The Quiet Gun - Edge Series 1 (24 page)

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Sanchez and Mendoza finished slaking their thirsts and the senior man hitched his horse to the rear of the wagon, climbed cautiously up on to the seat and unwound the reins from around the brake lever.

The younger, junior Federale officer swung gingerly into his saddle and moved his mount to where he could take up the lead line of the first horse in the string. He looked down at where Edge continued to sit on his haunches and accused in sour toned Spanish:

‘You will be more careful who you do business with in future, eh?’ He brushed fingertips across the stock of the rifle which jutted from his saddle boot. ‘The gun, it does not know who is guilty and who is innocent when the man behind the weapon does not care?’

Mendoza glanced disdainfully at Edge and growled an insult, cracked the reins over the backs of the team and shouted a command. Then the wagon jerked out of inertia and rolled forward, steered into a tight turn to head south as Edge offered an even toned response to the senior man.

‘Adios, Senor
McCall!’ Sanchez yelled as he spurred his mount forward and the horses in the string started tentatively after him.

Edge continued to remain hunkered down against the wall, chewing on a final mouthful of biscuit that tasted as dry as desert sand while his throat refused to produce further moistening saliva. Peered after the departing wagon and horses and men as he moved a hand in front of his face to disperse the dust raised by wheels and hooves. Then became aware of McCall standing in the doorway beside him when the lawman said wearily:

‘I don’t know too much Spanish, Edge. But it seemed to me the last thing Mendoza said to you wasn’t exactly complimentary?’

Edge worked his back against the wall and came slowly upright, spat out some gritty remains of the biscuit and took a swig of water from the canteen to wash down what was left.

McCall prompted as they both continued to gaze southward: ‘And you didn’t sound like you gave as good as you got?’

‘I guess you’d call it an exchange of colourful language, feller,’ Edge said as he looked down at the dried bloodstains on the sun baked ground where seven men had been murdered.

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‘Uh?’

‘Mendoza said he thought I was a yellow bastard. And I told him I know for sure I’m feeling like one blue sonofabitch.’

154

CHAPTER • 18

_________________________________________________________________________

EDGE AND McCall pulled out of
Caja Fuerte
within a few minutes of Sanchez and
Mendoza leaving. Started a grimly taciturn ride through the first day of the return to Dalton Springs.

Both of them were wearied by a night without sleep, but the lawman’s fatigue was made worse, Edge suspected, by the draining burden of guilt he carried because of the part he played in the wanton killing instigated by the two Mexican government men. The next morning, soon after they started out from night camp, they talked for the first time of matters unconnected with the daily routine of cooking, eating, lighting fires and attending to the horses.

It was McCall who opened the exchange as they rode side by side at a measured pace when he said: ‘You sure slept well last night.’

‘I feel rested well enough.’

‘Like a baby was how you slept. I know that, on account of how it seemed I spent more of the time awake than sleeping, even though I was dog tired. Sleeping is never usually a problem for me.’

‘It’ll pass in time, maybe.’

‘It was those last two guys going down that got to me. After you’d yelled out how they weren’t armed. And I could see they had their hands way up high.’

McCall drew cigar smoke deep into his lungs as he peered fixedly into the middle distance. Edge, leading the pack horse, checked the line was firmly hitched: uneasy with the other man’s present need to talk of his remorse about past actions.

‘One of the other men, though . . . At the start, he sure had a Colt in his fist. Maybe you didn’t see that from where you were? Nice and safe up there in the bell tower?’ He gave the remark a degree of challenge as he swung his tired eyed gaze to meet that of the impassive Edge.

‘I guess I was pretty safe up there,’ Edge shrugged as he made the admission in an easy tone. ‘And you’re right, I didn’t see any of those fellers draw until after the shooting 155

started. Nor did Sanchez and Mendoza, it seemed to me. On account of they were too busy trading signals to get the killing started.’

McCall was ready to press the point, but after he had held Edge’s glinting eyed gaze for perhaps two further seconds, he let it go with a nod. Then a sigh, that made a soft whistling sound between his compressed lips.

He shrugged. ‘Okay, so that’s what you say you saw. And I know what I saw. But after the shooting got started, I wasn’t going to stand idle, mister. I had to protect myself

– and I had a duty to back up by fellow peace officers?’

His quizzical tone and expression placed a query at the end of the contention.

‘Sure, feller. And I guess the only way I could have stopped what happened was to gun down all three of you.’

‘Yeah, I suppose so.’

‘But it’s no good being smart after the event. That changes nothing.’

‘Yeah.’

They rode on at the same easy pace through the rising heat of the morning with just an occasional exchange on subjects unrelated to events at
Caja Fuerte.
Took a brief meal break shortly after midday and then started out on their back trail again, each for most of the time choosing still to keep his own counsel. Made ground as quickly as was wise in the heat of the day and then, at McCall’s instigation, pressed on far into the cold night before they halted and made camp.

McCall claimed he was too tired to feel hunger, but as the lawman lay under his blankets on the other side of the flickering fire, Edge could sense his watching eyes while he ate.

And eventually McCall asked if there was enough coffee left in the pot for him. Edge poured him a cup and took it to him as he sat up and leaned his back against a rock. He swallowed gratefully then muttered bitterly:

‘You know, I really can’t abide lawmen who aren’t honest at doing their job.’

‘You’re talking about Sanchez and Mendoza again, feller?’

‘Who else?’

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‘They’re probably straight enough for the most part. Just don’t believe in taking any unnecessary chances. Prefer to do things the safe and easy way. And riding herd on that many prisoners at the same time as guarding the weapons shipment across a big piece of bandit country . . . That would have been quite a job for two men. Transporting a heap of corpses and the guns and shells had to be much less trouble.’

McCall grimaced in the firelight. ‘Yeah, I guess so. But today I did a lot of thinking and I figure you’re right. They planned that cold blooded killing of those guys. Signalled to each other and started to blast away for no reason except the one you’ve just given. In my book, that makes them lousy lawmen.’

Edge said with a shrug: ‘It could be the beatings they took in the Dalton Springs jailhouse coloured their thinking, feller. Luke Shannon gave them a real bad time, so they were in no mood to – ‘

‘That’s another thing,’ McCall curt in sourly. ‘I’m damn sure they lied about the way they lost track of Shannon and his bunch, too. Men who track as well as they do, they saw right enough where those three guys and the whore split from the rest. They just didn’t want to lose any firepower so they kept quiet.’

‘Shannon’s never been my concern,’ Edge said warily and yawned as the wearying effects of an extra long day in the saddle began to make themselves felt. ‘Seems to me it was just coincidence he showed up at the Drayton place and cut himself in as a middle man between Franklinn and the bandits. He didn’t have any part in how I was played for a sucker from the start.’

McCall said grudgingly: ‘Like you know, mister, I’ve never made any secret that I don’t trust you on account of how good you are with guns. But I have to admit I got respect for you for how you’ve stuck to what you said about righting the wrong you were suckered into.

‘There’s just Ezra Franklinn up in Tucson left.’

McCall seemed not to have listened to Edge’s reply then mused absently: ‘Nobody’s perfect. But I’ve always tried to do my job the most honest way I can since the people of Dalton Springs voted me into the office of sheriff.’

‘Good for you, feller.’ Edge yawned pointedly.

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McCall finished his coffee, set the empty cup down but made no move to shift away from the rock to stretch out under his blankets again as he asked:

‘You heard anything different about me from anyone in town?’

‘Nobody’s spoken a bad word against you that I’ve heard, feller.’

‘But . . ?’

‘What?’

‘It sounded like you were doing to say something else. Nobody’s spoke badly of me, but . . ?’

‘No.’

McCall hardened his tone. ‘You like to play your cards close to your chest, don’t you, Edge? And figure yourself for a real wise guy?’

‘I’ve come up against some who are smarter. A lot who’ve been dumber.’ Fatigue made it easy for him to remain calm in response to the other man’s sudden desire to pick a fight.’

‘And me? What are you saying you think I am?’

‘If I planned on saying anything, I guess it could be that I think you try to be as good a lawman as you can be, sheriff.’

‘Damn big of you.’ There was heavy sarcasm mixed in with McCall’s latent anger now. ‘Seems to me there was another one of those
buts
at the end of that?’

Edge sighed and said evenly: ‘Okay, sheriff:
but
you acted real dumb over Mrs Raine.’

He rose to his feet, moved around to the other side of the fire and stooped to pick up McCall’s empty cup. Suddenly was transfixed when the lawman thrust out a hand and fastened a painful grip on to his wrist.

A glowering scowl showed on McCall’s exhausted face in the dying flames of the fire when he demanded hoarsely: ‘You want to explain yourself, mister?’

Edge said evenly but with a dangerous glint in his narrowed eyes: ‘Tell you what I will do: if you don’t let go of me I’ll cut you some place that’ll make it so you won’t get any urge to act like a fool over any woman ever again.’

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He powered half upright and streaked his free hand to the nape of his neck. Was half a second away from drawing the razor out of the pouch when McCall – forced up into an awkward position by the abrupt move – released his grip.

Edge lowered his arm to his side and brought across the other hand: massaged the wrist where the lawman’s hold had briefly blocked the circulation and said:

‘But it’s not any of my business what you and your deputy’s wife were to each other before Shannon killed him. Or what your plans are now she’s a widow. You wanted to know my opinion and I gave it. Only thing that concerns me about Mrs Raine is that she owes me the second half of the fee she agreed to pay me.’

‘You can’t hold her to that!’ McCall snarled.

‘I sure can. And I want restitution for the horse and gear that she stole. Which belonged to Ephraim Rider. He said you’d probably cover that?’

‘Out of county funds,’ McCall growled. ‘Because Kitty was engaged in law business when she took . . . when she
borrowed
that horse, is how I see it.’

Edge moved back around to the other side of the fire where his blankets were spread and his carpetbag positioned to form a pillow. He made himself as comfortable as the hard ground allowed, then sought to empty his mind of the final dregs of anger at McCall as he pointed out: ‘Seems to me it’s taking that lady one hell of a long time to complete that law business, feller.’

‘Yeah.’ McCall was pensively morose instead of irritable. Then explained his attitude:

‘And that’s another reason I haven’t been sleeping so good. How come the army never showed up? Either something happened to Kitty before she could get to Fort Reed or . . .’

‘Or she rode on by.’

‘Damn you, Edge!’ The lawman’s curse lacked conviction. ‘You got some kind of gift that allows you to see into other men’s minds.’

‘She wouldn’t be the first good looking young woman who felt trapped in a small country town and picked the most likely feller to take her away from there. Then ran out on him as soon as he’d served his purpose.’

McCall felt unable to come to her defence or elected not to do so. For his part, Edge was content to let the matter rest there and get some much needed sleep. 159

It was another less than gregarious ride the next day at the end of which they emerged from the hills to the south west of Dalton Springs and entered town without seeing any sign of a cavalry troop.