversion. Was now about to indulge in evil enjoyment of a different kind. Edge turned his head slowly to peer back up the length of the street. Let a rasping sigh escape pursed lips as the rigidity of fear drained from his muscles and he reined in his mount. Wheeled the compliant gelding sideways-on across the street: the better to watch fresh trouble start to brew in Dalton Springs.

Four men were filing out across the moonlit centre of the street at the north end of town: coming from between the building next door but one to the livery and the 88

schoolhouse opposite. Then they began to advance southward at a measured pace, spaced out in a line with three feet or so between each man.

As yet they were still too far off for Edge to see if he recognised any of them: got only a general impression of men who were neither particularly young nor very old. Dressed in dark clothing without fancy ornaments. Each with a revolver clutched in a hand hanging low at his right side, muzzle aimed at the hard packed street surface they covered at such a deliberate pace.

They exchanged no words and wore no spurs nor anything else that gave audible warning of their progress except for the scrape of booted feet on the street.

‘Edge.’

He turned his head to look over a shoulder at the house behind the green picket fence.