Part 4

VIII

Tesno was rousted out of bed the next morning by Ben Vickers, who had spent a good part of the night translating his troubles into arithmetic. He was waving a sheaf of papers which recorded exactly how bad things were going in terms of dollars and cents, mean feet, and work days.

Among other things, the figures spelled out what everybody knew already: with every day of hand drilling, the odds against the tunnel being finished on time went up. The huge boiler necessary to the use of compressed air still hadn't arrived at end of track. Even when it did, there would be the slow and tricky problem of dragging it forty miles into the mountains.

"What I want you to do is get down to Ellensburg and get on the telegraph," Ben said. "Find out where that thing is. And on the way, study the road. Figure out where the trouble spots are going to be. Maybe we can save time by doing some grading, building a bridge or two."

Tesno agreed grumpily, wondering why Ben couldn't send somebody else. When Ben had left, he dressed leisurely and went down to the restaurant for a late breakfast. The thought of the long ride and several days away from Tunneltown didn't appeal to him. He lingered for a time over coffee and a cigar, wondering at his own reluctance to get started, thinking that he might stop by and see Persia before he left.

He had returned to his room and was shaving when Whisky Willie came in. Willie turned a chair around backwards and straddled it.

"That Madrid p-p-protects crooks," he asserted.

Tesno beat up a lather in his shaving cup. "For instance?"

"There was this feller b-bucking the t-tiger in the P-Pink Lady. He called me over real polite and orderly and said the dealer was double-dealing and that he could prove it by the case board. Before you could say J-J-Jack R-R-Robinson, Pinky had him by one arm and a barkeep had him by the other and he was out in the s-street. Nobody paid any at-t-tention to me. I told Madrid about it. He cussed me and said we leave the dealers alone."

"Which table was this?"

"S-second from the d-door. The d-dealer's name's Cardona."

Tesno stropped his razor vigorously. "A mechanic. He uses an odd-even setup."

"A what?"

"I'll demonstrate," Tesno said. He waved the razor toward the saddlebags that hung over the foot of his bed. "There's a pack of cards in there. Get it and separate the odd cards from the even. This afternoon we'll call on Mr. Cardona."

"What we g-g-going to do?"

"Not we, _you_. I'll show you the trick. Then you'll expose Cardona and run him out of town. In order to pull it off you're going to have to be well rehearsed. Got anything to do for an hour?"

"Not till three this afternoon. I'm on d-duty from then till eight in the morning."

By the time Tesno finished shaving, Willie had the cards separated. Tesno squared up the two packets and pressed their ends together, interlacing the cards evenly.

"You shuffle like a dealer," Willie said.

"Not quite so well. A good mechanic can get a perfect dovetail. That means the odd and even cards will alternate all the way through the deck...."

* * * * *

As it turned out, the marshal was among the players at Cardona's table when Tesno entered the saloon. Pinky Bronklin gave Tesno an evil look and sent the other barkeep to wait on him. Tesno ordered a cigar and stood smoking it with his back to the bar, watching the game.

Madrid was standing behind the seated players. He was wearing the pink shirt and a black bow tie. After a few turns, he won a bet on the queen and placed another on the four. When this also came up a winner, he played the ten.

He was playing only even cards, and Cardona was letting him win. It seemed plain that he was onto the grift and was collecting a payoff. _This is going to be interesting_, Tesno thought grimly.

The marshal collected another bet, cashed his checks, and dropped his winnings into his pocket. He saw Tesno, nodded, and after an instant of hesitation came over and joined him.

"Quitting while you're ahead?" Tesno said.

"A man can beat the game sometimes if he isn't greedy," Madrid said. He signaled the barkeep. "How about the house buying a couple, cowboy?"

"Not for me," Tesno said.

The barkeep slid Madrid a bottle and glass, saying nothing. The marshal muttered an obscenity about the man's surliness and poured himself a drink.

Whisky Willie came in then. He walked straight to Cardona's table and drew himself up importantly.

"Th-th-this is a c-crooked g-g-gug-game," he announced. He had a terrible time getting the words out, and Tesno winced for him. The players looked amused and then startled. Cardona, a little bald man with a handlebar mustache, stood up. Willie went on doggedly, "I'm c-c-closing it d-down. P-pick up your b-b-buhuh-bets."

"What the devil does he think he's doing?" Madrid said.

He slammed his glass on the bar and started for the table. Tesno restrained him firmly with a hand on his shoulder. "Let's see what's on the kid's mind," he said.

Cardona was speaking to Willie, his tone jocular. "You better take a swig of that word medicine you carry and calm down."

Willie slapped the layout with his palm. "R-right n-now! This g-game is closed, Cardona. And you'll be out of town in t-twenty-four hours or you'll be in j-jail. P-pick up your b-b-bets, men."

"Hold it!" Madrid said, striding forward now. "This is an honest game, kid. I told you that the other night. Now for--"

"The g-game is crooked!" Willie said. "I can prove it."

Cardona moved toward the card box, but Willie beat him to it and slapped his hand over it. Madrid caught Willie's arm and tried to pull him away, but Willie shook him off. Customers from other parts of the saloon moved in to see the show. Madrid swore violently.

"Get out of here, kid! Clean out of the place," he said.

He stood with his jaw thrust forward, his pink-striped elbow bent as his hand gripped the handle of his pistol. Tesno was suddenly close behind him with one hand on Madrid's shoulder and the other on the wrist of his gun hand.

"Let the kid make his play," Tesno said. His grip tightened as the marshal started to pull away. "Go ahead, Willie."

"The cards in this deck alt-t-ter-n-nate odd and even," Willie announced. He slid the top card out of the box and turned it face up. It was an eight.

"The n-next will be odd." Willie turned a three. "The n-next, even ... the next, odd." He turned a four and a jack. He went on, calling another half dozen cards correctly.

The spectators stared in fascination, muttering ugly, barely audible phrases. Tesno released Madrid. The marshal had no choice now but to watch quietly as if he were as surprised as everyone else.

"This is a frame up!" Cardona asserted. "Somebody planted that deck!"

"You put it in the box your own self," a spectator snarled.

"You can s-see how it works," Willie continued. "If most of the money happens to be on odd cards, the even ones c-come up winners. The dealer can ch-change this any time he wants by d-double-d-dealing."

Willie brought a card out of the box and showed that it was a king. Squeezing it between his thumb and finger, he slid a deuce out from behind it. He dropped the cards on the table.

"Twenty-four hours," he said to Cardona.

"Marshal," Cardona said, appealing to Madrid, "I swear this is a trick. You know I've always run an honest game. You--"

"You do like he says," Madrid said. "Get out of town."

One of the players suddenly dived over the table and crashed into Cardona, falling to the floor with him. Madrid drew his gun and ran around the table. Another player grabbed the cash box, dumped its contents on the table and tried to preside over a fair distribution of the money to Cardona's victims; but it was scramble and grab. The money was gone by the time Pinky Bronklin got there, striking out in all directions with a beer bottle.

Tesno pulled Willie out of the melee as the table collapsed, Pinky Bronklin being among those who went down with it. Madrid had gotten Cardona to one side and was standing in front of him, gun in hand. He fired into the ceiling.

"Break it up!" he kept bellowing. "Break it up!"

Men began to hurry out of the saloon now, some with their hands full of money. Several stopped to slap Willie on the back on the way.

"I'm for firin' the marshal and givin' you the job!" one said.

The last man on his feet was Pinky Bronklin. His nose was bleeding, and he clutched his apron to it. He started for a small stairway at the back of the saloon, then he saw Tesno and came close.

"You set this up," he said, lowering the apron from his blood-smeared face. "I know you. I know you, Tesno."

Tesno threw back his head and laughed. He clapped Pinky on the shoulder and spun him toward the stairway. "I'll make an honest man of you yet, Pinky," he said.

Cardona followed Pinky up the stairs. Madrid holstered his gun and came over. He was grinning, but his black eyes held Tesno's coldly. "I'll take it from here. My job."

Tesno matched the marshal's grin. He touched Willie's arm and they walked out of the saloon. Willie reached for the lemon soda.

"Whew! You th-think he'll f-fire me?"

"No chance of it," Tesno said. "Everybody in town would know the reason. He's got to pretend he thinks you did a good job."

Willie laughed aloud. "I g-guess you're right."

"Right now this is more your town than his. But make one mistake and the same men who slapped your back in there will talk against you. And Madrid will land on you with both feet."

"I don't see why Miss P-Persia p-puts up with him," Willie said. "I got no respect for the man."

"You'd better have. He has to play the politician now, but he belongs to a special race that lives in a different world from other men. You stay in this business, you'll learn to recognize them quick enough. They are not only capable of killing, they not only enjoy it, they _think_ in terms of it."

Willie took a moment to digest that. "I g-guess I see what you mean. He's c-c-cougar-fast with that gun. And his first in-st-stinct is to reach for it."

They had reached the hotel. Tesno clapped Willie on the shoulder and halted in front of the doorway.

"I'm going to be in Ellensburg for a few days, Willie. You walk easy, and stay alive. And stick to the lemon pop."

"I'm s-sick of the s-stuff."

"There's a favor you can do for me," Tesno said. "You know Ben's superintendant, Keef O'Hara? He gets on the booze, and I've been nursemaiding him. I'd like you to take over."

IX

Five nights later, Tesno returned, riding into the town shortly before midnight. He dismounted wearily across the dark street from the Pink Lady and entered the Big Barrel, needing a drink before going on to the camp and getting Ben out of bed.

The saloon was smaller than the Pink Lady and crowded. He found a place at the end of the bar, ordered cigars and whisky, and was immediately joined by Willie, who had been in the street and had seen him arrive. Tesno poured a drink, sniffed it, tasted it.

"You're still wearing the badge," he said.

"I just delivered Mr. O'Hara back to the j-job," Willie said. "He's s-sure kept me busy."

"He left the job?"

"He d-does it every night. Sneaks into town to wet his wh-whistle, he says. The first night you were away, he g-got soaked g-good. I had to t-take him b-back in a wagon. Since then I b-been w-watching for him and c-catching him before he's had more'n a couple of b-belts. I've t-told every barkeep in town not to s-serve him, but most of 'em do when I'm not around."

"Hell of a thing," Tesno said. He bit off the end of a cigar and held a match to it. He wondered if Ben knew about Keef's boozing. "How you getting along with Madrid?" he asked Willie.

"J-just the s-same. He c-closed two more games."

"Madrid did?"

Willie nodded.

"He's smarter than I took him for," Tesno muttered. "He's not going to let you be the big duck in the puddle."

"I th-think Miss Persia t-told him to close those games," Willie said thoughtfully. "Or S-Sam Lester. Madrid d-don't t-take a deep breath unless somebody tells him. Anyhow, he and Pinky had a m-meeting with Miss Persia and Lester the d-day after you left. Stella t-told me."

"Who really calls the tune, Willie? Sam or Persia? What does Stella say about it?"

Willie frowned painfully. "It s-seems like there's s-somebody else. S-somebody who t-tells them all what to d-do."

"Stella said that?"

"She says there's s-somebody mysterious whose name is never mentioned when she's around. They c-call him 'Mr. You-know' or s-something like that. Sam Lester c-contacts him, Stella thinks."

* * * * *

Tesno found Ben sitting behind his desk in his nightshirt, sleepily staring at a paper covered with figures. When he saw Tesno, he snatched off his glasses and tipped back in his chair.

"You sure took your time. Is the news good or bad?"

"Bad." Tesno sank into a chair. "I telegraphed the boiler factory in Connecticut as soon as I got to Ellensburg. Your damned boiler still wasn't shipped yet."

Ben looked as if he had been struck. He got slowly to his feet. "Hadn't been shipped!"

"I was on the telegraph for three days getting it straightened out. It seems they had a wire a couple of weeks ago, signed with your name. It requested that they hold up shipment till they got further word from you."

Ben leaned heavily on the table. For a moment Tesno was afraid he was going to collapse. Then he thumped his fist on the table, began to swear, and they both felt better.

"Somebody deliberately tried to delay you, Ben. Who would it be?"

"How would I know?"

"Jay?"

"I don't know. I've heard he's shifty--but a stunt like that! If I could pin it on him, I could get him blacklisted by every railroad in the West."

"The message was sent from North Yakima, so I rode down there. The operator had the original copy. It was printed in block letters on plain paper. As he remembers, the man who brought it in was dressed like a rancher or a cow hand."

Ben sank into a chair. He wagged his head sadly. "Is that boiler on the way now?"

"It is."

"It'll be at least two weeks before it gets across the country," Ben said. "Then we've got to drag it up here from the end of track."

Tesno extracted a thick fold of paper from his shirt pocket and began to open it up. "Made a map of the supply road with the bad spots marked. There are a dozen places where we'll have to use block and tackle, Ben."

"I suppose we'll do well to make five miles a day," Ben said wearily. "Even with twenty-horse teams.... This is going to be your kettle of stew, Jack, from the time that boiler hits end of track till it's unloaded at the portal."

* * * * *

Tesno walked back to the town through the heavy darkness of the forest road. Reaching the street and turning up the walk toward the hotel, he had a glimpse of the townhouse a hundred yards away. Forgetting that he was dirty and unshaven, he swung instinctively toward the soft invitation of its lighted windows.

Sam Lester answered his knock and grumbled for him to come in. Persia sprang up from the sofa to meet him, taking both his hands. They both sat down. She looked him over possessively.

"Jack, it seems like ages. Was it a rough trip?"

"Lots of riding, not much sleeping."

Sam asserted petulantly that he was going to bed. He slammed the door behind him as he stalked off to the other part of the house.

"I interrupt something?" Tesno asked.

"The usual evening overture," Persia said tiredly. "He thinks he's in love with me. Friendship isn't possible. Why can't we be like--well, you and me, for instance?"

"And how is that?"

They had never sat so close before. He touched her hand. She squeezed his fingers and smiled. Then she withdrew her hand.

"I want to talk, Jack. Everything is going so badly. Income has fallen off and my debts are just overwhelming. It seems that by trying to clean up the gambling games we've given the impression that they are all crooked. Play has fallen off terribly and...." She broke off and smiled suddenly. "I keep forgetting that you're really the one responsible for my troubles. I promise I shan't say another whining word."

"Say all you like."

"Oh, Jack, it's such a ridiculous thing to be a woman!"

He took her hand again and reached across her and embraced her shoulder. Their eyes met and she came against him and her lips were warm and fervent. Far away in the other part of the building, a door slammed and they were alone in the night and in the world.

X

Willie Silverknife sat in Tesno's room with eight slips of paper fanned out in his hands. Tesno lounged on the bed with his hands behind his head. Willie was doing the talking.

"This d-dealer don't fool around with anything so easy as that odd-even arrangement. He can bring up any one he wants by shuffling the way you showed me. I watched him for d-days and wrote down the cards as they come up. I d-did it with a stub of pencil inside my c-coat p-pocket. I g-got all eight arrangements here."

"And you figure to bust him."

"I'll p-prove the g-game is crooked by dealing out the deck and calling every card--exact, not just odd or even. I figure to d-do it when the place is crowded."

Willie tapped the papers into an even packet and buttoned them into a shirt pocket. Tesno regarded the ceiling in silence.

"I wanted to ch-check with you," Willie said. "I want to be s-sure there's nothing wrong with the way I got this s-studied out."

"It's a fine piece of studying. But hold off, Willie."

"Wh-why? If I show up another c-crooked g-game in the Pink Lady, it ought to just about f-finish the p-place."

"Hold off," Tesno said irritably. "The town is running pretty tame--compared to what it was."

"T-tame? You sh-should s-see what I s-see. Last night--"

"All right! But don't put on a show this time." Tesno swung his feet off the bed and sat up. "Go to Pinky quietly and tell him to get shed of that dealer. He probably doesn't know he's got a card mechanic there."

"You know b-better than that!" Willie stood up and gripped the back of his chair. "That Pinky never does anything honest if he can do it crooked. That place is rotten as hell's swill b-bucket, and I should th-think you'd be glad to s-see it go b-bust!"

Tesno got slowly to his feet and stretched. "I have no love for Pinky. But he owns only a small chunk of that place."

Tesno threw an arm around Willie's shoulders and led him to the door. "For the time being, Willie, keep your eyes open and don't stir up trouble."

Willie turned in the doorway with hurt written on his face.

"I'll be d-damned if you don't sound exactly like M-Madrid!"

Tesno laughed and closed the door. Turning to the washstand, he soberly regarded himself in the small square mirror above it.

* * * * *

Nobody ever knew exactly what happened that night or exactly who was to blame. But it seemed clear that dynamiter Heinie Hinkleman got his fuses fouled up and also that the foreman of the shoring crew was lax about getting his men to safety. The heading crew got clear in plenty of time and warned the bench gang on the way out; but when Heinie came jogging along in his leisurely flat-footed way, half a dozen workers were still putting up shoring. Heinie told them for cripes sake the fuses were lit, and he herded them ahead of him toward the portal.

The fuses were cut for six minutes, he said, which would have been more than enough time to get the hell out of there. But Heinie had miscalculated for the first and last time in his career, and the blast caught them before they had gone a dozen yards. Rock hurtled out of the heading like shot from a gigantic gun barrel. An egg-sized splinter caught Heinie in the back of the skull and buried itself in his brain. Two of the others were dead when the dust cleared enough for rescuers to get to them. The other four were carried out stunned and just a whisper away from suffocation.

Dawn was flaring over the hills to the east when Ben Vickers reached the scene, wild-eyed and half dressed. Keef O'Hara, who said he had been over the mountain at the other portal, arrived a few minutes later. Together, they questioned the heading crew, who were scared and mad and eager to blame somebody. Heinie, one of them volunteered, had lost two months' pay at faro that afternoon, which might account for his mind not being on his work, even if he hadn't taken a few nips to console himself.

This, along with the fact that O'Hara's breath would back off a polecat, was enough for Ben. When he had seen the injured men to the camp hospital and got the doctor's report, he summoned Tesno to his cabin and read the riot act.

Except for some rump-blistering profanity, which got monotonous, Ben spoke in a flat, controlled manner--which was a bad sign. Tesno sat with his chair tipped back and listened.

Briefly, Ben said that he had jumping-well expected Tesno to establish authority in Tunneltown and kick it into line, and Tesno had jumping-well expected to do that, too, judging by the way he had started out. But he had changed his mind and had left the clean-up to the town itself, which was nothing but a jumping booze camp, and what booze camp ever cleaned itself up? Nevertheless, Ben had kept hoping for the best until this morning. With three men dead and another probably dying, his patience had run out, and there jumping-well was going to be a change....

"Now hold on," Tesno said, when Ben showed signs of running out of wind. "You said you'd settle for regulation, and you're getting it. It's come slowly, but--"

"Don't recite your list of half-butt improvements to me," Ben said. "I know it by heart--right down to that stuttering clown of a half-breed deputy, who has done his job a jumping lot better than you have, at that!" Ben poked the tabletop with a forefinger. "And as for what I said I'd settle for, I told you clearly that the gambling had to go--all of it."

"Damn it, Ben, you blame the town too much. If that dynamiter hadn't lost his stake at faro, he probably would have dropped it to some bunkhouse sharp at poker."

"I'm not going to argue about it," Ben said icily. "I want the gambling stopped. Altogether."

"That will close at least a couple of the saloons."

"That would break my heart," Ben said. "Now do I get it or not?"

Tesno stood up and sauntered toward the door. Anger, guilt, a sense of injustice, rose in him and laid harsh words on his tongue, but he did not speak them. He needed time to calm down, to think things out.

"You'll get it," he said through clenched teeth, "or you'll get my resignation."

He put his back to Ben and trudged out of the cabin and through the camp toward the town road. Dave Coons stepped out of one of the bunkhouses and fell in beside him.

"Johnny Favery just died," Coons said.

Tesno closed his eyes briefly. "That's four," he said.

"He was just a kid," Coons said. "Just here a few months from the old country. He had nineteen cents in his pocket."

"Hell of a thing," Tesno said.

"Can you tell me where the blame lies?" Coons said. "The men have a right to know. So it won't happen again."

"Ask Ben."

"Thought I might get a straight story from you. O'Hara wasn't at the west portal as he claimed, I know that. He was at the cookhouse trying to sober up on coffee."

"No reason why he should be on hand for every blast," Tesno grumbled.

"Vickers is, during the day shifts. If O'Hara had been there, he probably would have seen that Hinkleman had the fuses wrong. Even if he hadn't, he'd have got that shoring gang out of there earlier."

"All right," Tesno said. "Blame O'Hara."

"I do blame the town. If it weren't so handy and so wild, O'Hara wouldn't have been drunk and Hinkleman broke and upset."

Tesno made no reply. They had walked a little way along the forested road, chilly and damply fragrant at this hour. "When are you going to do something about the town, Jack?" Coons said, and abruptly turned and headed back toward the camp.