Paradise Bend Part 45

Loudon perceived that the sheriff, while not precisely drunk, was yet not sober. His gestures were free and his language freer.

There were at least a score of men in the saloon, and they were all Block's close friends. They muttered among themselves at Loudon's entrance. The story of Block's tarring and feathering had lost nothing in transmission.

Loudon and Laguerre made their way to the far end of the bar and ordered drinks. With the wall at their backs they were reasonably secure from treachery. The Sheriff of Sunset nodded to the two men from the Bend and continued to shout encouragement to the jigging citizen. Finally, the dancer succ.u.mbed to exhaustion. The sheriff slid from the table.

"Well, I got to be wrigglin' along," he said. "See yuh later."

"Not yet, Sheriff, not yet," protested a tall man with wolfish features. "Have another drink first. Just one. Step up, gents, step up. Name yore poison."

"No, not another one," said the sheriff, but his tone lacked conviction.

He had another, two in fact. Again he started for the door. But the wolf-faced man barred the way.

"Sheriff," he wheedled, "what yuh say to a little game? Just one little game. Only one. Yuh can't be in such a all-fired hurry yuh can't stop for just one."

"I got to get Rufe Cutting," said the sheriff. "I ain't got no time for poker."

"Now, looky here, Sheriff," coaxed the tempter, "yuh'll stand just as much show o' gettin' Rufe right here in Farewell as yuh will anywhere else. What's the use o' ridin' the range an' workin' yoreself to death, when yuh can stay here cool and comf'table?"

"Aw, shut up! I'm a-goin'."

"Well, o' course, if yo're broke----"

"I ain't broke. What do----"

"No offence, Sheriff. No harm meant. None whatever."

"I'll play yuh one game an' that's all. C'mon."

The sheriff played more than one game, for he won the first. He continued to win. He thought no more of Rufe Cutting. And he sat with his back toward the doorway. Which position is the most eminently unsafe of any that an officer of the law may a.s.sume. Once, during that time, Laguerre suggested to Loudon that they go elsewhere. But Loudon had whispered:

"Wait. There's somethin' crooked here."

So they waited, Loudon watching for he knew not what piece of evil, Laguerre mystified but thoroughly prepared for eventualities. It was noticeable that, excepting the card-players, the men in the room were afflicted with a strange restlessness. They moved aimlessly about; they hitched their chairs to new positions; they conversed by fits and starts; they threw frequent glances toward the doorway.

Suddenly it happened.

A squat-bodied man with bat ears appeared on the threshold. As at a signal, the three men playing with the sheriff flung themselves down on the floor. The hand of the squat-bodied man shot up and forward. A revolver cracked twice, and the Sheriff of Sunset County quietly crumpled across the card-table.

Through the swirling smoke of the discharge two red streaks flashed as the six-shooters of Loudon and Laguerre barked in unison. The squat-bodied man fell forward on his face.

Head and shoulders on the floor of the saloon, his legs on the sidewalk, he lay motionless. Side by side, the souls of the sheriff and his murderer sped homeward.

The habitues of the Happy Heart unhurriedly deserted their points of vantage against the wall, on the floor, or behind the bar, and gathered about the corpse of the squat-bodied man. They gazed upon the body for a brief s.p.a.ce of time, then, one by one, they stepped carefully over it and departed.

"Gents," squeaked the perturbed bartender, "would yuh mind goin' out in the street? I--I'm goin' to close up."

"It's only the mornin'," said Loudon. "Why close up?"

"I'm sick. I got indigestion right bad," the bartender explained.

Indeed, the bartender looked quite ill. His complexion had turned a pasty yellow and his teeth were clicking together.

"Yuh look right bad," agreed Loudon. "But yo're mistaken about closin'

up. Yo're a-goin' to keep open. Telescope, let's get the sheriff spread out right."

They pushed two tables together. Then they lifted the sheriff's body and laid it on the tables. They unbuckled the spurs, straightened the limbs, covered the still face with the neck handkerchief, and put the hat over the gaping wound in the chest where the bullets had come out.

When they had done all that they could they needed a drink. The s.h.i.+vering bartender served them.

"For Gawd's sake, gents!" he pleaded. "Block'll be here in a minute!

Go out in the street, won't yuh?"

"'Block'll be here,'" repeated Loudon. "How do yuh know he'll be here?"

The bartender began to stutter. His complexion became yellower.

Loudon turned to Laguerre.

"Talks funny, don't he?" he observed. "Can't say nothin' but 'I.'"

Reaching across the bar, he seized the bartender by the shoulder.

"Say, fellah," he continued, "how do yuh know so much about Block?"

"I--I--I----" sputtered the bartender.

"I thought Block had left town. How do yuh know he's back?"

The bartender changed his tune.

"Ow! Ow!" he yelled. "Yo're hurtin' me! My shoulder! Ow!"

"I'll hurt yuh worse if yuh don't spit out what yuh know about Block an' his doin's."

"He--he--oh, I can't! I can't!" wailed the bartender.

"Block sh.o.r.e has you an' the rest o' these prairie-dogs buffaloed. I just guess yes. Well, yuh needn't tell me. I'm a pretty good guesser myself. Telescope, let's you'n me go call on Block."

"I am you," said Laguerre, and slid through a rear window. Loudon followed. They hastened along the rear of the line of houses and crouched beneath the windowsill of a small two-room shack at the end of the street. There were sounds of a hot discussion in progress in the front room.

"Guess he's home!" whispered Loudon. "Might as well go in."

Gently they opened the back door, and very quietly they tiptoed across the floor of the back room to a closed door.

"We've got to hurry," a voice was saying.

"Sh.o.r.e," said the voice of Sheriff Block. "You three cover 'em through the back window when me an' the rest come in the front door. Yuh know there won't be no fuss if yore fingers slip on the trigger. I'd rather bury a man any day than arrest him."

With a quick motion Loudon flung open the door.