Death Waits at Sundown (2 page)

Death Waits at Sundown

Chapter One

L
YNN TAYLOR
rocketed
into Pioneer leaving a hurricane of dust in his path. He skidded his buckskin
stallion to a stop before the sheriff's office and leaped down to stride with
loud boots up the steps and through the door.

Pioneer's denizens had been startled at his abrupt
appearance. The men in the sheriff's office stared at Lynn and then shot
questions at each other.

Lynn Taylor's square jaw was set and his eyes were
chunks of ice. His
batwings
were thick with the mud and dust of long travel and
his stubble growth of beard was whitened with
alkali
. But on each thigh there
gleamed clean guns, tied down—and those guns and thongs meant Texas.

“Which one of you gents is McCloud?” said Lynn Taylor,
dropping his
quirt
with a crack upon the desk.

The man behind it sat forward with a humorless,
confident grin and pushed his white
sombrero
up from his sweaty brow. “I'm
McCloud.” And his stare plainly said, “What are you going to do about it?”

“I'm Lynn Taylor. Where's my brother?”

McCloud leaned back again, though the others in the room
were still tensed and wary. “He's where he belongs, fellah. You wasn't thinkin'
of doin' anything about it, was you?”

“I kind of had that in mind,” said Lynn, scanning the
others in the room and labeling them as hard cases. “When is the trial?”

McCloud laughed easily. “Looks like your information
come late, Taylor. The trial's over and Frank Taylor swings tomorrow at
sundown.”

“Maybe,” said Lynn, looking McCloud over. “I'm askin' to
see him.”

McCloud hesitated and then he shrugged. “All right, Texas. Can't be any harm in that. But get this straight. The
vigilantes
has things in hand—
and
we don't want no outside interference.
”

He got up and took a ring of keys down from the wall.
Two of the others stood and swaggered carelessly after the big Texan. It was
dark in the cells. Ahead a cot creaked and Frank Taylor rose to eye the coming
party with suspicion.

Worry and two weeks of confinement had thinned and
blanched his young face. His young body was braced and surly as he waited for
the head of the vigilantes. And then he gave a glad start. “Lynn!”

“Think I'd leave you in the lurch?” said the Texan.
“Open it up, McCloud. I want a talk with the kid.”

“You say what you've got to say right here in my
presence,” stated McCloud. “We didn't go to all the trouble of pickin' up this
precious brother of yours just to let him get away from us again.”

Lynn barely glanced at the
vigilante chief. He moved up to the bars. “I came as soon as I got your letter,
kid. What are they doin' to you?”

“It's a frame!” said Frank Taylor. “I'm here because I
was
sap
enough to build up my spread to a point where somebody else wanted it.
I'm a
fall guy
for a set of jobs I never pulled. You got to believe me, Lynn. I
didn't rob nothing. If you want to see the guy that did it, turn around and
look.”

“Shut up,” said McCloud. “Nobody'll listen to a lie like
that.”

“They'd listen if they weren't scared of you!” said
Frank. “Lynn, you got to set this thing to rights. I swing tomorrow night. I didn't
do a thing!”

Lynn looked at the eager,
pleading face of his younger brother. “Sure, I know that, kid.”

“Time's up,” said McCloud uneasily.

“Don't worry about anything, kid,” said the Texan,
touching the hand on the bars very briefly. He turned and walked back along the
corridor, the outer cell door clanging behind him.

In the office again, McCloud looked carefully at Lynn. “Listen, Texas, I wouldn't advise you to start anything. You ain't got any friends
in Pioneer.”

“Have you?” said Lynn meaningly.

McCloud laughed. “Ask around. Your brother is full of
locoweed
. He stopped the
Overland
seven times and took the weight off its
springs. The last time he killed the driver. And plenty of cows have turned up
missing since he started to increase his spread. I might,” he added, “go as far
as to say that a Taylor would show good sense if he pulled out of
Pioneer—tonight.”

“Yeah?” said Lynn.

“Yeah,” said McCloud.

“Thanks for the advice,” said Lynn. He casually
inspected the five gunmen who lounged in chairs around the walls and each
returned his stare silently.

Lynn walked out, conscious of
the eyes on his back. He took his buckskin's bridle and led him toward the
Silver Dollar Stable for a well-earned rubdown and feed of oats.

The stableman offered to take the rein but Lynn withheld it, preferring to stall the buckskin himself. Glitter, though tired from the
wearing ride, might still have enough energy left to make mincemeat out of a
careless
hostler
.

Lynn poured a can of oats into
the manger and went to work with sponge and brush. He was so deep in thought
that he was startled when a stranger spoke behind him.

“You're Lynn Taylor, ain't you?”

Lynn turned to see a
weather-beaten, sun-dried westerner whose leather vest bore evidence of having
had something pinned over the heart.

“I'm Hawkins,” said the stranger. “Six weeks ago I was
the sheriff around here—but that was before McCloud and his crowd began to yell
for law and order and got the townspeople behind them. If I don't make a
mistake, Taylor, you're thinkin' of doin' something to keep them from stringin'
up your brother.”

“Yeah, I did have some dim idea along those lines,” said
Lynn, continuing his work.

“I've heard of you,” said Hawkins.

Lynn stabbed a questioning
glance at the old man.

“We hear about most of the Texas gunfighters here in
Arizony,” continued Hawkins. “But I didn't think you'd get here in time. As it
is, you're too late even now. You couldn't break him out. There are fifteen
men, all of them good, on that damned vigilance committee. I mean good with
their guns. And McCloud's got a reputation up north. He'll own Pioneer in
another month and the fools around here yell their heads off for him. Y'ain't
thinkin' of standin' up and blazin' it out with him, are you?”

“Maybe.”

“Look, Taylor, I ain't tryin' to be nosy. It's good
business for me to give you a hand. I don't rate in this place now. So many
crimes came off while I was in office that it took two clerks to file the
reports on them.”

“And you couldn't stop them from happening?”

“Takes more than one old man with a gun to stop a man
like McCloud. If you and me teamed up, maybe I could get my job back and remove
McCloud's danger to this town.”

Having finished the rubdown, Lynn wiped his hands and
then extended his right to Hawkins. “Okay, but you got to do things my way.
That all right?”

“Well . . .”

“Why hesitate?”

“I've heard your reputation, after all.”

“You never heard of me shootin' a man in the back,
Hawkins.”

“That's so.”

“And if you don't think I'll move heaven and earth to
keep my kid brother from swingin', you're crazy.”

“What's your idea?”

“Is there a stage coming in here tonight?”

“One due at eleven o'clock.”

“Will it have anything on it?”

“Regular dispatch box. Maybe two—three thousand. Say, Taylor, you must be loco! How could that help your kid brother?”

“Never mind that. The point is, are you willing to help
me rob that stage if there's no shooting?”

“If . . .”

“You're either with me or you're not. You want your job
back and unless I get killed in this bargain, it's yours. Are you going to help
me rob that stage or ain't you?”

“All right,” said Hawkins, doubtfully, “but by God, I
never thought I'd have to commit robbery to establish law and order.”

Chapter Two

A
T
nine o'clock, Lynn
Taylor met Hawkins on the corner by the bank where the shadows were deep. The
street was streaked by
lights
from the saloon windows and the whirr of wheels
was commingled with tin-panny pianos and half-drunken arguments.

Lynn looked at the gallows which
had been built in the town square and gave a slight shudder. Against the palely
rising moon the indistinct silhouette was easily imagined to already hold its
prey. That very afternoon had seen the completion of the
thirteenth step
.

“I'll starve that thing or go down tryin',” said Lynn,
half to himself. “Why the hell do men get such ideas, Hawkins?”

“Well, there's such a thing as law and order, Texas. Or maybe you ain't heard.”

“Law and order?” spat Lynn. “You ready to high-tail it?”

“Now look,” said Hawkins, “I ain't exactly squeamish but
if McCloud ever gets an idea who done this thing, he'd hang us too. 'Course
it's a good idea. If there's a robbery while your kid brother is in jail, then
it'll look fishy that he done the others. But maybe ever'body will see through
that.”

“We're takin' a chance,” said Lynn. “By the way, is that
'dobe
house across from the gallows there where Fanner McCloud lives?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, let's go. You get a couple horses off that
hitchrack . . .”

“My God!” said Hawkins in alarm. “You ain't goin' to
steal horses too!”

“Why not? My buckskin needs a rest. If you won't then
here I go.”

And he suited action to the word and returned shortly
leading a dun and a roan whose owners were getting loudly drunk in the Diamond
Palace Saloon.

Hawkins mounted with misgivings. But if the truth be
known he was a little frightened of this nerveless, ice-eyed devil who had
blown in from the tumultuous south.

An hour later they were deep in the darkness of a canyon
along which ran the stage road to Pioneer. The wind was soughing lonesomely
through the scrub pines and far off an owl added his mournful dirge to the
spooky scene.

Hawkins shuddered. “What do you want me to do?”

Lynn glanced at a tall black
rock which loomed over the roadway. “I'm going up there. You stand easy in that
clump of brush ahead and once I drop on the stage, you swerve in and pull in
the lead hosses. And don't miss because we don't want no runaway.”

“All right,” said Hawkins faintly.

Lynn hid his mount in a patch of
trees and then crept up to the top of the tall rock. He lay down to watch the
road to the east.

The wind whispered and rustled his neckerchief and the
owl, scenting trouble, soared away on silent wings to hoot one final time in
the dim distance. After that it was quiet. Lynn could see nothing of the
ex-sheriff and could only hope that the man would do his appointed job.
Otherwise there might be trouble. This road was narrow and at the curves the
drop into the stream below was something close to a hundred feet.

Pondering over his future courses to keep from getting
too tense with waiting, Lynn passed the time. At long last he heard a rumble of
wheels and the rhythm of hoofs and jingle of harness. In a few minutes the
headlamp of the stage jogged into view. Because of the treacherous road the
driver was taking it easy. The messenger was almost asleep, gun loosely against
his chest and chin down.

Lynn crept to the very edge
above the road. The lead horses passed under him. Then the next team and the
third. The moment had arrived. With the box just below him he leaped. For an
instant he felt that he had waited too long and would hit the road. But before
the thought was wholly formed his boots slammed against the top of the stage
and he lunged for the backs of the two men.

The instant he struck, training made the messenger whirl
about. He was in no position to use his gun except for a butt thrust. He
stabbed hard. Lynn snatched the weapon and pulled. He stood the messenger
straight up and before the man would let go, Lynn sent a right crashing to his
jaw. The fellow staggered, relinquishing his hold to grab for his assailant.

The driver, hands full of reins, sent a white-eyed
glance at Lynn and sought to disentangle a hand so that he could draw.

Lynn had the messenger's coat
front and the fellow flailed with wild fists while they tottered on the
precarious footing. Letting go with one hand, Lynn took aim. His blow was
perfect. The messenger went limp and Lynn dropped him down to the confinement
of the baggage rack.

Lynn snatched the weapon and pulled. He stood the
messenger straight up and before the man would let go,
Lynn sent a right crashing to his jaw.

By this time the driver was ready, all reins in one
hand, foot hard on the brake and fingers wrapped around his Colt. He almost
completed the draw before Lynn seized him and flung him outward over the rocky
ground. The man strove to save himself and the Colt clattered to the dusty
road. Lynn snatched him back again and banged his head against the edge of the
seat. The driver sighed and relaxed. Lynn straightened him out.

It was the work of a moment to shoot the dispatch box
off and into the dirt.

Hawkins had the heads of the lead team and had brought
them to a quiet stop.

Lynn signaled with a wave of his
hand. The driver was coming back to life and Lynn wasted no time. He dropped to
earth, scooped up the box and sprinted up the slope to his waiting horse. He
forked leather
and dug spur to race down the bank toward Hawkins, who was already
moving rapidly away.

Behind them a passenger sent a wild shot with a hopeful
oath. The messenger came around and pumped his magazine empty. But Lynn and
Hawkins were gone.

Lynn stripped the bandana from
his face and flung it to the trail. He laid on with his quirt.

“I hope you know what you're doin',” said Hawkins. “Men
have hung for less than this.”

“I hope I do too,” said Lynn.

“You mean you ain't sure?”

“Is anybody ever sure of anything? Come on, fellah, ride
or them delirium tremens of yours'll come true for certain.”

An hour later, Hawkins and Lynn Taylor were part of the
astounded crowd who heard the driver's lurid tale of the holdup.

“An' so I shoots at him point blank but he just laughs
at me. He beats me over the head with his gun and grabs the box. . . .”

Lynn grinned a little to
himself.

Somebody in the crowd said, “Hell, is that goin' to
start all over again? I thought we had the ringleader.”

McCloud was on the high boardwalk before the saloon, his
narrow face half alight from the oil lantern on the stage. “It's some of his
pals, that's all. Don't get nervous, gents. We got the situation in hand. And
when they see us hangin' Frank Taylor, they'll know we mean business.”

“Who do you think done it?” said somebody else.

“I got my ideas,” said McCloud, looking down at Lynn who
stood by the stage wheel.

Hawkins whispered, “Maybe we better beat it. He's got
men enough to do anything he wants and . . .”

“Shut up,” said Lynn. “You'll play this thing through or
I'll tip McCloud it was you.”

“You wouldn't!” gasped Hawkins.

“Sure I would,” said Lynn with a pleasant smile. “Now
take it easy.”

“Sure. Sure,” said Hawkins, his teeth beginning to
chatter. “Sure, I'll take it easy.”