Charles West - Lawless Prairie

After introducing the deputy marshal to Grady, he filled him in on Clayton’s reason for being in town. “I’m lookin’ for four men,” Clayton told him. He produced a sketch from a prison photograph of Clell Ballenger. “This is one of ’em. He’s with three other fellers.” Before Grady responded, Zach read the recognition in the deputy’s eyes.

“I seen ’em!” Grady exclaimed. “They was here! There was four strangers settin’ at a table in the saloon last night. I asked Ernie if he knew ’em, and he said he’d never seen ’em before.” He took another look at the picture on the Wanted poster. “That feller was one of ’em, all right.”

Clayton took over. Checking with the dining room staff, he learned that a man resembling the sketch and another man had come down earlier for breakfast, but there were only the two. A few minutes later, the three lawmen talked to the desk clerk and were told that the two gentlemen had already checked out of their room. “I’d best run by the office and get a couple of rifles just in case,” the sheriff said.

“I need to find out which way they headed,” Clayton said. “You and Grady meet me back here. I’m goin’ down to the stable. They musta had their horses there. Maybe I can find out where they went.” He hurried back to his horse, a real sense of urgency driving him now that he knew he was so close behind the fugitives and might have just missed them. He told himself that he should have checked the saloons before going to see Popwell.

Charging down to the stables at a gallop, Clayton pulled the sorrel to a sliding stop at the stable door to be met by the perturbed owner. “Yeah, there was four fellers here. They got their horses early this mornin’, at least three of ’em did. One of ’em snuck outta here last night without payin’ for board or grain. I got my money outta the other three, but they wouldn’t stand good for the other feller. Said they didn’t even know him—the lyin’ bastards. I shoulda knowed they was outlaws.”

“Which way did they go when they left here?” Clayton asked.

“Hell, I don’t know,” he retorted in disgust, then, “They just rode off toward town.”

“Much obliged,” Clayton said, and climbed back in the saddle. That wasn’t really much help, but maybe they weren’t in a hurry to leave town. Maybe they might still be around. A saloon would be the best place to look.

Riding back toward the hotel, he saw Jim and his deputy riding hard to meet him. “Take a look at this!” the sheriff yelled as he rode up beside Clayton. “It was under my office door.”

Clayton grabbed the piece of paper Popwell held out to him, and quickly read the brief warning: The bank is fixing to get robbed this morning. “What the hell . . . ?” Clayton started, and all three turned at once to look in the direction of the bank at the corner of the street. It seemed peaceful enough, but there were three horses at the rail out front. He didn’t wait to talk about it. Turning the sorrel’s head in that direction, he gave it a sharp kick. There wasn’t time to puzzle over who might have left the note under the door. It could be a ruse, somebody’s idea of having fun with the young deputy while the sheriff was off hunting. Whatever, it deserved immediate attention.

The three galloped up to the bank. Grady, anxious to make his reputation as a lawman, came out of the saddle before his horse was fully stopped, and before Clayton could caution him, charged through the door. He was met by a .44 slug that caught him in the shoulder, spinning him around to drop on the step beside the door. Clayton and Popwell dived for cover, the sheriff at the corner of the building and Clayton on the walk beside a front window.

“The next one in that door gets the same thing!” Clell Ballenger called out.

“Where in hell did they come from?” Yancey demanded. He turned to confront the bank manager, who was lying facedown on the floor beside his two employees. “You got some kind of signal?” He pressed the barrel of his pistol hard against the banker’s skull. “How’d they know what was goin’ on in here?”

“I swear,” the banker pleaded, “there’s no signal. I don’t know how they knew.”

“It don’t matter a helluva lot how they found out,” Clell said. “The fact is they’re out there.” He called back over his shoulder to Skinner, who was busy stuffing money into their saddlebags, “Hurry up in there!” To Yancey, who was covering the hostages, he said, “Keep your eye on ’em.” Moving up to the front wall, he eased up close to the door. “Hey, out there!” he yelled. “You hear me?”

“Yeah, we hear you,” Popwell answered while watching Clayton crawl by the window to help Grady move to safety.

“Well then, you’d better listen real good,” Ballenger called back. “I’ve got three of your fine citizens layin’ on the floor in here, and unless you want a bullet in the head of each one of ’em, you’d better clear out of there. Leave them horses right where they are, and start walkin’.” When there was no immediate response from the lawmen outside, he threatened, “I mean right now. Clear that damn street or I’m gonna shoot the first one.”

Popwell looked at Clayton for direction. Clayton nodded his head. “All right,” the sheriff said. “We’re goin’. Ain’t no need for anybody else to get hurt.”

Inside the bank, Ballenger watched as the sheriff and Clayton helped the wounded deputy walk. As they backed up the street, Clell got a better look at their faces. Suddenly he blurted, “It’s that son of a bitch! I know that bastard. That’s that damn marshal, Clayton. I owe him!” He stuck his pistol out the door and fired a couple of shots that missed all three men. They had already moved too far away for accuracy with a pistol. He cursed his luck.

“You ’bout done?” Yancey called back to Skinner.

“I’m done,” Skinner replied, and entered the lobby from the manager’s office with two stuffed saddlebags, one on each shoulder.

“We’ve got to get the hell outta here,” Yancey said. “Clell, the street clear?”

“I’d like to stick around here till I shoot that bastard,” Clell responded.

“Gawdammit, Clell,” Yancey shot back. “To hell with that marshal. I want to live to spend some of this money. Is the street clear? Can you still see ’em?”

“No,” Clell answered, “they’re gone. I don’t see nobody on the street now.”

“All right, let’s move!” Yancey roared. “They won’t be gone long.” He reached down and grabbed the back of the bank manager’s collar. “Come on, we’re goin’ for a little walk.” He pulled the quivering man to his feet while Ballenger stepped cautiously outside the door.

Satisfied that there was no one close enough to take a shot at them, Ballenger waved his partners on. “Bring old Mr. Moneybags out here in front of us.” He waited until Yancey shoved the frightened bank manager toward him. “Now we’ll see how much your fellow citizens think of you,” he taunted, and held the banker in front of him. “Skinner, throw them bags on the horses and untie them other horses.”

With little choice but to do as Ballenger ordered, Clayton and the sheriff hurried to reach the building at the end of the street with Grady Jacobs supported between them.

“Can you take care of him?” Clayton asked when they reached the alley between the barbershop and the undertaker. When Popwell said he could, Clayton nodded and slipped into the alley. Running as fast as he could in high-heeled boots, he sprinted behind the stores and saloons. Wishing he had his rifle instead of a pistol, he cut back up the side of the bank just in time to hear several gunshots as Skinner scattered the horses. Straining for breath, the result of not having run all-out for quite some time, he rounded the front corner of the building in time to see the three galloping away. There was time for one shot. Skinner, trailing behind the other two, was the only reasonable target. Clayton stopped running. His heart was pounding so hard from his sprint that he had to strain to hold his arm still while he aimed the pistol. The shot slammed into Skinner’s back, between his shoulder blades. He stayed in the saddle, his body flopping back and forth drunkenly for what seemed a long time before he finally keeled over sideways and slid from the saddle.